#boris you’re next

[glowstone23b]

I never got to know him all that well, but I hear he was a cool guy! Wanted to test out a Techno design for myself (albeit roughly, on my lunch break). Anyways. Subscribe to him this is propaganda 🙌

Alt designs under the cut!

Shoutout to him for inspiring my whole piglin naming system, which was subsequently overturned by the release of minecraft legends. Alas. I will hold onto my headcanons with an iron grip regardless

[heechwe]

higher than heaven | 𝐜𝐬𝐛

୨୧ pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 10.3k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst, smut ୨୧ tags: guardian angel!soobin, human!reader, mutual pining, sexual tension, dirty talking, nipple play, chest worship, fingering, unprotected sex ୨୧ synopsis: Soobin, your devoted guardian angel, has one singular purpose in his ethereal existence: to bring your heart's deepest desires to life. Unbeknownst to him, his mere presence fulfills that desire. Yet, the lingering question remains— how can he effectively transform your most intimate dreams into reality? ♬ playlist: iris | nightly, dizzy | yueku, unbreakable | jamie scott, monsters | joan, feel every bit | the ivy, infinitely falling | fly by midnight, kiss my scars | august royals, next to me | peter fenn, hideaway | jacob collier, salvation | gabrielle aplin, magic island | tomorrow x together ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: First fic of 2025! I’d like to thank @lovetaroandtaemin, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, and @xomakara for beta-reading this fic for me, I know it was a quick journey and I appreciate every one of you who followed the story from the beginning to the end 🤍.

The time fills as plastic shot glasses and empty solo cups discarded into trash bags. Some stragglers of the party lay on the couch or floor, but you pass by them with ease. You sigh before Beomgyu stops you with a sharp tug. "Dude, you don't have to help me. You're supposed to be one of my guests!"

"I'm just avoiding the inevitable tomorrow. And if you come into the shelter late because you procrastinated cleaning your own apartment, I may just kill you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, boss.” He rolls his eyes and unfurls the empty bag you had between your hands moments before. You giggle in earnest.

“If I get a single text, Gyu–”

“Why don’t you enjoy the early morning hours of New Year's and get out of here?" He shoves you towards the door of his apartment with an "I love you” to follow you out, determined to do what you swear he won't without your help.

Beomgyu may be your childhood friend, but habits hold on tight with him. It’s clear from the three years he’s worked at your animal shelter. Your parents always said he has good intentions, although he’s brash in decision-making. "The kid just asks for forgiveness more than permission most of the time," your dad would joke, and Beomgyu wouldn’t disagree.

Your parents’ words replay in your head on the walk home. You hear every piece of parental advice with each step on the cobblestones, the clack or your heels accompanying every word. It's customary on New Years to feel the ache of their absence so strongly. Your thoughts of them are as vivid as the pain of their loss. It seems to haunt you more with every year that passes.

One day, you had been tagging new intakes and cleaning food bowls like normal. The next you were receiving the call that your parents had been in a fatal car accident. Every space they inhabited, including the shelter, felt colder, quieter, a little less like home. Even your own house twenty minutes from your job barely felt like your own.

Five years of grief made the pain manageable, but on nights like tonight, it doesn’t feel like you’ve made much progress..

The cold of January accompanies the repetitive emotional and mental cycle you're on. The weather bites with a hard set of teeth, almost more brutal than the traces of sadness you feel in your heart.

You don’t realize amid the somber trek home how close the surrounding shadows are, one of a stranger within an arm’s distance.

Your animals greet you at your door with perky barks and whooshing tails. Mina and Minho, your two tabby cats, seem to be delighted that you’re back, but save the ecstatic greetings for their canine siblings. Key, your senior chihuahua, does what he can energy-wise compared to Bori, your labrador mix.

“Bobo, please,” you beg as she jumps up on you when you kneel at her eye-level. It’s all a mess of slobbering tongue and eager pants with her. Once she’s done, you rub Key between the ears to give him some affection.

Even your hedgehog, Rio, taps against the glass of his enclosure to say hello to you. It’s almost like every pair of animal eyes asks you how the party went and why you left them alone for so long.

You can’t supply them with an answer, because you notice the person-shaped figure at your kitchen counter, silent and clouded in darkness. The sight makes you release a decibel-breaking scream.

You grab an umbrella from the iron wrack near your door and charge to the kitchen, expecting Key and Bori to follow you and bark aggressively at the intruder. They don’t, but they do pad behind you in curiosity at your strange actions.

They barely react at all when you turn on the light in the small kitchen. The new illumination reveals the black-haired stranger dressed in white. He says nothing, but holds a smile of mirth on his face at your line of defense. He's neither scrawny nor muscular, but towers over you to a surreal degree. 

You think you can take him if you have the element of surprise, but with the alcohol still buzzing through your veins, you may lack complete hand-eye coordination. It’s anyone’s guess.

“What do you want? If you’re looking for money, you got the wrong house, buddy.” You say with a steady voice, aiming the sharpest point of the umbrella in his direction.

He smiles wide, pearly teeth and a set of dimples almost blinding you. “I’m Soobin.”

His lack of an answer and warm smile throw you off. It’s definitely not the reaction anyone expects from a burglar. Maybe the guy's intoxication is even greater than yours, enabling him to enter someone's home without permission. No matter the reasons, you don’t release your hold on the umbrella. You stare him down hard despite your shaking hands.

“Well…Soobin…I don’t know what you want, but you’re not gonna find it here.”

“I’m in the exact place I need to be.” He says your name with the same level of warmth that remains in his smile, but your blood runs cold at the fact he is aware of who you are. Was he stalking you? Had he stopped by the animal shelter while you were too busy to make a mental note of him? “Put down the umbrella and we–”

“Get the fuck out of my house, you creep!” You raise the umbrella as high as you can before it falls on his head, shoulders, or any location on his body that will stun him. He knows it’s coming, though.

Soobin somehow materializes right in front of you before you can step forward, taking your wrists gently in one hand to stop you. “There’s no need for that. I’m not here to harm you.”

You struggle in his hold, trying your hardest to release yourself from his grip with all of your might. Then, you freeze, unsure of how both his speed and his lack of alarm to your furry animals makes any logical sense.

Soobin senses your lack of effort to go through with your attack and lets go of you, taking a small breath of air. “Will you drop the umbrella?”

“Once you tell me what you are,” you whisper. “My dogs would have ripped off your ankles by now, but they didn’t. Why?”

Soobin chuckles, but you feel anything but humorous. “The why to that question is a bit hard to explain. But I can tell you why I’m here.” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly bashful. “Let’s just say I have a mission to complete.”

Soobin sits at one end of the couch, hands in his lap, while you sit on the other. Your dogs lay at the edge of the couch, snoring peacefully now that the chaos is over. Your knees sit tight against your chest, still guarding yourself from him or any potential advances he may make.

You may not think he wants to kill or rob you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re immediately trusting of the stranger. One that is no doubt breathtaking, but still hiding his intentions.

You size him up, still unsure how or why the guy is familiar with you when you’ve never seen him before. He can barely provide you with an adequate answer for the questions that pop into your head.

Where are you from? How do you know me? Have we ever met before?

He chuckles at each one, continuing on with the same reflexive response. “Proprietary information.”

You roll your eyes. “Every time you say that, you sound like some kind of spy.” You move closer to his spot on the couch, looking at him with more intensity than before. 

The analysis makes him laugh even more, his cheeks turning pink. “I’m not an alien, if that was your second guess.”

“That’s not what I was thinking!”

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “You look like you’re about to cut me open with a scalpel.”

Your lips transform into a firm line. “Should I want to, Soobin? Maybe you’re saying you’re not an alien to throw me off.”

“Trust me, I am not an extraterrestrial. Not cool enough.”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation you find yourself in, matching the smile on Soobin’s face with your own. An hour ago, you were about to kill him in self-defense for what you assumed was a classic break-in scenario. Now, you’re laughing with your would-be victim. This has to be the most peculiar first day of the year you’ve ever had.

He claps his hands softly on his white denim jeans. “We should call it a night. You’re probably tired. I can explain more tomorrow, if you’d like.”

You look around your house, unsure where Soobin is planning to stay for the next few hours. The one-bed-and-bath cottage is anything but roomy, most of your space taken up by work supplies or your animals’ stuff.

He senses your trepidation and grins. “Don’t worry, I can come back in the morning.”

You suck in a breath. Most of you feels relief, but there’s a small inkling of sadness that pervades your emotions. You barely know Soobin, but his presence provides a warmth that your home has been missing.

It has to be the last traces of alcohol and the simmering grief still in your system.

“Okay. I have work in the morning, but–”

“I’ll be here before you have to leave,” Soobin cuts you off. He holds his hand out in a goodbye, and you take it. His soft palm meets yours and heats your skin, and you have to cut the parting short to not feel any more flustered.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, love.” He leaves you with one more grin before he exits, confusing you further. 

The touch of his fingertips on you follows you into sleep, his skin the last coherent sensation you have before it all goes black.

There is a murky quality to the dream you find yourself in. You’re surrounded by grey, the color’s opacity fading only partly as the details become clearer.

The room around you looks more like a cavern than a traditional room. It’s made of stone, cavelike and primitive. The entrance to the area is too vast for a normal door. It’s almost as if you could step out and fall into nothing but clouds. The world outside is a mixture of inky blacks and dark blues, signifying nighttime outside the four rocky walls.

You look back to the inside of the space. It holds a desk covered with paperwork and photographs. You’re alone, standing in the center of it all, but too far away from the papers on the table to see any information.

Before you can step closer, Soobin enters with a blonde man hot on his heels. They both walk right through you, seemingly not noticing your presence at all as they continue their discussion. 

They emit their own light somehow, the room nowhere near as dark as when you were alone inside of it.

“If you fail at this, Yeonjun will demote you and have no qualms about doing it.” The blonde man ruffles his hair in frustration, and inches closer to Soobin. They clearly have a close relationship, from the concern on the stranger’s face to the hand that he rests on Soobin's shoulder. “You’ve worked too hard to lose everything, Soobin.”

“I know, Hyuka,” Soobin says in a somber tone, sorting through the papers on his desk. “But she needs me now more than ever. And I know I can help. And if I succeed, I can actually—“

“I get it. We’re just not supposed to get involved unless we’re certain about it. You know this.”

Soobin sighs. “You didn’t see her, Kai. I have to.”

The man named Kai exhales a deep breath and walks away, his pleas seeming to hit a brick wall. The last thing he says, “I hope you know what you’re risking,” barely makes it to your ears. All you notice before Kai’s departure is the unfurling of wings from his back, the white and gray feathers spouting from the tendons just below his shoulders.

You scream when he drops from the entrance, his wings carrying him away. You don’t care if the sound alerts either of the two men, not after witnessing such an unrealistic moment.

You scream again when you hear the unfurling of Soobin’s wings, the sound almost whipping you onto your back from the gust his wings emit. They’re dark grey, larger than Kai’s are. They create such long-casting shadows that you have no question now what Soobin is or where he comes from.

The word replays in your mind as the surrounding scene dematerializes and you wake up with a rapid heartbeat: an angel.

Soobin waits at your door in the same white button-up and jeans he had on the night prior. You welcome him inside, and he looks more ethereal somehow in daylight. 

The dream hits you again with its full force, the image of his grey wings flashing across your memory.

“So, you’re an angel,” You say, filling the space between you both with a new tension. The anxiety only permeates from you; Soobin exudes an air of calm instead, despite your accusation.

He almost ticks his head down in a nod as he responds with the words, “Proprietary information.”

You nod your head and gulp hard. Somehow, the aura around you and the subtext in his expression tells you what you know to be true.

He showed you all you needed to know last night through your dreams, a miraculous loophole to the restrictions placed upon him.

When you’re finally ready to go to work, the morning chores around the house finished before Soobin even made it to your doorstep, you look over at the man in front of you again with trepidation. The white attire may lead to a multitude of questions that you and Soobin cannot answer.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Soobin asks, confused.

You laugh and shake your head, any residual tension from your realization broken. “You look a bit too…uniform for the shelter.”

“Oh! Well…” He blushes, unsure how to respond.

An idea pops into your head when his words come up short. “I may have some old stuff that’ll fit you.”

“Why is the rando wearing your dad’s windbreaker?” Beomgyu asks while cleaning Jin, the newest adoptee at the shelter. His eyes peer over at Soobin filling some food bowls with kibble. Soobin’s presence fills the space the same way it did in your house.

He wears your dad’s long-sleeve shirt, windbreaker, and khaki pants well. Despite his freakishly tall height, the clothes don’t look small on him, and you’re relieved he’s able to fit in like any normal guy with the change in wardrobe.

You scoff, continuing to fill out the documents for Jin’s tag and vaccinations without looking up at your friend. “Soobin’s new in town and lost everything on the plane ride here. He just needed to borrow some stuff until his luggage gets delivered.”

Beomgyu nods, still concerned. He goes back to scrubbing Jin’s coat with the anti-tick shampoo, and you leave his spot at the cleaning station to stand beside Soobin.

“You do this every day? These bags are heavy, even for me.” Soobin grunts and clips the bag closed.

“I usually make Gyu or another volunteer do it. But you saved me the trouble of asking.” You smirk and take two of the bowls in your hands. “Want to help me feed the dogs?”

Soobin’s eyes light up, and he nods. You wonder as you walk to the cages if he’s ever interacted with animals before he left his home in the skies.

Since you were a kid, the shelter has always been a part of your daily regimen. Once college was out of the way, you had a stable job waiting for you to practice your veterinary degree on. While some could only handle so many cat scratches, dog poops, and absurd origin stories, it made every day worth it in your eyes. And the fact that you had a history with tending to furry friends with your parents only made it more worthwhile to continue doing.

The second you open the cages to let the dogs eat, you recognize how natural Soobin is at the job. He talks to them in a childlike voice and rubs their bellies as they munch on kibble and necessary medicines you give in between feeding. Even the dogs with the rougher backgrounds take to Soobin like a bee to honey, the warmth he naturally exudes relaxing them.

He truly is an angel, you realize, and not just in the literal sense.

You lock up the shelter for the day with a lot less weight on your shoulders thanks to Soobin. “I might as well give you the keys to this place. It suits you well,” you joke.

Soobin tucks his hands into his windbreaker, smiling hard. “It just came easy, I guess. Animals aren’t like people. They don’t have to hide behind words. It’s all about energy.”

You look at him as you walk away from the building together, your face softened from his words. “My mom always used to say stuff like that. To her, animals were the bestest friends you could ever ask for. She’d say it’s like they see into your soul.”

Soobin grins. “She seems lovely.”

You swallow hard, balling your hands into fists inside your jacket. It’s not anger that permeates your body now, not the way it used to. All that exists is the reality that their words are simply memories. “She was. My dad too. That place was their second home.” You wave your arm in the direction of the shelter. The building diminishes from view as you round the corner to head home. “And mine, too.”

“Did you envision this being your life?” Soobin asks, the question taking you by surprise. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay!” You laugh. “I mean—I love working with the animals every day, and I have great friends. It just can be very routine sometimes, like there’s this gap that I can’t fill.” You hold back the more intimate details of your desires to Soobin, still guarded and uncertain of being so vulnerable so soon.

He steps closer, the walk becoming more intimate with his shoulder almost brushing yours. “You’ve been alone for quite a while. It’s understandable to want to share your life with someone.”

You blush hard, a mixture of the January cold and his correct assumptions building a steady heat on your cheeks. “That’s what most people want, I guess.”

Eyes widening, you realize now why Soobin may be discussing these things with you. Could his super secret mission, which he discussed the night you met, relate to right now?

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, stopping on the stone street. Soobin only gets a few paces farther than you before he stops.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks, his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth in a small O that you would normally giggle at.

Now, you have no time for humor.

“Did you come here because of the stupid wish I made on New Year’s Eve?”

“Taehyun, if you give me another shot, I will throw up!” You exclaim in a fit of giggles, three drinks already in your system over the last hour and a half. His girlfriend, Kazuha, stands by your side as she downs the shot in her hand, her mouth puckering as she swallows it down. “Zu, I thought you were the DD tonight!”

“Fuck it, I’ll call an Uber.” She winks and chases the shot with a sip of beer. Beomgyu wades through the throng of people in his living room to join all of you in the kitchen.

“Taking shots without me? That’s a party foul.”

“Whatever, man. It’s not like we can’t make more.” Taehyun passes him one filled with tequila to catch up, and Beomgyu downs it in the next second. By the time the buzz of the drinks hits your head, Jungwon barrels into the kitchen with his own girlfriend Yeri to tell you all that the ball is dropping.

Everyone crowds around the television to watch the remaining minute of the year play out. The strangers around you scream out the last seconds, others speak in a drunken lilt.

You turn to your friends, somehow the only person without someone attached to their hip. Beomgyu is holding a random girl's shoulder, while your other friends stand closely together in their respective couples, watching the countdown..

“Four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!” Beomgyu says the words into his date’s neck before kissing her roughly on the lips. Your other friends have their own celebratory make-out sessions. You feel like an intruder as they all enjoy the moment in their respective couples.

You’ve never been a grouch about your single status, not once. But it felt like a part of you was missing out with little of a choice in the matter. Whether by the confines of chance or love simply not being meant for you for the past twenty-seven years, you can only be comfortable for so long before the pain of solitude drains you dry.

Was it so awful to want to find someone to share funny videos with? To talk to about days at the shelter when a cute animal comes in and needs a loving home? When days are heavy on your heart and you need the one you love the most to lift you up and make it all evaporate with a simple “I love you”? To make every struggle and hardship, no matter how big or small, worth it?

And so, with only a drunken mind and heart to listen to your deepest whims, you wish for what seems the most out of reach as your eyes line with tears: a soulmate to bridge the gap between your loneliness and true fulfillment.

When the reality of why Soobin’s here hits you, you can’t help but release one of the loudest laughs you’ve ever emitted before.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” you say with exasperated breaths, all the air in your lungs saved mostly for your laughter. “You came all the way from up there to play matchmaker?”

Soobin chuckles to himself, the sounds that leave his lips a lot quieter than yours. “You make it sound so childish.”

“Can you blame me?” You ask. “I don’t need help in that department!”

Soobin gives you a knowing look, hitting you somewhere deep in the chest. “Then I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“Okay, don’t speak in riddles to me!”

“I’m just stating facts, love.”

You roll your eyes, and Soobin laughs again. “So you’re magically going to find me the perfect partner after only knowing me for 48 hours?”

“I’ve known you for much longer than that.” He steps even closer to you, your fingers brushing his as he stands a few inches from you. “But again, it’s—“

“Proprietary information, I get it,” you whisper. You cough into your fist and glide past him, the moment broken. “Either way, I am just fine with or without a boyfriend, Soobin.”

He follows behind without a word, but you sense his smile without looking at him. Jerk.

Soobin has helped many people in his immortal life. It’s an existence he couldn’t fill in just one book. He’d have to go back centuries to the very moment he started his work as a guardian. His life began long before that, but his true merits came when he started helping those who needed supernatural guidance.

He’s seen from his eagle’s eye view many heartbreaks, losses, successes, and love stories, but nothing as encapsulating as the story of your life.

You were a vision to see the first time you held an animal in your hands, hands tepid but heart full from the creature giving all of its affection to you for you to reciprocate wholeheartedly. He was in awe of you when you stepped across the stage with your degree, eager to put all the knowledge you gained about medicine to a good use. And his ever-still heart ached with yours the second you got that phone call in November five years ago, wanting nothing more than to catch you before your knees hit the tile below.

You’re the one assignment he’s kept too close an eye on, the others in his caseload not holding his focus so strongly. He succumbed to forbidden desires, wishes he knew were unattainable.

But the second he felt your heart break on the one night he knew he could seize the chance to step over the border between Heaven and Earth, he chose the only option that felt right: he had to leave home and heal what needed to be mended inside of you a long time ago.

He watches you help the teenage girl adopting her first pet with immense adoration. 

You check off the supplies needed for Jin and all the vaccines the dog will need moving forward with clinical focus. It’s admirable how dedicated you are to your work, not caring if it went beyond the bounds of a traditional work-life balance.

And when you wave the teenager and her parents out the door and turn to him with a signature eye-roll, he can’t stop the way his skin heats. Your gaze in his direction screams: How long are you going to keep pestering me?

Forever, he says to himself with a hell of a lot of hope.

When you’re both alone in the shelter, one hour after you’re closed for the day, you sweep the floors in a huff. “I am telling you I do not need you to play matchmaker for me.”

“You keep saying that and yet I’m still here, love,” Soobin tuts, flipping through the magazine on top of your desk. He sits at the chair opposite from the receptionist counter so casually, feet crossed and casual despite his heart yearning to explain everything to you.

I’m here because I can’t take any more of your pain. Because someone deserves to know how special you are. Because I—

“I can find a date without your help. Beomgyu already took up that role a long time ago. He’s been pestering me about going out with his friend Heeseung for months. So there.” You stick your tongue out at him and continue sweeping.

Soobin chuckles to himself and flips to another page of the magazine, but he can’t deny how his focus remains on you, the center of his attention, for longer than he expected.

“Lee Heeseung, twenty-two. Works at the ramen shop downtown. Entirely incompatible with you. Just for your information.”

You stop sweeping and aim an accusatory eye at him. “And that’s not proprietary information how?”

“I’m not looking out for him. And that only took a couple of Google searches to figure out, love.”

By the time you lock up the store, Soobin is in the habit of checking the door behind you to make sure you didn’t miss the back door or forget to close the play-gate on the way out. Two weeks of observing your routine up close has given him incredible intel, and not just into your schedule.

“Let’s walk past downtown,” Soobin suggests, taking your hand and walking through a new pattern of alleyways and cobblestone paths. 

You’re unsure why this route that adds another ten minutes to your walk is worth the trouble, but you take his advice, anyway. He’s your angel for a reason, after all.

“Soobin, unless you suddenly got a hankering for human food, we really should—“

You knock into someone’s shoulders hard; the impact sends you to the gravel. Soobin vanishes from view, his name on your tongue the second you recognize that you’re on the ground.

A pair of hands that aren’t Soobin’s, more calloused and robust, lift you up off the ground.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the alleyway.”

A beautiful pair of brown eyes gaze at yours, and it stops you dead in your tracks. The stranger’s brown hair falls over his face in a mess of free curls, some of them tinged with sweat. He wears a baking apron around his waist; flour and, you presume, icing cover his shirt.

You look at the building next to you, the pastel pink sign reading “Gyu’s Baked Goods” beaming over your head. And you turn back to the man in question, the baker himself as his hands keep you sturdy on your scraped feet.

“It’s totally fine. I’m the one who should be sorry. I mean, I wasn’t looking anyway and I—“

“No, you don’t have to apologize. This is what I get for taking a smoke break when I have cupcakes to make, right?” The baker chuckles and releases you. Your heart thumps at a rapid tempo when he holds his hand out to you. “I’m Mingyu. Sorry I’m built like a mountain.”

You chuckle and take his hand, the handshake gentle for the size of his palm. It reminds you of a sturdy fireplace, strong but tender. “Pleased to meet you. Apologies for having the build of a leaf.”

Soobin looks on with a knot in his stomach from an opposite alleyway. The process has begun, and he cannot halt its progress. No matter if he wants to be the one in the human male’s place.

Soobin watches on as Mingyu stands with you by the kennels, acid simmering on his tongue from watching the two of you in such a chummy position.

He clutches the novel in his hands with intense pressure, on the edge of ripping pages between his fingers. For the past week and a half, you and Mingyu have spent time together as new acquaintances, giving Sobbing time to read mortal literature.

He should be happy for you; his initial plan to find someone who fits your life and wishes so well is going perfectly. Yet why does he wish he could rewind time and take it back?

To your pleasure and Soobin’s secret dismay, Mingyu’s surprise gift of homemade mini animal treats made the day an amazing experience for all three of you.

You pay no mind to Soobin’s sudden and off-putting sulking as you show Mingyu around the animal shelter, your new friend interested in your job as much as you’re intrigued by him.

Beomgyu saunters up to Soobin with a bag of kibble in his hands, clicking his tongue. “It’s tough, isn’t it, man?”

Soobin huffs and looks at the younger man, the aura around your friend similar to his back home. If only Kai could see him now, grumbling and pouting like a kicked puppy. 

“What is?”

“Seeing the girl you like with someone else. I mean, she’s pretty great so I get it.”

Soobin rolls his eyes and goes back to the novel in his hands to distract himself. His jaw ticks when he hears your laughter. The sound creates such a beautiful symphony to his ears, but it’s not reserved for him at the moment, and it makes his stomach turn. “You’re wrong.”

“Okay, dude. I get it. None of my business.” Beomgyu lifts the bag over his shoulder and starts walking, but looks back at Soobin with a smirk. “But maybe it might be mutual if you gave it a shot.”

Soobin scoffs at the kid, and then at himself for the split second he entertains the idiot’s idea. Soobin can pine all he wants, but he knows the boundaries. A multitude of reasons prevent this line from ever being crossed.

He may have incredibly powerful feelings for you, but they’re hidden away and unable to reach the light of day. Not just because he has a strategy for you and Mingyu, but he is not an acceptable suitor because he doesn’t belong here, simply put. Earth is only a temporary stay on his list. And when he goes back and reports to Yeonjun of his success, who knows what will happen?

All he knows is that your paths will cross only once in his and your lifetime, and never again.

Soobin almost remains stuck in his misery until you walk up to him with an orange icing-colored dog bone treat in your hands. You hold it out to him with a shy smile. “For you.”

He smirks, taking the snack from you and rotating it between his fingers. “Isn’t this for the dogs, love?”

And the signature eye roll comes, your bottom lip between your teeth as you do it. “They’re organic. Anyone can eat them.” You look back at him directly, suddenly concerned. “You can eat, right?”

He chuckles. Nodding his head, he looks back at the snack. “Just not sure if I’ll like it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Just try it, please?”

Reluctantly, he bites down. Sweet potatoes and carrots, harmoniously blended, flood his mouth. The icing and pinch of cinnamon provides the perfect level of sweetness to round it all out, and Soobin groans. Even the dog treats the guy makes are perfect.

“Okay, it’s pretty great,” Soobin admits, taking another bite. “Even if they’re meant for dogs.”

You laugh and take a tiny corner for yourself. “At least you can say you’ve eaten a dog bone.”

Soobin’s tender smile makes you blush, and it stirs up all the feelings you’ve suppressed when you’re not in his presence. Mingyu’s a welcome distraction from it all. His looks and personality are undeniably attractive, but you always circle back to the angel in your midst.

Who can blame you? He’s ethereal, his magnetism undeniable. But that warmth he’s had from the first day you met is why you can only stay away for so long. He’s a part of your world now, and you can’t imagine that changing in the foreseeable future.

He’s made his place on Earth with you, and you dread the day he has to go back to where he belongs.

The end of January brings the last time for branches to stay vacant of leaves. You notice the small sprouts of leaves amidst the brown limbs as you and Soobin walk back to your house. You bite back a smile, and Soobin comments on it.

It’s like he clenches your heart between his fingers as he says it. “You always hide your excitement like nobody should be watching. Like it’s wrong to be happy about the little things.”

You blush while strolling beside him. “It’s not that I’m hiding it. Maybe I just don’t think anyone will get why I’m happy about certain things.”

Soobin bumps you with his shoulder, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. “Try me.”

You exhale a breath to get your bearings. “Okay, so everyone is always excited about the start of the new year. But then it’s like the excitement dies down and we just go on our merry way until the next holiday comes up. It’s not in the days for me. It’s the environment that always makes me feel the shift, you know?

“Like with animals, almost. The energy is unique, and I feel it when I see the colors and feel the temperature fluctuate.” You shake your head and tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “That may sound stupid, but—“

Soobin stops you on the open sidewalk, taking your hand in his. He looks into your eyes earnestly, wanting you to take his words to heart before he says them. “Nothing you’ve ever said to me is stupid, love. Every thought you have is beautiful because it’s yours.”

Like the town greenery, something shifts inside of you then. Even on the rest of the walk home and the talk over dinner about the day at the shelter, you sense an unfamiliar emotion swirling in the air between you and Soobin. You can’t name it, but it reminds you of the first blooms of spring, brimming with promise.

The first week of February comes in a tidal wave. Many people flood the animal shelter looking for the perfect furry friend to complete their family on the cusp of Valentine’s Day.

All you can hope for is that a majority of them, or at least fifty percent, don’t come back to the shelter after the holiday is over to return the animals looking for forever homes. 

That was the one thing that bugged you the most about this job: biting your tongue at the obvious lack of responsibility people put into owning pets.

It holds more weight than anyone knows, bringing another being in your home to tend to like a child. The only difference is that many of them have histories that deserve more care than normal, and some don’t want to put in the right amount of effort.

You sit on these thoughts as Soobin holds the newest cat to the shelter in his hands. “Have you thought of a name for Mr. Cat yet?” Soobin inspects the spot near the cat’s tail. “Or Missus?”

You giggle and grab the clipboard with the cat’s information on it. “He’s a he, Soob. You can come up with a name.”

He ponders the choices, before his smile grows and he presses his nose to the cat’s. “How about Hyuka?” He rubs the back of the cat’s ears tenderly.

You grin at Soobin and brush your fingers over Hyuka’s fur. “I think it’s a perfect fit.”

Soobin looks over at you with bright eyes, his expression transforming into one that feels like the one you held that day so long ago when he called your thoughts beautiful. A question forms on his tongue, but it flits away the second Mingyu walks through the double doors of the animal shelter with a bouquet of daisies.

At least the jerk knows your favorite flowers, Soobin thinks to himself as he walks with Hyuka back to his block in the back room.

You smile at Mingyu and thank him for the flowers, immediately pressing your nose to them to inhale their smell. “They’re amazing, thank you.”

“My buddy Wonwoo is a florist, so don’t thank me too much. I got a discount even though I should’ve paid full price.”

“Can’t beat a couple bucks off.” You set the bundle down on your desk and cross your arms over the countertop. “I take it you’re not just here to deliver flowers?”

Mingyu chuckles and presses a hand to his neck, his toned biceps stretching out his shirt. “Actually, I was going to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s.”

You stumble on your explanation, discussing the closure of the shelter for the holiday. “Well,” Mingyu starts, “I was thinking you could come by for dinner. And I promise it won’t just be me making you taste test cupcakes again.”

You laugh, but the sound falls flat. You had always been the one pining, yearning for the boy you liked to like you back. Being on the other side of the coin was not exactly ideal. “Mingyu, you know I appreciate you and I am flattered, but…”

Soobin.

You’re unsure how to continue, but Mingyu holds a hand up in understanding. “I get it. How about I make you a meal, anyway? Consider it a friend treating a friend for all of her hard work.”

You blush and nod. “I’d like that very much.”

You’re washing dried-up wet food from the cat bowls when Soobin walks up to you, his face red. By the time Mingyu left, you expected Soobin to come back to your side so you could wash the dishes together. You did it yourself, seeing as he took forever to come back. Soobin asks with a tone of authority, “What the hell are you thinking?”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, contemplating. “I’m thinking Hyuka’s chances of getting adopted before Valentine’s is about—“

“You know that wasn’t what I meant, love.” He says the pet name with annoyance as he drops one bowl into the sink next to you. His tone catches you off guard, not expecting to see Soobin angry for the first time like this.

“You asked me what I was thinking, and I’m telling you.”

“Why did you say no to the date?” Soobin asks, his eyes blazing with fury. Something without a name sits below though, you can tell.

“I, technically, didn’t say no. It’s just more friendly than romantic.”

“Do you expect me to find you another soulmate like this?” Soobin drops another dirty plate in the sink for you to clean up. You don’t know if the question is exactly for you or for himself.

The tension sits thickly in the air, the running tap the only sound for a good minute or two. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you respond, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

Your cheekiness makes Soobin chuckle deeply. You missed his laugh, you realize, not hearing the sound in a while. Not since before Mingyu came around. “What am I gonna do with you, love?”

You shrug and go back to washing the bowls, hiding your smile behind soap suds and dishwater.

Soobin’s leg shakes as he sits on your couch, watching the clock on the spot above your door. 10:49 PM. He’s been waiting for hours to welcome you home from your “friendly” date with Mingyu. Admittedly, he’s been waiting since the second you left, the night of Valentine’s Day on the forefront of his brain since he heard the meathead ask you to have dinner.

Minho and Key keep him company, the older animals in your horde understanding and patient while Soobin mopes around. The angel feels as impatient as Bori can be when she has to wait for dinner.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Soobin says to Key, the chihuahua’s overbite hanging almost like a taunt. “I’m not stewing.”

He’s definitely stewing. The animals must be saying to each other, conspiring about what will occur when their mother finally gets home.

And on the cusp of eleven, you walk into the house and unbuckle your heels. You watch Soobin on the couch, his hands fidgeting on his lap. “Have you been sitting there for three hours?” You ask in a cute tone that drives Soobin nuts.

“No, I made the animals dinner.” You set your bag on the iron wrack where your coats lie, and throw your shoes in some corner of the living room before Soobin continues with, “So, how was the date?”

You stride to the mirror, beginning to unclasp the flashy studs in your ears. “It was fine. Nothing special. Just two friends having dinner.”

“That’s all it was? No candles at the table, no romantic music, nothing?”

“Why are you so concerned, Soobin? I went out, I had fun, now I’m home.” Soobin’s not prepared to hear your voice so clipped and direct. Your frustration is usually a mask of humor or concern. Not genuine anger, like right now. You don’t look at him directly, continuing to remove your jewelry as your ire grows.

You try to de-escalate the argument by retreating to the kitchen, but he only follows you there. And moving back into the living doesn’t help either. “Stop following me, Soobin!”

“Stop running away,” he barks back.

“I will when you stop making a big deal out of this.”

“It is a big deal,” he says with a scoff. “And am I not allowed to worry about you and who you’re with?” He asks with a bite that matches your irritation.

“Why are you so concerned if Mingyu’s the person you wanted to set me up with in the first place?”

“Don’t ask me that question,” he whispers. His jaw tightens and his hands clam up, but you don’t give in. If he wants to finish the discussion, then you’ll continue to press him for an answer.

“Why? What kind of ‘proprietary information’ relates to how you feel about this? What does me going out with Mingyu and you being a complete ass about it have anything to do with top-secret intel?”

“I love you, alright?!” He yells, standing stock still as his veins pulse in his head and neck. His hands go to the messy strands of his hair, almost like he feels himself going crazy at his own confession. “I did not mean to, and it’s awful. I can’t give you the life you deserve. Someone like Mingyu or any other human man would be lucky to have you, yet I can barely stomach the thought of someone else getting to touch you in all the ways I wish I could. And it’s driving me insane.”

The confession knocks something loose inside of you, remaining inhibitions be damned if it means now that the feelings Soobin harbors mirror your own without a doubt. 

You step closer to him, the tension almost too much to bear any longer. You press your hands to his neck, and bring him closer until your lips are a mere inch apart. “Nothing and nobody’s stopping you, Soobin.”

He takes a deep breath to hold himself back,  grounding himself so he doesn’t do something that will upend both of your worlds. “You don’t know that, love.”

You chuckle softly. “Maybe not, but I do know that I love you too.”

When you brush his mouth with your own, every being in the universe, heavenly or not, ceases to exist in your mind. It’s only you and Soobin in your own world. You want to kick yourself for taking so long to seize this moment, this kiss, with him. For all of the reasons Soobin supplies as to why it’s wrong for the two of you to be together, this could not feel more right.

Soobin only gives himself a second of separation from you to catch his breath before he dives back in for one, two, three more kisses. He moans eagerly into your mouth. He tugs on the fabric of your dress to occupy his hands, his body hungry for any contact he can get.

Heavens do be damned, if it means he can keep you between his arms and against his lips. 

Your back hits the bed as Soobin attaches his lips to your neck. The dogs scratch at the locked door of your bedroom, but you know they’ll give up after another minute of waiting for a result that will never come. You have other priorities to tend to.

Soobin’s lips and teeth mark you up as he travels along your skin with his mouth. He removes your dress and his shirt so your skin is in closer contact, the feeling of his every present warmth lighting you from the inside out. Your undergarments are still in the way, but you know they’ll be discarded soon.

“You do not know how many days I wished for this,” he mumbles into the spot between your breasts, his kisses setting you on fire to the point you can barely tell where he’s going next. He unclasps the clips holding your bra together, your top half now bare for his eyes to witness.

He marvels at the fullness of your chest before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He licks at the skin as he suckles. The action pulls a moan from your lips, your body thrusting up at nothing but open air.

“You can touch me in other ways, Soobin,” you gasp, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers.

He blushes a deep crimson, releasing your nipple from his lips. “I don’t know how,” he admits.

You take his hand to guide lower to the top of your underwear, urging him to slip his hand inside. He does so, immediately finding the wetness of your folds against his fingertips. “You can move them around—just like that.” 

He takes your advice and expertly finds your clit to take between his thumb and index finger. Your hips buck up into his touch, and he smirks against your lips. He asks, “Is this what you like?”

“Yes, please.” He takes your underwear off to freely glide his fingers in and out of you, three of the digits simultaneously filling you but leaving you aching for more. “Please, Soobin, please,” you beg.

“What do you want, my love? Don’t hold back.”

“I want you inside of me,” you confess. He listens to your request without question. Unbuckling his pants, his cock springs free to make your eyes linger to the bottom half of his body. You don’t guess for long what it feels like, as he immediately sinks into you to make your eyelids flutter.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim, pressing your hands to his lower back, pushing him in deeper until he’s filling you to the hilt.

“You feel amazing.” Soobin says the words against your lips as he thrusts for the first time. He pulls completely before slipping back in, groaning the entire way.

While you appreciate the slow movement of his body against yours, not too eager to rush the experience, you cling to him with eager fingers, hoping the message will come across. “Soobin, go faster.”

You’ve only ever been with two other men in your life, two lackluster experiences in college you wished to forget. All the time between now was just a waiting game, you only willing to go the distance when you felt it was with the right person. And it seems like all the failures in your history have led you to this perfect blip in time.

Like Soobin can read your mind, he slows down just enough so he can whisper to you, “It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you.”

You can’t help the tear that forms in your eye, but it’s quickly kissed away with Soobin’s lips on your cheek and, subsequently, your mouth.

“I’m gonna come, Soobin. Please don’t stop.” His hips work faster, his thumb pressing down and rubbing your clit harder, and you can barely feel your body before it lights up in every area.

Your toes curl, your mouth slacks, and your soul explodes as the pleasure overtakes you. You feel empty yet so full from the endorphins released from your orgasm.

Soobin continues to move his hips against yours. His pace stutters, signaling his own release. He captures his lips with yours as he spills inside of you, your body his to claim completely. Nobody has ever had you in this way—emotionally, mentally, physically.

When you tell Soobin “I love you,” you mean it in every facet of reality, your soul intimately linked with his otherworldly one.

“I love you too, my love.” He smiles like a bashful child, taking you into his arms and pulling you closer as the night continues on outside. When you again, bodies intertwined between your sheets, all that you wish for now is for the moment to last forever.

And when you fall asleep that night in his arms a few hours later, you pray to every god you can name that it never ends.

The expectation of waking up to the warmth of Soobin’s arms and kisses dies when you feel his empty side of the bed. You search the entire house , your dogs padding behind you as you search every corner for him. 

To your terror and slowly breaking heart, he remains to be seen. Soobin is gone like he was never there to begin with, your house flooding with a chill that hits you to the core.

You crawl back into bed, naked and alone, tears streaming down your face. The only time you rise is to let the animals eat and use the bathroom. For the rest of the day, you remain in bed like a phantom. Half out of your body, half inside of it to feel every ounce of pain. Each shred of sadness reminds you that you still exist, and the man—angel—that you love is gone.

Yeonjun has his head in his hand when another pair of associates throw Soobin in front of his desk. Soobin put up an intense fight in the resulting scuffle to bring him back to the office above Earth, but he doesn’t regret it. The only thing he regrets is not leaving you with some sort of explanation, even something as little as a minute to tell you he loves you.

“When I approved your descent, I expected you to help your assignment. Not sleep with her.” Yeonjun sighs and reads over the paperwork at his desk. “The guys above me are gonna love this.”

“Jun, please.” Soobin falls down on his scraped knees and raises his hands in a prayer. “Let me just tell her—”

“What else is there to explain? You’ve clearly done enough.”

“I’m begging you—”

“You think I’m going to let you spend another second with her and make me look like an idiot? No.” He slams his hand on the desk. “If you’re lucky, Soobin, all the archangels will do is send you to the second circle of Hell. I’m surprised they’re not reprimanding me as your superior. You broke our greatest oath.”

Do not consort with humans, Soobin reminds himself as tears stream down his face. “I love her, Yeonjun. And you know she loves me. Didn’t I do my job? I found her a soulmate, just like she wished for.”

Yeonjun shakes his head with a sad smirk. “Don’t think you can get around our rules this time, Soobin. I just called you here to tell you the council will see you in the morning. Be grateful they’re giving you a chance to explain yourself.”

The angels that brought Soobin in drag him away to the lower cells of the building. As he’s pushed and pulled through dark hallways, Soobin has barely enough time to come up with a plan to fix what he’s ruined. Barely.

Your dream is almost the same as the one you envisioned months ago, the dark cavern welcoming you like an old friend. The fog of your transition from sleep to dreaming still pervades your senses. You barely have time to make out the details before Soobin has you wrapped in his arms, holding you so tightly that you feel the air knocked out of your lungs. “Thank God it worked.”

You sob immediately when you recognize Soobin’s voice and his arms around you. It’s like a magnet the way you gravitate to one another, not worrying if the dream will last a second or into eternity. You can barely remember the pain of being without him now that he’s in front of you.

You call his name as he kisses the crown of your hair. He backs you into the desk at the far end of the room, lifting you up by the legs to sit on its marble top. He trails his lips down until they meet your own, and he says so tenderly, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up.”

Breaking into a fit of sad laughter, you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m just happy you’re here with me now.” You kiss him again and again, until your lips feel bruised and sore.

Soobin sheds a tear and looks back into the night outside of his office door. “I don’t have long. They’ll bring me back to my cell soon. But I wanted to tell you I love you. And I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“W-Why are you being punished? You did what you were s-supposed to,” you stutter, a mournful knot building in your throat.

“I fell in love with a human when I shouldn’t have,” he answers, another tear welling in his eye. “But it was worth every rule I broke. How could I regret finding my best friend?” Soobin smiles despite the pain that you two share. 

You hiccup into his neck. “When will I see you again?”

“I-I don't know. But I’ll fix this,” he assures you, a steadfast determination in his expression.

“You don’t know that for sure, though,” you cry, heart ripping deeper at the seams with each word. 

“I don’t, but for now, know that I love you. I love you more than my existence allows.” He kisses you one more time as the edges of your dream blur. “It’s only for now, I promise.”

When you wake tangled in the comforter on your bed, the morning sky bleeding through your window, you begin the torture of waiting for the person you love most in the world to come back to you.

TWO MONTHS LATER

For the past seven Fridays since Soobin left, you’ve stayed in and waited for the phone to ring or the doorbell to sound, any way to signify that he hasn’t broken his promise. You don’t bother going into work, trying to find any excuse to stay in the house.

Beomgyu tries to get you out, go on dates, avoid the aching hole in your chest, but he doesn’t understand. None of your friends do. They think he’s left without an explanation like another random asshole would, but they don’t understand how wrong they are.

They’ll never understand you’re waiting for the one who took your heart between his hands and still holds it to this day, even if you can’t see him for now.

For now. The words play in your mind on a loop, the sound of Soobin’s voice as vivid as the day he said them between kisses in your dream. It’s only for now, I promise.

This Friday, you take his words to heart and decide to go out. You walk Key and Bori, the morning sun turning into an afternoon sky clear of clouds. The warmer weather signals winter is giving way to spring, although you can still feel the chill in your bones.

When you bring the dogs back home, you’re still too restless to stay inside, too many memories in the house haunting you with Soobin’s presence.

You walk around the town streets, the memories of those you love the most filling your heart with a solemn nostalgia that edges out the parts of you that are still miserable. You and Beomgyu learning to ride bikes around the animal shelter. Your parents treating you to your first scoop of mint chocolate ice cream after you won gold at your spelling contest. The kiss you shared with Soobin in your living room, and all the kisses that followed.

Each one contains longing for the past, yet offers some hope for making fresh memories in the same spots. And even locations you haven’t discovered yet.

By the second trip around the blocks you know too well, nighttime rears its head. The city lights mark the street names and numbers with a yellow glow, the heavens above pitch black.

Your legs are sluggish, ankles sore from continuing through the world around you without stopping for rest, but no physical excursion compared to the mental expedition you’ve been on today, a microcosm for all of your tangled emotions for the past two months.

 You almost give into the demands of your body when you hear the faintest sound of your name behind you. Turning on shaking limbs, you see the perfect contours and edges of the man you love in crystal clarity. His shoulders heave as his face remains wet with tears, his body on the verge of convulsing from the travel back to you.

Although every muscle strains and screams inside of you, you run towards him with all of your might and crash into his arms. The water on your cheeks mixes with his when your skin touches. He kisses each tear before he reaches your lips, his mouth tasting of salt and peppermint.

“I’m here. I’m here, my love.” He strokes your hair with his hand and runs the other across your back.

“I didn’t get to say I love you too, last time I saw you,” you say, the words tumbling over one another as you try getting them about. You’re crying and mumbling and it all feels incoherent, but you know every sound you emit is true.

Soobin chuckles, and you’re reminded how beautiful the sound of his laughter is. “You never had to say it back, my love. I already knew.”

Your heartbeat is erratic, but it doesn’t distract you from the fact Soobin’s heart seems to beat as well. A strong, even-tempered rhythm, one you’ve never heard before. You look him deep in the eyes, needing to hear the words on his lips. “Are you—“

His voice is still hoarse and tattered, but his smile is like the salve to all of your wounds. “I told you I would come back to you.”

You whimper, another tear escaping from your eyes. “You gave up everything for me? Your immortality, your friends, your—”

He presses a finger to your lips before running it over your cheek, his expression soft. “I completed my mission. And my everything is right here with me.”

You kiss his lips, all the I love you’s not enough to encapsulate every feeling and gift Soobin’s given you since he came into your life. You both may be on Earth, one old and one new human soul linked as one, but you know this is what it means to be higher than even the immensity of heaven.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @biteyoubiteme @jjunbug

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[paradiseismine]

Finnverse kinks - Headcanons

Pairing: Finnverse characters x f!reader

Warnings: pretty spicy (duh), but no actual smut scenes.

Summary: kinks I believe each Finn character would have hehehe

Love note from Nina: would you like me to turn each kink into a full fic? let me know, lovelies!

Boris Pavlikovsky

💋 SUI (sex under the influence)

We all know that he’s a stoner, but Boris lovesss to see you all sensitive from some MDMA, shivering and moaning at the softest graze of his fingers; or laughing while riding him with a joint in your hand (he thinks you look specially sexy while doing it). Boris is already insatiable sober, but when you get high with him is a whole different story - let’s just say you’ll be really satisfied (and well, a bit sore) the next morning.

💋 Pet kink

He’ll call you bunny, kitty and other pet animal names. He got you a choker that resembles a collar, and you wear it nearly every time you two have sex. He’ll pull your face closer to his by your collar, telling you to be a good pet and do as he says. It all started with him jokingly saying that you were an animal in bed, but as time went on, he got a bit more literal with that.

💋 Daddy kink

Expect that delicious Russian accent to tell you to “cum for daddy” or to “come suck dick for daddy” multiple times during your intimacy. And of course, you have to call him daddy as well, giving him the “yes sir”, and the big pleading eyes.

If you don’t oblige, he’ll flip you over his lap and spank you until you call him daddy. “What did you want from daddy, my little girl?” and you’ll babble, so horny you’ll sound drunk “Your cock, daddy, I need your cock in my pussy, need you to stretch out my little hole real good, please”

Mike Wheeler

💋 (Not so) secret hickeys/love bites

Mikey absolutely loves to mark you as his, leaving little purple bruises on your neck, on your breasts or on your shoulders. He won’t say it to your face, but if he left a hickey on your breasts and you decide to wear a low cut shirt later that day, showing off the bruise to all of your friends, he’ll fuck you extra hard when you two get alone. Something about other people seeing how you belong to him sends this boy over the edge, and it’s his pleasure to let you know how he feels.

💋 Risky sex

Oh, so you two are going to the movies? Make sure to wear a skirt, and make sure it’s shorter this time, so you won’t draw so much attention when he starts fingering your pussy and making you stifle your moans halfway through the movie. Going camping? Good, he always wanted to get his dick sucked under a tree beneath the stars.

Basically, Mikey wants to have you in places where you two could possibly get caught, that thrill gets him rock hard in a second - and let’s face it, you have a lot of fun with it too.

💋 Panties in his pocket

Now, if you really want to drive Mike wild, try going to the bathroom, taking off your panties and sneaking them in the back pocket of his pants. You did this once at a friend’s house party, and the way he fucked you afterwards still gives you chills just thinking about it.

You can do that at a restaurant, at a trip or something along those lines - knowing you’re so naughty just for him, and so eager for him to please you that you can’t even keep your underwear on is sure to make him lose his mind. He’ll grab you by the hips as soon as you’re alone and whisper to your ear, “Does my princess need her man to take care of her, yeah? I got you, sweet girl”

Miles Fairchild

💋 Shibari

It goes without saying that this one here is a dom - we all know it by now - but he absolutely loves to tie you up. Mostly he uses actual ropes, but he has bought a myriad of different materials to tie you up with, just to, you know, switch things up. He’ll tie you up to the ceiling, completely naked, and fuck you without moving a muscle himself, just from your swinging at the ropes. He’ll bounce you on his cock and say something like “ah, now you’re just the way I like it, all exposed and tied up for me to use, my little puppet sex doll”

💋 Free use

Speaking of “use”, Miles loves some free use. He loves to lower your pants or lift up your dress out of the blue and fuck you senseless. He’ll also lower your top’s spaghetti straps and suckle on your boobs like a starving baby whenever he wants, stroking himself in the mean time.

It goes both ways, though: you’re free to pump him hard and make him fuck your tight slit as much as you want and whenever you want, or force his face onto your pussy to get him to eat you out. He basically never says no, and is always eager to please his slutty princess however she wants.

💋 Knife play

He gets all hot and heavy when you declutter your closet: that means that some old/stained clothes, that would normally be discarded, now get to be cut through by his knife. Miles gets FERAL when you let him cut through your clothes to undress you. It’s all about how dominant he feels doing that.

On special occasions, you’d even let him do a small cut on a less visible/less prone to excessive bleeding part of your body. That boy is a sucker for your blood and will lick it all off in a split second.

Trevor Spengler

💋 Soft domination

Trev is a softer dom - he’s way more likely to praise you instead of degrading you and doesn’t leave as many bruises or marks on your body, preferring his dominance to be more mental. But you must remember: he’s in charge, and he’ll gladly remind you of that if you dare forget it for a mere second.

Prepare yourself for some hair pulling, sensual biting, spanking and harsh groping, lotsss of getting asked “whose pussy is this, baby girl?” and “all wet and needy, aren’t you? what should I do to you first?” as his delicious raspy voice makes your brain melt away with lust.

💋 Breeding

Huge breeding kink, this one. It all boils down to his “modern hero” nature - he wants to save you, to protect you, to be your lifeline. And knowing that you would potentially trust him to father your children drives this boy wild.

He’ll always say things like “You got such a tight little pussy, princess, can I cum inside you already?”, “I’m gonna fill you up to the brim tonight, love” or “I’m gonna pump you so full of my cum, you won’t even be able to hold it all inside you”. So, uh…Pulling out? Not his game. Your pussy leaking with his cum and it dripping down your legs the whole day sounds way more fun.

💋 Car sex

The Ectomobile and Trevor have a long history together by now, and he wants you to be part of it. Whether you are sitting on the hood of the car or bent over it, or lying on the backseat, or got one leg to each side of his waist behind the steering wheel, Trev will never deny any sexual advances in his car. Quickies? Long, elaborate sex? He’s down. Sucking his dick while he drives is a particular favorite, and it makes him cum a lot sooner than usual, he just can’t hold it in - you look so hot, so slutty, so submissive doing that, he loves it.

Ziggy Katz

💋 Sex tape kink

Besides also liking nudes and sexting, it’s when you’re home and his camera is fully charged that this boy gets the most throbbing erections. You don’t even have to actually press the record button if you don’t want to, but just the fantasy of recording or (even better) live-streaming your sex makes Ziggy feel like he might explode. He’ll tell you to “smile for the camera” as he cums in your face, get you on all fours and pound into your pussy from behind as you moan and watch your own face contort in pleasure by looking at the camera’s viewfinder.

💋 Exhibitionism

Filming your intimacy is merely a small part of Ziggy’s main kink: exhibitionism. He absolutely loves to discreetly grab your butt in public while you two walk together, to swiftly get his hand under your skirt while kissing at a corner of a party, all that silly stuff. He just wants everyone to know he bagged such a babe. You’re so pretty he still can’t believe you like him and wanted to be his girlfriend - so now he’s gotta show you off as much as he can (well, as much as you’ll let him, ‘cause this boy would fuck you in front of an audience if he could).

💋 Feet

Ziggy will kiss your feet whenever they’re reachable when you two are getting it on. He’ll always compliment your pedicure, call you his goddess, say how soft and beautiful your feet are. Occasionally, he’ll ask for a footjob, saying things like “You’re so gorgeous, love, I bet you could make me cum using only your feet” or “let’s put that red pedicure you just got for a better use, huh?” He just worships you all over, but there’s something about your feet that gets him specially hard.

[petals2fish]

He’s shirtless.

He’s fucking standing there, shirtless.

Lily did not know what to do with her hands, or eyes, or legs, or hair. She’s frozen in the middle of the field where she’d been meeting Marley for a post practice walk back to the castle for the Slug Club meeting. Marley was busy blabbering on about Anna Spinnet getting on her nerves, going on and on about some rule book thing.

Maybe.

To be honest, the words didn’t even register in Lily’s brain. There was nothing going on up there, not a single brain cell firing, not once she caught sight of him. Instead she stood there, mute, wondering if she could die from attraction.

Next to “Fatal Attraction” in the dictionary, was James Potter.

Now don’t get her wrong, she crushed on him everyday. He had many qualities that made him worthy of a swoon.

His hair, for one, was windswept to one side with curls sticking out in places he’d not managed to tap down. She’d once gotten to run her fingers through the strands and they’d felt like sugar candy from the fair, waves spun like thread that might melt from her touch.

His eyes, if she were standing close enough, would be a deep shade of brown with gold and green flecks. Not emerald green like hers, a softer green, like the color of the sea in photos from southern islands. She’d seen it in postcards, almost like diamonds reflecting a green light.

More impressively, he was shirtless.

Rippled arm muscles demanded her gaze as he drank from a water bottle, the water dripping out of his mouth he was so careless with it. It was May, warming up, and the early summer sun had slightly tanned his chest. Curly black hair ran across his chest, and normally she hated chest hair, but this was James Potter. 

He broke all her rules but that only made sense where he was concerned. Lily often wondered if the man had ever followed a rule in his life. He was known for detentions and late night parties with friends. He had no idea how to stay out of trouble, but maybe that’s why she liked him so much.

She couldn’t stay out of trouble either.

Lily imagined if he ever showed up to class like that, she would grab him by the waistband of his quidditch joggers and pull him into her lap. Merlin, he’d tower over her, consume her, on top. His hand was big enough to hold a quaffle so he could handle her breasts with ease. One of those hands ran across his beautiful body, preparing to stretch and—

She swallowed a sigh just as someone side smacked her, making her call out and capturing the attention of everyone nearby.

“What was that for!” Lily demanded with a cry, rubbing the side of her head and glaring at Sirius Black who had his arms crossed and was looking at her like he could read her mind.

“Dunno,” Sirius tilted his head, his grey eyes slightly narrowed, “I couldn’t tell if you were having a stroke or not, your eye kept twitching.”

“So you hit me?” Lily stepped away from the tall Gryffindor, still rubbing her cheek pathetically, her eyes darting back to James who (still shirtless) was now watching them with one eyebrow quirked.

“My house elf taught me to smack my uncle Boris when he was having a stroke,” Sirius shrugged as he waltzed past, cool as could be, in James’ direction. “Hasn’t failed me yet.”

“I wasn’t having a stroke!” She called after him, “I was—“

Sirius grinned wickedly as he turned on a heel to watch her expression momentarily falter as she stopped herself from speaking. “I know what you were doing, but until you’re willing to pay up, gawking counts.”

She shot him a nasty hand gesture at which he laughed before finishing a complete turn to face James who mumbled something to Sirius quietly. Sirius kept in a bit of laughter as he passed James a shirt, not answering.

Lily cursed Sirius within an inch of his life when James took the shirt and covered back up. Sure, she might’ve made a bet with Sirius that she’d never date James Potter, or else she’d owe him twenty galleons, but that hardly meant she couldn’t stare politely when James offered himself up for it.

She just had to figure out how to get him shirtless again.

[carolmunson]

modern!eddie x tipsy!reader

“Ooh, someone had fun,” he giggles from the couch while you stumble into the living room. He knew what to expect the moment he got your texts an hour ago.

omg can’’t t wait to duxk u when i home get t ho home* duck***** fuck u***

tell me they were at least good quality shots

casa migos i

aw come on, i taught you better than that

and wine

yeah? what kind?

.rose?

rosé?

all day lol and espresSo

martini?

😎 ya

sweetheart, did you eat at all?

yes!! we’ee getting za we ate before and now done dri nking

okay, will i see you soon?

ya soon we can sex

He laughed at that one, a hearty belly laugh. You’re only like this when you’re wasted. Clawing and snarling like a starved animal at the sight of him, the thought of him.

When you stumble in you’re lucid for the most part but your eyes are glassy with evidence of a good night. He can tell you smoked too, which means you’ll need more ibuprofen than you normally do when you drink.

You drop your purse and jacket next to the door, kicking off your heels by the TV stand. He’ll pick them up later.

“Hi baby,” he smirks coolly while you make your way to him on the couch.

“I had so much fun,” you respond, unbuttoning your jeans and shimmying them off, “But I never wanna wear ‘standing jeans’ again.”

He doesn’t know what you mean by that but he doesn’t ask, just nods, welcoming you with open arms while you straddle his lap. The second your faced dips into his neck he knows your promises of ravaging him are long broken. Your body relaxes, sinking in against his chest.

“I’m glad you had a good night, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, hand sliding up and down your back. Your breaths come in slow, he can feel your lashes fluttering against his skin while you force yourself to stay awake.

“Would’ve been funner if you were there,” you say into the crook of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “You make everything fun.”

Eddie’s heart swells, “You think?”

You lean up, looking at him with glassy eyes, more tired than wasted, “I know.”

He leans his head back between the cushions, bangs dusting his eyes, “You make everything fun for me, too.”

You grin, a sloppy one, “You know how I can make tonight really fun?”

Your fingers skate up his chest, sending a shiver through him that stirs in his sweatpants.

“Sweetheart…” he warns gently.

“C’mon,” you whine, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, “Please.”

“Doll, you’ve been drinkin’,” he reminds, reaching up to cup your cheek, “You know I don’t like playing around like that.”

“I’m not drunk though,” you protest, “I can do the drunk driver test. I swear.”

“By the way you’re falling asleep sitting up, I doubt it,” he laughs. He leans up, supporting you on his thighs while he goes in to plant a loving kiss on your lips, “I think we should head to bed.”

“Lame,” you frown, scrunching your face. You shimmy off his lap and cross your arms, walking down the hall to the bedroom.

“Kissin’ me like that like some kinda Cassanova…” you grumble. He rolls his eyes, getting some water and aspirin for you while you change into some pajamas.

“That’s what the call me. Eddie Casanova Munson,” he grizzles, leaning against the door frame with the glass and pills and hand, “Your libations, princess.”

Your sour look doesn’t fade when you take them, but you to say a quiet thank you when the pills pass your lips.

“Am I not fun anymore?” he teases.

“No, you’re still fun,” you sigh, crawling into bed where he follows. Eddie takes a silent win when you wrap yourself around him after sliding between the sheets.

“I’ll be more fun tomorrow,” he smiles, burying himself in your neck. You feel his warm scratchy chin and shiver, soft kisses following it, “It’s gonna rain.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun,” you murmur, the bed feeling cozier with every passing moment while the alcohol rushes in you for one last sleepy hurrah.

“Yeah it is,” he responds quietly, feeling you grow heavy and slack against him, “We can stay in all day.”

“Boring.”

“Boring huh?” he smirks, “I don’t know, I thought maybe we could revisit your texts.”

[theladyofbloodshed]

@nerisweek - Day 5 - Modern AU

The autumn began to encroach on her morning runs. Darkness nibbled at them, taking more for itself each day, so soon she’d have to stop. Not that she was particularly sad about that fact.

Nesta was not a natural runner. She was not one of those absolute weirdos who saw running as therapy or enjoyable. She was simply stubborn enough to force herself into it when her gym hiked the prices to an obscene amount that she refused to pay.

Her usual trail was a quiet dirt path that skirted the edge of a forest with no other life to be found. If her friends knew that she took it in near darkness, they’d kill her. If they knew she jogged with headphones in, blocking out every single sound, they’d kill her twice.

When she reached her mark – a boulder with moss that resembled hair – she knew to turn around. Nesta took a rest on the usual log, inhaling deeply. People who found joy in running were unwell. There was nothing enjoyable about sweaty sports bras or shin splints.

Just as she aimed to rise, a pair of yellow eyes were looking back at her.

She staggered, tripped on the log then ended up arse over elbow. Her back screamed in protest but that was the least of her worries. A massive, black head pushed its muzzle against her face, hot tongue covering her neck while Nesta’s hands got lost in its mass of fur, trying to push it away.

‘Get the hell off of me!’

The dog reared back then sat patiently awaiting her next command. It was more wolf than dog, with thick, black and tan fur, and horrible eyes that never left her face.

There was a collar at least although Nesta couldn’t understand why anybody in their right mind would want a dog, much less this one. They were horrid things that left fur upon every surface and smelt. Nesta shuddered inwardly at the sound of her mother’s voice repeating in her head.

‘Find your owner. Shoo.’

The dog remained staring and panting. Gingerly, Nesta reached for its tag.

‘The goddess of chaos and strife is your owner?’ Nesta gave a sigh as she scanned the forest. ‘Is she dead in a ditch? Go and find her. Go Lassie.’

When he showed no signs of leaving, Nesta had a quick scan of the area – then he did follow her. Each time she stopped, so did the dog. Nesta called the owner four times and the cell remained switched off.

‘Maybe Eris didn’t want you. Shame,’ she said to the dog. ‘Your name isn’t Eris, is it? Eris Vanserra is a strange name for a dog, but my friend, Emerie, has a snake called Sweetcorn, so what is normal?’

At the car, the dog waited expectantly.

‘Oh, no. You’re an animal. Enjoy the wilderness. Run free, Eris.’

They were far out from anywhere except a farm. Against her better judgement, Nesta allowed him into the trunk. The damn beast leapt over the backseats and sat shotgun.

‘You don’t look like an Eris,’ she said, taking the driver’s seat.

Nesta fired off names. Boris, Lucky, Drainpipe, and Jacob Black had no effect whatsoever but Hellhound did make his ears prick.

‘Hellhound it is, my furry friend.’

The farmer reported no lost dogs and suggested a shelter, but he was a scary looking dog and they never fared well. Somebody loved him. Eris Vanserra loved him enough to put a metal tag shaped like a bone on his collar.

‘Who names their daughter Eris and why the hell won’t she answer the phone?’

It had started ringing once or twice as she drove them home, but Eris quickly refused the call.

‘Your owner is very rude, Hellhound.’ Nesta supposed she could keep the dog in her apartment for a few hours. She was working from home besides so she’d be able to keep an eye if he started chewing things. The dog drank deeply from a mixing bowl, clearly thirsty from his days spent roaming the forest. Nesta rushed down to the convenience store to grab a few tins of food, but once she set one down on a plate, Hellhound didn’t move.

‘You cannot be a fussy eater.’

The dog sat upright, but every now and then he gave a whine or shuffled on the spot.

‘Eat?’

Hellhound dived in, demolishing the tin in seconds.

When she sat at her desk to begin work, Hellhound curled up beside her feet and slipped into a heavy sleep. The snoring was irritating, but the warmth of his body next to hers was welcome.

Her phone buzzed.

‘I am in back-to-back meetings. Stop calling. I don’t want what you’re selling.’

Nesta read the text again, frowning at the words. Her fingers flew over the keys.

‘I have your dog,’ she wrote.

When no reply came, Nesta continued with her work. They took two trips outside for the bathroom – Hellhound, not her – then she decided to take him to visit her friends. Gwyn loved animals and Nesta was sure that Emerie wouldn’t mind having the dog until Eris Vanserra deigned her dog important enough to respond.

Once they started their walk, Nesta soon realised that Hellhound lived up to his moniker. She had said the word no more times than she could count, but – to his credit – the dog did listen to her. He stopped his barking and pulling, only letting out the occasional low growl which she quelled quickly. People kept a wide berth from them – which she found that she liked a lot. However, at the sight of Em and Gwyn, Hellhound went berserk again.

‘What’s wrong with that dog?’

Emerie refused to leave the step and Nesta didn’t blame her.

‘I don’t know. He was fine with me. He just hates everybody else.’

‘Has he got rabies?’

Nesta looked for froth around his mouth. ‘He better not,’ she replied. ‘Hellhound, enough.’ He stopped. ‘Sit.’ He sat.

Oh, she liked this.

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

‘Excuse me?’

Nesta snapped a photo of Hellhound staring at Emerie with murder in his eyes.

Another text, ‘Is this a ransom?’

This Eris was not the sharpest tool. She gave a light tug on Hellhound’s lead. ‘I’ll take him home. Maybe he’s missing his owner.’

‘I don’t think you should let him in your house,’ called Gwyn from the upstairs window. ‘He’s not safe.’

To show them wrong, Nesta went nose to nose with the dog. He wagged his tail and tried to lick her, but that was all. She shrugged. The dog hadn’t been a problem for her. He just seemed to hate everybody else and looked like he wanted to eat them – but Nesta could cope with that. Mostly, he was at her heels like a lost sheep.

Hellhound was a good boy. He didn’t chew the furniture, didn’t cause chaos, just simply jumped onto the couch beside her then lay across her lap. Perhaps he was slightly too big to be a lap dog, but Nesta found that she didn’t mind.

When her phone rang as they were getting ready for bed, Nesta exclaimed, ‘It’s your mama! Finally.’

But it was not a woman’s voice. The voice was deep and smooth as he said a greeting.

‘What I’d like to understand is how my dog is in your possession,’ he said.

A thank you would have been nice, she thought.

‘He was in the woods past Sunny Skies farm. The one with the sign that has a cow with three legs. Anyway. He seemed thirsty and followed me-’

This Eris interrupted her. ‘My useless brother was meant to feed and walk him while I’m away. Three days ago, he got out. What I meant is, how do you have him in your house?’

Nesta rubbed the dog’s belly which received a grateful wag of his tail. ‘Well, I have a magic device called a car. A few thousand years ago, the wheel was invented and-’

‘He doesn’t go to anybody.’

If this man interrupted her one more time…

‘My brother was terrified of Erebus-’

‘Erebus? You named your dog after darkness? And you are named after chaos?’

She imagined a stiff-lipped man wincing at her tone.

‘How do you know that?’

History that was thousands of years old wasn’t a secret, she thought, but Nesta replied, ‘I work in a library.’

Eris was silent for a long while, so Nesta pinned the phone to her ear with her shoulder and started drawing the curtains while Hellhound made himself comfy. She joined him in the bed.

‘Erebus has been fine with you?’ He asked. ‘He isn’t particularly friendly. He doesn’t like anybody except for me.’

‘Well, he’s currently laying beside me in my bed with his head resting onto my stomach.’

‘That’s odd.’

‘It’s your dog.’

He sucked in a long breath. ‘Look, I’m at this conference for another few days. Can you keep him until then?’

‘Why shouldn’t I just take him to the pound?’

‘As soon as he growls, they’ll have him killed. Please. I can pay you for any expenses – and extra. I’ve had him since he was a puppy. Please. You’ll be paid handsomely.’

The money didn’t matter. This big, ball of fluff that was worming his way into her bed, and her heart, did though. She knew he wouldn’t last long in a shelter.

‘Fine. Three days only.’

‘You are an angel. Thank you.’

In the days that followed, Hellhound was not an issue.

The dog accompanied Nesta on her morning runs and she’d bought a tennis ball to throw so he’d race ahead and return. He dropped the tennis ball into her outstretched hand without a fuss; he never held onto the ball, never growled, just wagged his tail waiting for the next throw. In the days, he’d be beside her while she worked. They went to the library so she could scan in new letters to archive at home and he did his best not to growl once she’d warned him off of it. They took walks in the evening when it was quiet and Hellhound padded along beside her. People kept their distance and Nesta had never felt safer walking through the city. At night, Hellhound had stolen the empty space in her bed – but it wasn’t as if anybody else was occupying it.

No, Hellhound was not a problem. He was an angel.

Eris Vanserra was the problem.

Eris Vanserra was a pain in the backside. She needed paying for dealing with him. Apparently, Hellhound needed a very specific blend of food which was specially made for him. Eris had debated giving Nesta the location of his spare key then decided she couldn’t be trusted as his guard dog was seemingly enamoured by her.  In the end, he sent Nesta scarpering across the city to ensure the dog ate a specific – and ridiculously expensive – brand. It would have been cheaper to feed the dog steak. There was only one type of brush that was good enough for his fur. He was not allowed tennis balls or rope toys and definitely no squeaky toys.

As Eris laid out his rules to her, Nesta looked down at Hellhound who was surrounded by carcasses of plush toys that he’d ripped open to get the squeaker out.

‘We won’t tell dad,’ she whispered. 

Apparently, he was meant to be a guard dog and they weren’t allowed to play. She’d disregard most of his mile long list of rules and regulations.

‘It is two nights,’ Nesta lamented to Eris on the phone during one of his frequent phone calls. They came often – as soon as he had a break in meetings and schmoozing. Texts were more frequent. She felt like Hellhound’s personal assistant.

‘Yes, well you are being paid and your expenses will be covered, as I have already told you.’

‘Tell you what, don’t pay me then I can do what I want with Hellhound.’

That earned a chuckle, ‘Erebus.’ 

Nesta knew what sort of man she was dealing with. He probably had an ex-wife and a handful of kids so this was his midlife crisis now he was experiencing single life once more. Hellhound would make him look fearsome. He was likely used to ordering people around but Nesta dug her heels in.

‘While he’s at Hotel Archeron, Hellhound is allowed as many tennis balls as he likes. The food, fine. But I am not buying fancy shampoo from the other side of the city. He can cope without a bath for a few days.’ Before Eris could cut in with his line about expenses, Nesta continued, ‘Don’t like it? Your brother collects him or he goes to a shelter.’

They both knew it wasn’t an option. Hellhound reacted to everybody else the way he did with Gwyn and Emerie.

‘You sound like a woman who knows what she wants.’

‘Yes, for strange men to stop micromanaging me.’

‘Micromanaging?’ he said on a laugh.

‘You asked for proof of the number on the scale because you didn’t believe I can accurately weigh his food.’

He countered, ‘I care a lot.’

‘Hellhound ate cat shit this morning. Should I have weighed that too, Eris?’

Another deep laugh then, ‘It’s getting late here. I’m delivering the speech in the morning.’

‘Is it about the preferred brand of conditioner for German Shepherds?’

‘He’s a Czechoslovakian Shepherd.’

Nesta gasped theatrically. ‘You’ve only told me that eighteen times.’

‘And still you forget.’

It was enjoyable in a way to annoy him. He made a little intake of breath then a sigh each time as if he wasn’t accustomed to such a thing.

‘I’ll come straight from the airport tomorrow – if that’s okay?’

‘No problem.’

‘Are you in bed too? Can you send me a photo?’

Before Nesta could tell Eris where to go, he amended, ‘Erebus. A photo of Erebus. Not you.’

Those final two words were barked out a little roughly.

When Nesta hung up the phone, she snapped a picture of Hellhound tucked up beside her with the blankets around his jaw. She had never invited a man to her home and it had been a long time since she’d shared a bed with a man although Nesta never stayed the night with them. With Hellhound here, it had been nice to talk to somebody. There was comfort in cosying up together. His tail would wag at her at the first signs of movement before attempting to smother her face with kisses. She would miss her furry friend.   

 The only respite from the stream of messages was when Eris was flying. It also meant that the time to say goodbye to Hellhound was drawing close – oddly, Nesta was aggrieved about that. The company had been welcomed despite her initial misgivings about allowing a dog into the house. The fur was manageable even if he shed like mad.

‘Shall we run away?’

Hellhound gave a long sigh in response.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ she said, flopping down beside him on the rug.

Their noses touched and she could see her reflection in his eyes.

‘Don’t you dare lick me.’

When the knock at the door came, Hellhound leapt up. His barks echoed through the empty apartment until Nesta told him to stop and sit. He obeyed her command although he jiggled on the spot like he wanted to continue throwing himself at the front door.

As she opened it, Hellhound started to move.

Her command of, ‘Stay,’ was reinforced by another voice saying, ‘Wait.’

Nesta was not in the habit of inviting men into her home. The few workers that had come to install her washing machine or fix the leaky tap had been watched like a hawk and not offered coffee, due to wounds from the past, but at the sight of Eris Vanserra standing in the doorway, Nesta could feel her morals making a hasty exit.

‘You’re Nesta?’

From that tone, she didn’t know what Eris had been expecting. She certainly had not been expecting a very tall man with big, brown eyes who looked like he went running three times a day. A bunch of flowers – sunflowers – were in his hands and he held a bag with an airport’s name branded across it in his other. Her eyes tried not to stray to the light grey sweatpants he wore.

‘No, I’m somebody else who has your dog,’ Nesta replied, trying not to gape. Not a middle-aged man having a crisis at all. 

‘These are for you,’ he said, gesturing to the bouquet of flowers. ‘Sorry, there wasn’t a lot of choice. And,’ he held out the bag, ‘duty free chocolate.’

‘You know how to spoil a woman,’ she said, then grimaced inwardly. Why had she said that? Was a subconscious part of her trying to flirt?

Eris squatted down. ‘Here.’

Hellhound raced at him, tail thrashing from side to side, as he leapt. Eris hauled him up, bouncing him like a baby. Even Nesta found herself smiling at their reunion.

They entered her apartment to discuss payment and Nesta tried to hide her great satisfaction when Hellhound jumped up beside her and practically sat in her lap rather than going to Eris. He didn’t miss it either.

‘It’s because I don’t let him on the couch. You’ve spoilt Erebus.’

Nesta rolled her eyes.

‘I can’t believe you let him in your bed either,’ continued Eris.

‘Well, nobody else is joining me.’

The words shot out before she could trap them away. Eris smirked at her and added, ‘That’s good to hear.’

Was he flirting in return?

There was no ring on his finger but he was too handsome to be single, she decided. Eris leaned over to pass her a wad of money. Too much money.

‘This is ridiculous,’ she exclaimed.

‘Honestly, when Lucien called to say he’d got out, I thought he was gone. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but Erebus is a reactive dog.’

‘I’ve noticed.’

Eris nodded. ‘He’s an angel with me, but – I don’t know. He hates everybody. I had visions of him getting shot or attacking someone. I’m just grateful that he’s still alive. I’d give you every cent in my bank if I could.’ He watched them both, eyes softening. ‘Why does he like you?’

‘Because I’m a nice person,’ she said. ‘I hate dogs. Well, I did until a few days ago. I don’t know. This one is fine.’

‘A glowing review.’

‘It’s the owner who has driven me insane. You’re like a new mother leaving her baby alone for the first time.’

Eris did not deny it, just held up his hands to plead guilty.

‘Just give me enough to cover the food. Don’t worry about the rest,’ she said, pushing the money back across the coffee table. ‘It’s been nice to have Hellhound here.’

‘Erebus.’

‘Eris.’

Long fingers dragged through his short, auburn hair. ‘I’ll be needing to go on a few more work trips over the next couple of months. If it is not too painful for you, would you consider dogsitting?’

Nesta pretended to mull it over. ‘It would mean I’d need to continue talking to you. I’m not sure if any amount of money is worth that.’

Eris placed a hand over his heart, feigning a wound. ‘At least you can see how deeply I care.’

‘I can,’ she said, running her fingers down Hellhound’s coat. ‘It can be his holiday home where he gets to play with tennis balls and sleep on the bed.’

Eris’ gaze lit her aflame. It was too perceptive as it traced every curve of her face. ‘What if I wanted to see you without the dog?’

The butterflies in her stomach gave a little flutter.

‘He literally hasn’t let anybody near me in six years,’ Eris murmured. ‘I’d be a fool if I didn’t follow the path that fate laid out for me. Will you go on a date with me?’

Nesta saw the hope in his eyes, found that she wanted it to grow. ‘Yes.’

[hopelesswritergall]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for Boris pavlikovsky x cutecore fem reader? Or miles Fairchild x cutecore fem reader headcanons? I’m fine with either one if you want to,have a lovely day!!<3

Alright I’m writing this in one sitting please bear with me… let me know if you find grammar issues. English isn’t my first language and I want to learn!

General Taglist: It’s quite lonely here……

TW: mention of fighting, bloody nose, bruises. Yandere tendencies

Meeting him

Alright Boris and a girl who wears mostly pink. Unlikely combination but it’s true.

You were the stereotypical girly girl. Pink? You loved it. Lipstick? Pink. Clothes? Pink. Notebooks? Pink. Hell you were almost like barbie and had a pink mood.

You were doing pretty good in school and kept your grades up. Boris on the other his grades were sinking faster than the titanic.

There was a group project coming up for English. You have to read a book, present and write an essay. This would be the chance for Boris to get his grade up.

“Hey Theo! Come on man, let’s do it together!”

“Unfortunately Mister Pavlikovsky, the groups will be decided by me.” Miss Clarence spoke.

Boris sunk back into his chair, well if he isn’t with Theo, he isn’t going to do shit.

“Hmmm. Let’s see. Boris you will be paired up with……. Ah of course! Y/N!.”

Y/N? Who the fuck is that?

Boris knew he should know the face that belongs to the name but he doesn’t.

Suddenly his vision is filled with pink and he nearly has a heart attack.

“Jesus woman, don’t you watch where you’re going?!”

“That’s a way to introduce yourself. I’m y/n! We’ll be partners for the next project”

Aww hell no. He couldn’t.

“Miss Clarence. Is there anyway we can switch partners?”

Getting to know him:

It was week 3 of the project and Boris hadn’t done much yet. You decided to play a game so he would do stuff and he would get “rewarded”, almost like a child or dog..

“Alright Boris, for every 5 sentences you write, you can ask me a question! That way we can get to know each other!”

“And why should I do that? I can just let you do all the work.” He crossed his arms and leaned back

“Otherwise I’ll only hand in my part and you’ll fail. Don’t think you’d wanna do the year over again, do you?”

He grumbled a bit before writing, he finished the first sentences pretty quick. “Fine, Uhm what is your favourite gift to receive?”

“Oooo, great question!! I love teddy bears, flowers or books!! But I love every gift that someone put effort in.”

You guys talked for some longer and Boris, not wanting it, felt more of a connection. He really wanted to fall through the floor.

Some things during the relationship:

Boris once got into a fight with Mark (only the OG’s will remember my hatred towards Mark) because Mark insulted your clothes. Was it worth the trip to the hospital to check out his nose and knuckles for? Yes. Everyone that makes you cry deserves to rot in hell.

He steals you little stuff from the stores. He will often give you a bracelet or a flower. You even got him to make a flower crown together. You had to swear to not tell anyone!

You guys watch a lot of television together, a LOT

He is very protective of you, always asks what colour you want something in, despite already knowing the answer deep down..

[izurusstuff]

⚠️ 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!! ⚠️

message from izurusstuff: hello, lovelies <3 i woke up today and immediately ran to tumblr because of an amazing thought i had >:) it’s inspired by @goddess-of-green’s teacher nagito smut, i highly recommend you check their’s out because it’s awesome and lives in my mind rent free. also this is 18+ only, minors do NOT interact!!! and everyone’s legal age. also there’s spoilers for the danganronpa 3 anime and ending of goodbye despair, so read with caution if you don’t want spoilers

summary: You’re a student at the University of Tokyo a couple years after The Tragedy. The whole ordeal inspired you to become a psychology major with a minor in ethics. It’s your senior year at the university— you only have a semester left until graduation. Everything was perfect until this point, but your high-level ethics professor makes it hard to keep up your perfect grades. Fed up, you confront him, which leads to… something special ;)

A+ (Teacher!Izuru Kamukura x Fem!Reader Smut)

It’s another day in class towards the end of the semester. Finals are quickly approaching, and your stoic teacher is handing your papers back at the end of class. For some reason, he just wouldn’t give out A’s in his class. Your perfect 4.0 GPA was going to be brought down by this right before you graduated! You grew tired of his antics. Of course, it didn’t really tick you off until you spent days without sleep trying to finish your paper. Every other source told you that it was amazing and captivating.

But you got a B+, an 89.9

You were basically fuming at that point. It was obvious Professor Kamukura wasn’t going to admit that your paper deserved an A. Rage boiled through your body. Your nostrils flared and your knuckles tightened. You stared into your professors eyes with pure anger. He wouldn’t admit it, but your reaction wasn’t boring to him. He was used to boredom. His eyebrow ever so slightly raised at you, which only pissed you off more.

Without breaking any eye contact, you ripped up your 30 page paper in front of him and slammed it on his desk. Oh boy, he did not know what he was signing up for when he messed with the valedictorian’s perfect GPA.

“Can I help you?” He scoffed.

His apathy was the straw that broke the camel’s back. With your fists balled up, you took a deep breath and let it OUT.

“Is it your mission in life to make everyone miserable? Is it because you got used by your school to become a human weapon? Why the FUCK do you have to be so condescending?! Do you KNOW how hard I worked to be here?! DO YOU?! If you hate people sooo much and you’re always bored by them, why did you take the job here? It’s not like you’re the best of the best! I can name thousands of people who’d be a better teacher for this job than you are… so why do you think you’re hot shit? You’re not… you’re a hurt little boy with some weird complex a-and you’re RUINING everything… so what the fuck is your problem, Kamukura?!”

Holy shit. Your response had him speechless for a brief second. He had to compose himself before staring you down and giving a response. However, you weren’t even CLOSE do being done…

“Your paper was bori-”

“Boring? Yeah, I fucking KNOW! Everything’s boring to you! But I am NOT letting your stubborn ass ruin my perfect GPA, do you understand?! What would capture your attention? Writing my paper on Junko Enoshima? Chiaki Nanami? Ooh I know! How about Hajime Hinata!”

Ouch. The last name really struck a nerve with Izuru. He actually felt a sense of sadness; something he hasn’t felt since he watched Chiaki’s final moments. Kamukura simply walked away, the nerve!

“Oh, you think I’m DONE with you?!”

“Doubtful.” He rolled his eyes, opening the classroom door for you. Huh, weird.

“I’m heading to my office. You can come with or continue your temper tantrum in here until the next class comes.”

You stood in shock for a moment. He was actually inviting you to his office…? I mean, it was in his own weird way, but it counted, right?

He walked in front of you without saying a word, only motioning to the door of his office.

Izuru’s office definitely didn’t fit him. There was a few coffee mugs, packets of chamomile tea, kawaii stuffed animals, a sword, etc. Were these all the gifts his former classmates gave him?

“Sit.”

You did as he said, looking around at everything in awe. Kamukura pulled out a folder than had your last name on it with copies of your old papers. You were utterly shocked he kept up with stuff like that.

“[L/N]. Your final semester here.”

“How did you-?”

“You’re valedictorian. I hear about you wherever I go.”

He… knew stuff about you? You were utterly shocked and dumbfounded. You thought you were just another boring face to him.

“I’ll say this one time and one time only. Your response to your grade impressed me. We both know that never happens.”

“Oh. Sorry, I guess?”

“Don’t apologize. It takes away character.”

You looked at the floor and nodded as Professor Kamukura looked through your folder more. Surprisingly, it earned a few impressed eyebrow raises from him.

“Your papers have no mistakes. They’re merely boring to me. Except for your last one on the ethics of Hope’s Peak. For obvious reasons, I do not have any interest in reading a paper about the school that used me.”

Realization hit you, and you actually felt bad for him. It was the first time you did. You looked at the ground and nodded. Kamukura obviously picked up on your regret, which he rolled his eyes to and tapped on the desk to get your attention.

“Why are you remorseful? It’s just a grade. If you need an A that badly, I’ll change it.”

You shook your head. It nearly knocked him out of his seat in surprise.

“No. It’s because you’re still a person, which everyone forgets about. Including me.”

Your humanization of him really REALLY struck a nerve. But in a good way. The tone in the room shifted to a way more positive one, and you swear you saw his mouth turn into an ever so slight smile.

“Your response… was not what I was expecting, Y/N.”

He used your first name?! You jolted up to stare at him in utter disbelief.

“If you want to go, I won’t keep you.”

You shook your head. Neither of you knew what to say next. However, it seemed you two were truly seeing each other as humans. Not human experiment and student who only cared about her grades, but humans… and tension filled the air. Both of you stood up with Izuru locking his office door and backing you against the wall.

Your heart fluttered so incredibly fast. Just mere moments ago, you were about to square up with your teacher. Now you want nothing more than to hold him. Little did you know he felt the same about you.

His red eyes expressed a hint of worry behind them. You could tell he was concerned about hurting you or pressuring you into this.

With a deep breath, you closed the distance between you two and finally kissed him. You expected him to shove you away and call you boring, but his hands merely cupped your face as he deepened the kiss. You melted into it, completely forgetting that he was the reason you wouldn’t have a perfect GPA. But in that moment, you couldn’t care. You didn’t care that you were passionately kissing your teacher who has no emotion towards anything.

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave?” Kamukura asked, not taking his eyes off your mouth. You could tell he wanted nothing more than you to stay with him.

“I’m sure…”

His mouth slightly widened into the barely visible smile he had before. He smiled into another kiss with you, pushing you up against the wall. Izuru obviously knew what you were thinking, but he didn’t want to make the first move out of respect (consent king). So, you took his hands and moved them down to the dip in your hips. He definitely got the memo.

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

You nodded. The kisses got more rough, but he took his time with caressing your body. You loved the passion he was showing, but God you wanted him to hurry up.

Once he got to your chest, you took your shirt off, giving him an uncovered view of your chest. He was mesmerized by your body. Kamukura pulled you into yet another kiss, but this time it was by grabbing your ass. You were surprised by his strength, but then again, he WAS made to be impossibly strong…

While he was doing his own thing to you, you unbuttoned his shirt and watched it slide down his muscular arms. Holy shit. You weren’t expecting that. You should’ve, but you didn’t.

He softly chuckled, and that surprised both of you. Izuru removed his shirt, pulling you closer. You could feel each other’s body heat. You finally took off your bra and slid your skirt down. He took no time in reaching for your chest and caressing it. Meanwhile, you got his pants off. He led the two of you to his desk…

Kamukura laid you down and kissed down your body until he got to the line of your underwear. With a delicate touch, he took them off and put himself between your thighs, looking up at you with curiosity and lust. You whimpered, and that only made him more crazed.

He gently rubbed a finger up your slit, causing you to whimper yet again. You could see his smile through your half lidded gaze.

Finally he stuck a finger in. You gasped out in pleasure, and he slowly moved it in and out. You grabbed his hair and whimpered again. Fuck it, he couldn’t wait any more.

Kamukura removed his last article of clothing and slowly slid into you. Your hands grasped onto his toned back as your moans got louder with every inch he put in. He looked down at you, putting his hands underneath your back as he began his thrusting.

You heard his soft grunts, making you further crazed. You wrapped his legs around his torso and he sped up. The light of the hallway peeking in through his blinds gave his toned body a beautiful glow, and you were starstruck by it.

In an odd moment of wholesomeness, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead while he harshly thrusted into you. The duality, good lord.

Your whimpers and tightening drove him crazy. He sped up as fast as he could, causing his desk to shake. Even if someone heard you two, neither of you cared because of how good you both felt.

Even though it felt like seconds, moments passed before you tightened around him from finishing, therefore making him cum too. Both of you were unbelievably sweaty from the deed, and you laid on his desk staring at the ceiling.

“I’ll change your grade to an A.”

RAAAA THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVE THINGS IVE EVER WRITTEN, SHOUKD I MAKE A PART TWO…

[soobchwe]

higher than heaven ᯓ 𝚌𝚜𝚋

SFW version of my fic posted here on @heechwe .ᐟ

୨୧ pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 10.3k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst ୨୧ tags: guardian angel!soobin, human!reader, mutual pining ୨୧ synopsis: Soobin, your devoted guardian angel, has one singular purpose in his ethereal existence: to bring your heart's deepest desires to life. Unbeknownst to him, his mere presence fulfills that desire. Yet, the lingering question remains— how can he effectively transform your most intimate dreams into reality? ♬ playlist: iris | nightly, dizzy | yueku, unbreakable | jamie scott, monsters | joan, feel every bit | the ivy, infinitely falling | fly by midnight, kiss my scars | august royals, next to me | peter fenn, hideaway | jacob collier, salvation | gabrielle aplin, magic island | tomorrow x together ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: First fic of 2025! I’d like to thank @lovetaroandtaemin, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, and @xomakara for beta-reading this fic for me, I know it was a quick journey and I appreciate every one of you who followed the story from the beginning to the end 🤍.

The time fills as plastic shot glasses and empty solo cups discarded into trash bags. Some stragglers of the party lay on the couch or floor, but you pass by them with ease. You sigh before Beomgyu stops you with a sharp tug. "Dude, you don't have to help me. You're supposed to be one of my guests!"

"I'm just avoiding the inevitable tomorrow. And if you come into the shelter late because you procrastinated cleaning your own apartment, I may just kill you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, boss.” He rolls his eyes and unfurls the empty bag you had between your hands moments before. You giggle in earnest.

“If I get a single text, Gyu–”

“Why don’t you enjoy the early morning hours of New Year's and get out of here?" He shoves you towards the door of his apartment with an "I love you” to follow you out, determined to do what you swear he won't without your help.

Beomgyu may be your childhood friend, but habits hold on tight with him. It’s clear from the three years he’s worked at your animal shelter. Your parents always said he has good intentions, although he’s brash in decision-making. "The kid just asks for forgiveness more than permission most of the time," your dad would joke, and Beomgyu wouldn’t disagree.

Your parents’ words replay in your head on the walk home. You hear every piece of parental advice with each step on the cobblestones, the clack or your heels accompanying every word. It's customary on New Years to feel the ache of their absence so strongly. Your thoughts of them are as vivid as the pain of their loss. It seems to haunt you more with every year that passes.

One day, you had been tagging new intakes and cleaning food bowls like normal. The next you were receiving the call that your parents had been in a fatal car accident. Every space they inhabited, including the shelter, felt colder, quieter, a little less like home. Even your own house twenty minutes from your job barely felt like your own.

Five years of grief made the pain manageable, but on nights like tonight, it doesn’t feel like you’ve made much progress..

The cold of January accompanies the repetitive emotional and mental cycle you're on. The weather bites with a hard set of teeth, almost more brutal than the traces of sadness you feel in your heart.

You don’t realize amid the somber trek home how close the surrounding shadows are, one of a stranger within an arm’s distance.

Your animals greet you at your door with perky barks and whooshing tails. Mina and Minho, your two tabby cats, seem to be delighted that you’re back, but save the ecstatic greetings for their canine siblings. Key, your senior chihuahua, does what he can energy-wise compared to Bori, your labrador mix.

“Bobo, please,” you beg as she jumps up on you when you kneel at her eye-level. It’s all a mess of slobbering tongue and eager pants with her. Once she’s done, you rub Key between the ears to give him some affection.

Even your hedgehog, Rio, taps against the glass of his enclosure to say hello to you. It’s almost like every pair of animal eyes asks you how the party went and why you left them alone for so long.

You can’t supply them with an answer, because you notice the person-shaped figure at your kitchen counter, silent and clouded in darkness. The sight makes you release a decibel-breaking scream.

You grab an umbrella from the iron wrack near your door and charge to the kitchen, expecting Key and Bori to follow you and bark aggressively at the intruder. They don’t, but they do pad behind you in curiosity at your strange actions.

They barely react at all when you turn on the light in the small kitchen. The new illumination reveals the black-haired stranger dressed in white. He says nothing, but holds a smile of mirth on his face at your line of defense. He's neither scrawny nor muscular, but towers over you to a surreal degree. 

You think you can take him if you have the element of surprise, but with the alcohol still buzzing through your veins, you may lack complete hand-eye coordination. It’s anyone’s guess.

“What do you want? If you’re looking for money, you got the wrong house, buddy.” You say with a steady voice, aiming the sharpest point of the umbrella in his direction.

He smiles wide, pearly teeth and a set of dimples almost blinding you. “I’m Soobin.”

His lack of an answer and warm smile throw you off. It’s definitely not the reaction anyone expects from a burglar. Maybe the guy's intoxication is even greater than yours, enabling him to enter someone's home without permission. No matter the reasons, you don’t release your hold on the umbrella. You stare him down hard despite your shaking hands.

“Well…Soobin…I don’t know what you want, but you’re not gonna find it here.”

“I’m in the exact place I need to be.” He says your name with the same level of warmth that remains in his smile, but your blood runs cold at the fact he is aware of who you are. Was he stalking you? Had he stopped by the animal shelter while you were too busy to make a mental note of him? “Put down the umbrella and we–”

“Get the fuck out of my house, you creep!” You raise the umbrella as high as you can before it falls on his head, shoulders, or any location on his body that will stun him. He knows it’s coming, though.

Soobin somehow materializes right in front of you before you can step forward, taking your wrists gently in one hand to stop you. “There’s no need for that. I’m not here to harm you.”

You struggle in his hold, trying your hardest to release yourself from his grip with all of your might. Then, you freeze, unsure of how both his speed and his lack of alarm to your furry animals makes any logical sense.

Soobin senses your lack of effort to go through with your attack and lets go of you, taking a small breath of air. “Will you drop the umbrella?”

“Once you tell me what you are,” you whisper. “My dogs would have ripped off your ankles by now, but they didn’t. Why?”

Soobin chuckles, but you feel anything but humorous. “The why to that question is a bit hard to explain. But I can tell you why I’m here.” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly bashful. “Let’s just say I have a mission to complete.”

Soobin sits at one end of the couch, hands in his lap, while you sit on the other. Your dogs lay at the edge of the couch, snoring peacefully now that the chaos is over. Your knees sit tight against your chest, still guarding yourself from him or any potential advances he may make.

You may not think he wants to kill or rob you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re immediately trusting of the stranger. One that is no doubt breathtaking, but still hiding his intentions.

You size him up, still unsure how or why the guy is familiar with you when you’ve never seen him before. He can barely provide you with an adequate answer for the questions that pop into your head.

Where are you from? How do you know me? Have we ever met before?

He chuckles at each one, continuing on with the same reflexive response. “Proprietary information.”

You roll your eyes. “Every time you say that, you sound like some kind of spy.” You move closer to his spot on the couch, looking at him with more intensity than before. 

The analysis makes him laugh even more, his cheeks turning pink. “I’m not an alien, if that was your second guess.”

“That’s not what I was thinking!”

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “You look like you’re about to cut me open with a scalpel.”

Your lips transform into a firm line. “Should I want to, Soobin? Maybe you’re saying you’re not an alien to throw me off.”

“Trust me, I am not an extraterrestrial. Not cool enough.”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation you find yourself in, matching the smile on Soobin’s face with your own. An hour ago, you were about to kill him in self-defense for what you assumed was a classic break-in scenario. Now, you’re laughing with your would-be victim. This has to be the most peculiar first day of the year you’ve ever had.

He claps his hands softly on his white denim jeans. “We should call it a night. You’re probably tired. I can explain more tomorrow, if you’d like.”

You look around your house, unsure where Soobin is planning to stay for the next few hours. The one-bed-and-bath cottage is anything but roomy, most of your space taken up by work supplies or your animals’ stuff.

He senses your trepidation and grins. “Don’t worry, I can come back in the morning.”

You suck in a breath. Most of you feels relief, but there’s a small inkling of sadness that pervades your emotions. You barely know Soobin, but his presence provides a warmth that your home has been missing.

It has to be the last traces of alcohol and the simmering grief still in your system.

“Okay. I have work in the morning, but–”

“I’ll be here before you have to leave,” Soobin cuts you off. He holds his hand out in a goodbye, and you take it. His soft palm meets yours and heats your skin, and you have to cut the parting short to not feel any more flustered.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, love.” He leaves you with one more grin before he exits, confusing you further. 

The touch of his fingertips on you follows you into sleep, his skin the last coherent sensation you have before it all goes black.

There is a murky quality to the dream you find yourself in. You’re surrounded by grey, the color’s opacity fading only partly as the details become clearer.

The room around you looks more like a cavern than a traditional room. It’s made of stone, cavelike and primitive. The entrance to the area is too vast for a normal door. It’s almost as if you could step out and fall into nothing but clouds. The world outside is a mixture of inky blacks and dark blues, signifying nighttime outside the four rocky walls.

You look back to the inside of the space. It holds a desk covered with paperwork and photographs. You’re alone, standing in the center of it all, but too far away from the papers on the table to see any information.

Before you can step closer, Soobin enters with a blonde man hot on his heels. They both walk right through you, seemingly not noticing your presence at all as they continue their discussion. 

They emit their own light somehow, the room nowhere near as dark as when you were alone inside of it.

“If you fail at this, Yeonjun will demote you and have no qualms about doing it.” The blonde man ruffles his hair in frustration, and inches closer to Soobin. They clearly have a close relationship, from the concern on the stranger’s face to the hand that he rests on Soobin's shoulder. “You’ve worked too hard to lose everything, Soobin.”

“I know, Hyuka,” Soobin says in a somber tone, sorting through the papers on his desk. “But she needs me now more than ever. And I know I can help. And if I succeed, I can actually—“

“I get it. We’re just not supposed to get involved unless we’re certain about it. You know this.”

Soobin sighs. “You didn’t see her, Kai. I have to.”

The man named Kai exhales a deep breath and walks away, his pleas seeming to hit a brick wall. The last thing he says, “I hope you know what you’re risking,” barely makes it to your ears. All you notice before Kai’s departure is the unfurling of wings from his back, the white and gray feathers spouting from the tendons just below his shoulders.

You scream when he drops from the entrance, his wings carrying him away. You don’t care if the sound alerts either of the two men, not after witnessing such an unrealistic moment.

You scream again when you hear the unfurling of Soobin’s wings, the sound almost whipping you onto your back from the gust his wings emit. They’re dark grey, larger than Kai’s are. They create such long-casting shadows that you have no question now what Soobin is or where he comes from.

The word replays in your mind as the surrounding scene dematerializes and you wake up with a rapid heartbeat: an angel.

Soobin waits at your door in the same white button-up and jeans he had on the night prior. You welcome him inside, and he looks more ethereal somehow in daylight. 

The dream hits you again with its full force, the image of his grey wings flashing across your memory.

“So, you’re an angel,” You say, filling the space between you both with a new tension. The anxiety only permeates from you; Soobin exudes an air of calm instead, despite your accusation.

He almost ticks his head down in a nod as he responds with the words, “Proprietary information.”

You nod your head and gulp hard. Somehow, the aura around you and the subtext in his expression tells you what you know to be true.

He showed you all you needed to know last night through your dreams, a miraculous loophole to the restrictions placed upon him.

When you’re finally ready to go to work, the morning chores around the house finished before Soobin even made it to your doorstep, you look over at the man in front of you again with trepidation. The white attire may lead to a multitude of questions that you and Soobin cannot answer.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Soobin asks, confused.

You laugh and shake your head, any residual tension from your realization broken. “You look a bit too…uniform for the shelter.”

“Oh! Well…” He blushes, unsure how to respond.

An idea pops into your head when his words come up short. “I may have some old stuff that’ll fit you.”

“Why is the rando wearing your dad’s windbreaker?” Beomgyu asks while cleaning Jin, the newest adoptee at the shelter. His eyes peer over at Soobin filling some food bowls with kibble. Soobin’s presence fills the space the same way it did in your house.

He wears your dad’s long-sleeve shirt, windbreaker, and khaki pants well. Despite his freakishly tall height, the clothes don’t look small on him, and you’re relieved he’s able to fit in like any normal guy with the change in wardrobe.

You scoff, continuing to fill out the documents for Jin’s tag and vaccinations without looking up at your friend. “Soobin’s new in town and lost everything on the plane ride here. He just needed to borrow some stuff until his luggage gets delivered.”

Beomgyu nods, still concerned. He goes back to scrubbing Jin’s coat with the anti-tick shampoo, and you leave his spot at the cleaning station to stand beside Soobin.

“You do this every day? These bags are heavy, even for me.” Soobin grunts and clips the bag closed.

“I usually make Gyu or another volunteer do it. But you saved me the trouble of asking.” You smirk and take two of the bowls in your hands. “Want to help me feed the dogs?”

Soobin’s eyes light up, and he nods. You wonder as you walk to the cages if he’s ever interacted with animals before he left his home in the skies.

Since you were a kid, the shelter has always been a part of your daily regimen. Once college was out of the way, you had a stable job waiting for you to practice your veterinary degree on. While some could only handle so many cat scratches, dog poops, and absurd origin stories, it made every day worth it in your eyes. And the fact that you had a history with tending to furry friends with your parents only made it more worthwhile to continue doing.

The second you open the cages to let the dogs eat, you recognize how natural Soobin is at the job. He talks to them in a childlike voice and rubs their bellies as they munch on kibble and necessary medicines you give in between feeding. Even the dogs with the rougher backgrounds take to Soobin like a bee to honey, the warmth he naturally exudes relaxing them.

He truly is an angel, you realize, and not just in the literal sense.

You lock up the shelter for the day with a lot less weight on your shoulders thanks to Soobin. “I might as well give you the keys to this place. It suits you well,” you joke.

Soobin tucks his hands into his windbreaker, smiling hard. “It just came easy, I guess. Animals aren’t like people. They don’t have to hide behind words. It’s all about energy.”

You look at him as you walk away from the building together, your face softened from his words. “My mom always used to say stuff like that. To her, animals were the bestest friends you could ever ask for. She’d say it’s like they see into your soul.”

Soobin grins. “She seems lovely.”

You swallow hard, balling your hands into fists inside your jacket. It’s not anger that permeates your body now, not the way it used to. All that exists is the reality that their words are simply memories. “She was. My dad too. That place was their second home.” You wave your arm in the direction of the shelter. The building diminishes from view as you round the corner to head home. “And mine, too.”

“Did you envision this being your life?” Soobin asks, the question taking you by surprise. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay!” You laugh. “I mean—I love working with the animals every day, and I have great friends. It just can be very routine sometimes, like there’s this gap that I can’t fill.” You hold back the more intimate details of your desires to Soobin, still guarded and uncertain of being so vulnerable so soon.

He steps closer, the walk becoming more intimate with his shoulder almost brushing yours. “You’ve been alone for quite a while. It’s understandable to want to share your life with someone.”

You blush hard, a mixture of the January cold and his correct assumptions building a steady heat on your cheeks. “That’s what most people want, I guess.”

Eyes widening, you realize now why Soobin may be discussing these things with you. Could his super secret mission, which he discussed the night you met, relate to right now?

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, stopping on the stone street. Soobin only gets a few paces farther than you before he stops.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks, his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth in a small O that you would normally giggle at.

Now, you have no time for humor.

“Did you come here because of the stupid wish I made on New Year’s Eve?”

“Taehyun, if you give me another shot, I will throw up!” You exclaim in a fit of giggles, three drinks already in your system over the last hour and a half. His girlfriend, Kazuha, stands by your side as she downs the shot in her hand, her mouth puckering as she swallows it down. “Zu, I thought you were the DD tonight!”

“Fuck it, I’ll call an Uber.” She winks and chases the shot with a sip of beer. Beomgyu wades through the throng of people in his living room to join all of you in the kitchen.

“Taking shots without me? That’s a party foul.”

“Whatever, man. It’s not like we can’t make more.” Taehyun passes him one filled with tequila to catch up, and Beomgyu downs it in the next second. By the time the buzz of the drinks hits your head, Jungwon barrels into the kitchen with his own girlfriend Yeri to tell you all that the ball is dropping.

Everyone crowds around the television to watch the remaining minute of the year play out. The strangers around you scream out the last seconds, others speak in a drunken lilt.

You turn to your friends, somehow the only person without someone attached to their hip. Beomgyu is holding a random girl's shoulder, while your other friends stand closely together in their respective couples, watching the countdown..

“Four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!” Beomgyu says the words into his date’s neck before kissing her roughly on the lips. Your other friends have their own celebratory make-out sessions. You feel like an intruder as they all enjoy the moment in their respective couples.

You’ve never been a grouch about your single status, not once. But it felt like a part of you was missing out with little of a choice in the matter. Whether by the confines of chance or love simply not being meant for you for the past twenty-seven years, you can only be comfortable for so long before the pain of solitude drains you dry.

Was it so awful to want to find someone to share funny videos with? To talk to about days at the shelter when a cute animal comes in and needs a loving home? When days are heavy on your heart and you need the one you love the most to lift you up and make it all evaporate with a simple “I love you”? To make every struggle and hardship, no matter how big or small, worth it?

And so, with only a drunken mind and heart to listen to your deepest whims, you wish for what seems the most out of reach as your eyes line with tears: a soulmate to bridge the gap between your loneliness and true fulfillment.

When the reality of why Soobin’s here hits you, you can’t help but release one of the loudest laughs you’ve ever emitted before.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” you say with exasperated breaths, all the air in your lungs saved mostly for your laughter. “You came all the way from up there to play matchmaker?”

Soobin chuckles to himself, the sounds that leave his lips a lot quieter than yours. “You make it sound so childish.”

“Can you blame me?” You ask. “I don’t need help in that department!”

Soobin gives you a knowing look, hitting you somewhere deep in the chest. “Then I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“Okay, don’t speak in riddles to me!”

“I’m just stating facts, love.”

You roll your eyes, and Soobin laughs again. “So you’re magically going to find me the perfect partner after only knowing me for 48 hours?”

“I’ve known you for much longer than that.” He steps even closer to you, your fingers brushing his as he stands a few inches from you. “But again, it’s—“

“Proprietary information, I get it,” you whisper. You cough into your fist and glide past him, the moment broken. “Either way, I am just fine with or without a boyfriend, Soobin.”

He follows behind without a word, but you sense his smile without looking at him. Jerk.

Soobin has helped many people in his immortal life. It’s an existence he couldn’t fill in just one book. He’d have to go back centuries to the very moment he started his work as a guardian. His life began long before that, but his true merits came when he started helping those who needed supernatural guidance.

He’s seen from his eagle’s eye view many heartbreaks, losses, successes, and love stories, but nothing as encapsulating as the story of your life.

You were a vision to see the first time you held an animal in your hands, hands tepid but heart full from the creature giving all of its affection to you for you to reciprocate wholeheartedly. He was in awe of you when you stepped across the stage with your degree, eager to put all the knowledge you gained about medicine to a good use. And his ever-still heart ached with yours the second you got that phone call in November five years ago, wanting nothing more than to catch you before your knees hit the tile below.

You’re the one assignment he’s kept too close an eye on, the others in his caseload not holding his focus so strongly. He succumbed to forbidden desires, wishes he knew were unattainable.

But the second he felt your heart break on the one night he knew he could seize the chance to step over the border between Heaven and Earth, he chose the only option that felt right: he had to leave home and heal what needed to be mended inside of you a long time ago.

He watches you help the teenage girl adopting her first pet with immense adoration. 

You check off the supplies needed for Jin and all the vaccines the dog will need moving forward with clinical focus. It’s admirable how dedicated you are to your work, not caring if it went beyond the bounds of a traditional work-life balance.

And when you wave the teenager and her parents out the door and turn to him with a signature eye-roll, he can’t stop the way his skin heats. Your gaze in his direction screams: How long are you going to keep pestering me?

Forever, he says to himself with a hell of a lot of hope.

When you’re both alone in the shelter, one hour after you’re closed for the day, you sweep the floors in a huff. “I am telling you I do not need you to play matchmaker for me.”

“You keep saying that and yet I’m still here, love,” Soobin tuts, flipping through the magazine on top of your desk. He sits at the chair opposite from the receptionist counter so casually, feet crossed and casual despite his heart yearning to explain everything to you.

I’m here because I can’t take any more of your pain. Because someone deserves to know how special you are. Because I—

“I can find a date without your help. Beomgyu already took up that role a long time ago. He’s been pestering me about going out with his friend Heeseung for months. So there.” You stick your tongue out at him and continue sweeping.

Soobin chuckles to himself and flips to another page of the magazine, but he can’t deny how his focus remains on you, the center of his attention, for longer than he expected.

“Lee Heeseung, twenty-two. Works at the ramen shop downtown. Entirely incompatible with you. Just for your information.”

You stop sweeping and aim an accusatory eye at him. “And that’s not proprietary information how?”

“I’m not looking out for him. And that only took a couple of Google searches to figure out, love.”

By the time you lock up the store, Soobin is in the habit of checking the door behind you to make sure you didn’t miss the back door or forget to close the play-gate on the way out. Two weeks of observing your routine up close has given him incredible intel, and not just into your schedule.

“Let’s walk past downtown,” Soobin suggests, taking your hand and walking through a new pattern of alleyways and cobblestone paths. 

You’re unsure why this route that adds another ten minutes to your walk is worth the trouble, but you take his advice, anyway. He’s your angel for a reason, after all.

“Soobin, unless you suddenly got a hankering for human food, we really should—“

You knock into someone’s shoulders hard; the impact sends you to the gravel. Soobin vanishes from view, his name on your tongue the second you recognize that you’re on the ground.

A pair of hands that aren’t Soobin’s, more calloused and robust, lift you up off the ground.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the alleyway.”

A beautiful pair of brown eyes gaze at yours, and it stops you dead in your tracks. The stranger’s brown hair falls over his face in a mess of free curls, some of them tinged with sweat. He wears a baking apron around his waist; flour and, you presume, icing cover his shirt.

You look at the building next to you, the pastel pink sign reading “Gyu’s Baked Goods” beaming over your head. And you turn back to the man in question, the baker himself as his hands keep you sturdy on your scraped feet.

“It’s totally fine. I’m the one who should be sorry. I mean, I wasn’t looking anyway and I—“

“No, you don’t have to apologize. This is what I get for taking a smoke break when I have cupcakes to make, right?” The baker chuckles and releases you. Your heart thumps at a rapid tempo when he holds his hand out to you. “I’m Mingyu. Sorry I’m built like a mountain.”

You chuckle and take his hand, the handshake gentle for the size of his palm. It reminds you of a sturdy fireplace, strong but tender. “Pleased to meet you. Apologies for having the build of a leaf.”

Soobin looks on with a knot in his stomach from an opposite alleyway. The process has begun, and he cannot halt its progress. No matter if he wants to be the one in the human male’s place.

Soobin watches on as Mingyu stands with you by the kennels, acid simmering on his tongue from watching the two of you in such a chummy position.

He clutches the novel in his hands with intense pressure, on the edge of ripping pages between his fingers. For the past week and a half, you and Mingyu have spent time together as new acquaintances, giving Sobbing time to read mortal literature.

He should be happy for you; his initial plan to find someone who fits your life and wishes so well is going perfectly. Yet why does he wish he could rewind time and take it back?

To your pleasure and Soobin’s secret dismay, Mingyu’s surprise gift of homemade mini animal treats made the day an amazing experience for all three of you.

You pay no mind to Soobin’s sudden and off-putting sulking as you show Mingyu around the animal shelter, your new friend interested in your job as much as you’re intrigued by him.

Beomgyu saunters up to Soobin with a bag of kibble in his hands, clicking his tongue. “It’s tough, isn’t it, man?”

Soobin huffs and looks at the younger man, the aura around your friend similar to his back home. If only Kai could see him now, grumbling and pouting like a kicked puppy. 

“What is?”

“Seeing the girl you like with someone else. I mean, she’s pretty great so I get it.”

Soobin rolls his eyes and goes back to the novel in his hands to distract himself. His jaw ticks when he hears your laughter. The sound creates such a beautiful symphony to his ears, but it’s not reserved for him at the moment, and it makes his stomach turn. “You’re wrong.”

“Okay, dude. I get it. None of my business.” Beomgyu lifts the bag over his shoulder and starts walking, but looks back at Soobin with a smirk. “But maybe it might be mutual if you gave it a shot.”

Soobin scoffs at the kid, and then at himself for the split second he entertains the idiot’s idea. Soobin can pine all he wants, but he knows the boundaries. A multitude of reasons prevent this line from ever being crossed.

He may have incredibly powerful feelings for you, but they’re hidden away and unable to reach the light of day. Not just because he has a strategy for you and Mingyu, but he is not an acceptable suitor because he doesn’t belong here, simply put. Earth is only a temporary stay on his list. And when he goes back and reports to Yeonjun of his success, who knows what will happen?

All he knows is that your paths will cross only once in his and your lifetime, and never again.

Soobin almost remains stuck in his misery until you walk up to him with an orange icing-colored dog bone treat in your hands. You hold it out to him with a shy smile. “For you.”

He smirks, taking the snack from you and rotating it between his fingers. “Isn’t this for the dogs, love?”

And the signature eye roll comes, your bottom lip between your teeth as you do it. “They’re organic. Anyone can eat them.” You look back at him directly, suddenly concerned. “You can eat, right?”

He chuckles. Nodding his head, he looks back at the snack. “Just not sure if I’ll like it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Just try it, please?”

Reluctantly, he bites down. Sweet potatoes and carrots, harmoniously blended, flood his mouth. The icing and pinch of cinnamon provides the perfect level of sweetness to round it all out, and Soobin groans. Even the dog treats the guy makes are perfect.

“Okay, it’s pretty great,” Soobin admits, taking another bite. “Even if they’re meant for dogs.”

You laugh and take a tiny corner for yourself. “At least you can say you’ve eaten a dog bone.”

Soobin’s tender smile makes you blush, and it stirs up all the feelings you’ve suppressed when you’re not in his presence. Mingyu’s a welcome distraction from it all. His looks and personality are undeniably attractive, but you always circle back to the angel in your midst.

Who can blame you? He’s ethereal, his magnetism undeniable. But that warmth he’s had from the first day you met is why you can only stay away for so long. He’s a part of your world now, and you can’t imagine that changing in the foreseeable future.

He’s made his place on Earth with you, and you dread the day he has to go back to where he belongs.

The end of January brings the last time for branches to stay vacant of leaves. You notice the small sprouts of leaves amidst the brown limbs as you and Soobin walk back to your house. You bite back a smile, and Soobin comments on it.

It’s like he clenches your heart between his fingers as he says it. “You always hide your excitement like nobody should be watching. Like it’s wrong to be happy about the little things.”

You blush while strolling beside him. “It’s not that I’m hiding it. Maybe I just don’t think anyone will get why I’m happy about certain things.”

Soobin bumps you with his shoulder, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. “Try me.”

You exhale a breath to get your bearings. “Okay, so everyone is always excited about the start of the new year. But then it’s like the excitement dies down and we just go on our merry way until the next holiday comes up. It’s not in the days for me. It’s the environment that always makes me feel the shift, you know?

“Like with animals, almost. The energy is unique, and I feel it when I see the colors and feel the temperature fluctuate.” You shake your head and tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “That may sound stupid, but—“

Soobin stops you on the open sidewalk, taking your hand in his. He looks into your eyes earnestly, wanting you to take his words to heart before he says them. “Nothing you’ve ever said to me is stupid, love. Every thought you have is beautiful because it’s yours.”

Like the town greenery, something shifts inside of you then. Even on the rest of the walk home and the talk over dinner about the day at the shelter, you sense an unfamiliar emotion swirling in the air between you and Soobin. You can’t name it, but it reminds you of the first blooms of spring, brimming with promise.

The first week of February comes in a tidal wave. Many people flood the animal shelter looking for the perfect furry friend to complete their family on the cusp of Valentine’s Day.

All you can hope for is that a majority of them, or at least fifty percent, don’t come back to the shelter after the holiday is over to return the animals looking for forever homes. 

That was the one thing that bugged you the most about this job: biting your tongue at the obvious lack of responsibility people put into owning pets.

It holds more weight than anyone knows, bringing another being in your home to tend to like a child. The only difference is that many of them have histories that deserve more care than normal, and some don’t want to put in the right amount of effort.

You sit on these thoughts as Soobin holds the newest cat to the shelter in his hands. “Have you thought of a name for Mr. Cat yet?” Soobin inspects the spot near the cat’s tail. “Or Missus?”

You giggle and grab the clipboard with the cat’s information on it. “He’s a he, Soob. You can come up with a name.”

He ponders the choices, before his smile grows and he presses his nose to the cat’s. “How about Hyuka?” He rubs the back of the cat’s ears tenderly.

You grin at Soobin and brush your fingers over Hyuka’s fur. “I think it’s a perfect fit.”

Soobin looks over at you with bright eyes, his expression transforming into one that feels like the one you held that day so long ago when he called your thoughts beautiful. A question forms on his tongue, but it flits away the second Mingyu walks through the double doors of the animal shelter with a bouquet of daisies.

At least the jerk knows your favorite flowers, Soobin thinks to himself as he walks with Hyuka back to his block in the back room.

You smile at Mingyu and thank him for the flowers, immediately pressing your nose to them to inhale their smell. “They’re amazing, thank you.”

“My buddy Wonwoo is a florist, so don’t thank me too much. I got a discount even though I should’ve paid full price.”

“Can’t beat a couple bucks off.” You set the bundle down on your desk and cross your arms over the countertop. “I take it you’re not just here to deliver flowers?”

Mingyu chuckles and presses a hand to his neck, his toned biceps stretching out his shirt. “Actually, I was going to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s.”

You stumble on your explanation, discussing the closure of the shelter for the holiday. “Well,” Mingyu starts, “I was thinking you could come by for dinner. And I promise it won’t just be me making you taste test cupcakes again.”

You laugh, but the sound falls flat. You had always been the one pining, yearning for the boy you liked to like you back. Being on the other side of the coin was not exactly ideal. “Mingyu, you know I appreciate you and I am flattered, but…”

Soobin.

You’re unsure how to continue, but Mingyu holds a hand up in understanding. “I get it. How about I make you a meal, anyway? Consider it a friend treating a friend for all of her hard work.”

You blush and nod. “I’d like that very much.”

You’re washing dried-up wet food from the cat bowls when Soobin walks up to you, his face red. By the time Mingyu left, you expected Soobin to come back to your side so you could wash the dishes together. You did it yourself, seeing as he took forever to come back. Soobin asks with a tone of authority, “What the hell are you thinking?”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, contemplating. “I’m thinking Hyuka’s chances of getting adopted before Valentine’s is about—“

“You know that wasn’t what I meant, love.” He says the pet name with annoyance as he drops one bowl into the sink next to you. His tone catches you off guard, not expecting to see Soobin angry for the first time like this.

“You asked me what I was thinking, and I’m telling you.”

“Why did you say no to the date?” Soobin asks, his eyes blazing with fury. Something without a name sits below though, you can tell.

“I, technically, didn’t say no. It’s just more friendly than romantic.”

“Do you expect me to find you another soulmate like this?” Soobin drops another dirty plate in the sink for you to clean up. You don’t know if the question is exactly for you or for himself.

The tension sits thickly in the air, the running tap the only sound for a good minute or two. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you respond, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

Your cheekiness makes Soobin chuckle deeply. You missed his laugh, you realize, not hearing the sound in a while. Not since before Mingyu came around. “What am I gonna do with you, love?”

You shrug and go back to washing the bowls, hiding your smile behind soap suds and dishwater.

Soobin’s leg shakes as he sits on your couch, watching the clock on the spot above your door. 10:49 PM. He’s been waiting for hours to welcome you home from your “friendly” date with Mingyu. Admittedly, he’s been waiting since the second you left, the night of Valentine’s Day on the forefront of his brain since he heard the meathead ask you to have dinner.

Minho and Key keep him company, the older animals in your horde understanding and patient while Soobin mopes around. The angel feels as impatient as Bori can be when she has to wait for dinner.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Soobin says to Key, the chihuahua’s overbite hanging almost like a taunt. “I’m not stewing.”

He’s definitely stewing. The animals must be saying to each other, conspiring about what will occur when their mother finally gets home.

And on the cusp of eleven, you walk into the house and unbuckle your heels. You watch Soobin on the couch, his hands fidgeting on his lap. “Have you been sitting there for three hours?” You ask in a cute tone that drives Soobin nuts.

“No, I made the animals dinner.” You set your bag on the iron wrack where your coats lie, and throw your shoes in some corner of the living room before Soobin continues with, “So, how was the date?”

You stride to the mirror, beginning to unclasp the flashy studs in your ears. “It was fine. Nothing special. Just two friends having dinner.”

“That’s all it was? No candles at the table, no romantic music, nothing?”

“Why are you so concerned, Soobin? I went out, I had fun, now I’m home.” Soobin’s not prepared to hear your voice so clipped and direct. Your frustration is usually a mask of humor or concern. Not genuine anger, like right now. You don’t look at him directly, continuing to remove your jewelry as your ire grows.

You try to de-escalate the argument by retreating to the kitchen, but he only follows you there. And moving back into the living doesn’t help either. “Stop following me, Soobin!”

“Stop running away,” he barks back.

“I will when you stop making a big deal out of this.”

“It is a big deal,” he says with a scoff. “And am I not allowed to worry about you and who you’re with?” He asks with a bite that matches your irritation.

“Why are you so concerned if Mingyu’s the person you wanted to set me up with in the first place?”

“Don’t ask me that question,” he whispers. His jaw tightens and his hands clam up, but you don’t give in. If he wants to finish the discussion, then you’ll continue to press him for an answer.

“Why? What kind of ‘proprietary information’ relates to how you feel about this? What does me going out with Mingyu and you being a complete ass about it have anything to do with top-secret intel?”

“I love you, alright?!” He yells, standing stock still as his veins pulse in his head and neck. His hands go to the messy strands of his hair, almost like he feels himself going crazy at his own confession. “I did not mean to, and it’s awful. I can’t give you the life you deserve. Someone like Mingyu or any other human man would be lucky to have you, yet I can barely stomach the thought of someone else getting to touch you in all the ways I wish I could. And it’s driving me insane.”

The confession knocks something loose inside of you, remaining inhibitions be damned if it means now that the feelings Soobin harbors mirror your own without a doubt. 

You step closer to him, the tension almost too much to bear any longer. You press your hands to his neck, and bring him closer until your lips are a mere inch apart. “Nothing and nobody’s stopping you, Soobin.”

He takes a deep breath to hold himself back,  grounding himself so he doesn’t do something that will upend both of your worlds. “You don’t know that, love.”

You chuckle softly. “Maybe not, but I do know that I love you too.”

When you brush his mouth with your own, every being in the universe, heavenly or not, ceases to exist in your mind. It’s only you and Soobin in your own world. You want to kick yourself for taking so long to seize this moment, this kiss, with him. For all of the reasons Soobin supplies as to why it’s wrong for the two of you to be together, this could not feel more right.

Soobin only gives himself a second of separation from you to catch his breath before he dives back in for one, two, three more kisses. He moans eagerly into your mouth. He tugs on the fabric of your dress to occupy his hands, his body hungry for any contact he can get.

Heavens do be damned, if it means he can keep you between his arms and against his lips. 

And when you fall asleep that night in his arms a few hours later, you pray to every god you can name that it never ends.

The expectation of waking up to the warmth of Soobin’s arms and kisses dies when you feel his empty side of the bed. You search the entire house, your dogs padding behind you as you search every corner for him. 

To your terror and slowly breaking heart, he remains to be seen. Soobin is gone like he was never there to begin with, your house flooding with a chill that hits you to the core.

You crawl back into bed alone with tears streaming down your face. The only time you rise is to let the animals eat and use the bathroom. For the rest of the day, you remain in bed like a phantom. Half out of your body, half inside of it to feel every ounce of pain. Each shred of sadness reminds you that you still exist, and the man—angel—that you love is gone.

Yeonjun has his head in his hand when another pair of associates throw Soobin in front of his desk. Soobin put up an intense fight in the resulting scuffle to bring him back to the office above Earth, but he doesn’t regret it. The only thing he regrets is not leaving you with some sort of explanation, even something as little as a minute to tell you he loves you.

“When I approved your descent, I expected you to help your assignment. Not sleep with her.” Yeonjun sighs and reads over the paperwork at his desk. “The guys above me are gonna love this.”

“Jun, please.” Soobin falls down on his scraped knees and raises his hands in a prayer. “Let me just tell her—”

“What else is there to explain? You’ve clearly done enough.”

“I’m begging you—”

“You think I’m going to let you spend another second with her and make me look like an idiot? No.” He slams his hand on the desk. “If you’re lucky, Soobin, all the archangels will do is send you to the second circle of Hell. I’m surprised they’re not reprimanding me as your superior. You broke our greatest oath.”

Do not consort with humans, Soobin reminds himself as tears stream down his face. “I love her, Yeonjun. And you know she loves me. Didn’t I do my job? I found her a soulmate, just like she wished for.”

Yeonjun shakes his head with a sad smirk. “Don’t think you can get around our rules this time, Soobin. I just called you here to tell you the council will see you in the morning. Be grateful they’re giving you a chance to explain yourself.”

The angels that brought Soobin in drag him away to the lower cells of the building. As he’s pushed and pulled through dark hallways, Soobin has barely enough time to come up with a plan to fix what he’s ruined. Barely.

Your dream is almost the same as the one you envisioned months ago, the dark cavern welcoming you like an old friend. The fog of your transition from sleep to dreaming still pervades your senses. You barely have time to make out the details before Soobin has you wrapped in his arms, holding you so tightly that you feel the air knocked out of your lungs. “Thank God it worked.”

You sob immediately when you recognize Soobin’s voice and his arms around you. It’s like a magnet the way you gravitate to one another, not worrying if the dream will last a second or into eternity. You can barely remember the pain of being without him now that he’s in front of you.

You call his name as he kisses the crown of your hair. He backs you into the desk at the far end of the room, lifting you up by the legs to sit on its marble top. He trails his lips down until they meet your own, and he says so tenderly, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up.”

Breaking into a fit of sad laughter, you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m just happy you’re here with me now.” You kiss him again and again, until your lips feel bruised and sore.

Soobin sheds a tear and looks back into the night outside of his office door. “I don’t have long. They’ll bring me back to my cell soon. But I wanted to tell you I love you. And I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“W-Why are you being punished? You did what you were s-supposed to,” you stutter, a mournful knot building in your throat.

“I fell in love with a human when I shouldn’t have,” he answers, another tear welling in his eye. “But it was worth every rule I broke. How could I regret finding my best friend?” Soobin smiles despite the pain that you two share. 

You hiccup into his neck. “When will I see you again?”

“I-I don't know. But I’ll fix this,” he assures you, a steadfast determination in his expression.

“You don’t know that for sure, though,” you cry, heart ripping deeper at the seams with each word. 

“I don’t, but for now, know that I love you. I love you more than my existence allows.” He kisses you one more time as the edges of your dream blur. “It’s only for now, I promise.”

When you wake tangled in the comforter on your bed, the morning sky bleeding through your window, you begin the torture of waiting for the person you love most in the world to come back to you.

TWO MONTHS LATER

For the past seven Fridays since Soobin left, you’ve stayed in and waited for the phone to ring or the doorbell to sound, any way to signify that he hasn’t broken his promise. You don’t bother going into work, trying to find any excuse to stay in the house.

Beomgyu tries to get you out, go on dates, avoid the aching hole in your chest, but he doesn’t understand. None of your friends do. They think he’s left without an explanation like another random asshole would, but they don’t understand how wrong they are.

They’ll never understand you’re waiting for the one who took your heart between his hands and still holds it to this day, even if you can’t see him for now.

For now. The words play in your mind on a loop, the sound of Soobin’s voice as vivid as the day he said them between kisses in your dream. It’s only for now, I promise.

This Friday, you take his words to heart and decide to go out. You walk Key and Bori, the morning sun turning into an afternoon sky clear of clouds. The warmer weather signals winter is giving way to spring, although you can still feel the chill in your bones.

When you bring the dogs back home, you’re still too restless to stay inside, too many memories in the house haunting you with Soobin’s presence.

You walk around the town streets, the memories of those you love the most filling your heart with a solemn nostalgia that edges out the parts of you that are still miserable. You and Beomgyu learning to ride bikes around the animal shelter. Your parents treating you to your first scoop of mint chocolate ice cream after you won gold at your spelling contest. The kiss you shared with Soobin in your living room, and all the kisses that followed.

Each one contains longing for the past, yet offers some hope for making fresh memories in the same spots. And even locations you haven’t discovered yet.

By the second trip around the blocks you know too well, nighttime rears its head. The city lights mark the street names and numbers with a yellow glow, the heavens above pitch black.

Your legs are sluggish, ankles sore from continuing through the world around you without stopping for rest, but no physical excursion compared to the mental expedition you’ve been on today, a microcosm for all of your tangled emotions for the past two months.

 You almost give into the demands of your body when you hear the faintest sound of your name behind you. Turning on shaking limbs, you see the perfect contours and edges of the man you love in crystal clarity. His shoulders heave as his face remains wet with tears, his body on the verge of convulsing from the travel back to you.

Although every muscle strains and screams inside of you, you run towards him with all of your might and crash into his arms. The water on your cheeks mixes with his when your skin touches. He kisses each tear before he reaches your lips, his mouth tasting of salt and peppermint.

“I’m here. I’m here, my love.” He strokes your hair with his hand and runs the other across your back.

“I didn’t get to say I love you too, last time I saw you,” you say, the words tumbling over one another as you try getting them about. You’re crying and mumbling and it all feels incoherent, but you know every sound you emit is true.

Soobin chuckles, and you’re reminded how beautiful the sound of his laughter is. “You never had to say it back, my love. I already knew.”

Your heartbeat is erratic, but it doesn’t distract you from the fact Soobin’s heart seems to beat as well. A strong, even-tempered rhythm, one you’ve never heard before. You look him deep in the eyes, needing to hear the words on his lips. “Are you—“

His voice is still hoarse and tattered, but his smile is like the salve to all of your wounds. “I told you I would come back to you.”

You whimper, another tear escaping from your eyes. “You gave up everything for me? Your immortality, your friends, your—”

He presses a finger to your lips before running it over your cheek, his expression soft. “I completed my mission. And my everything is right here with me.”

You kiss his lips, all the I love you’s not enough to encapsulate every feeling and gift Soobin’s given you since he came into your life. You both may be on Earth, one old and one new human soul linked as one, but you know this is what it means to be higher than even the immensity of heaven.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @biteyoubiteme @jjunbug

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[jinnieboosworld]

Pup Primp Palace

Younghoon x Female Reader

@deoboyznet @a-dream-bookmark @k-labels

Genre: Fluff, Romance

Summary: Every month Younghoon takes his dog bori to a groomer but when his usual groomer closes, he’s forced to go to another groomer by the name of Pup Primp Palace. After a grooming session Younghoon realizes his dog has taken quite the liking to a particular groomer.

Part of The MeetCute Series

Word Count: 3354

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Younghoon stepped out of his car, Bori eagerly trotting at his side, her leash taut as she sniffed the air. The pastel sign of Pup Primp Palace gleamed under the late morning sun, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit apprehensive. After years of sticking to the same groomer, the closure of his regular spot had thrown him into unfamiliar territory.

“Let’s hope this place works out,” he muttered, giving Bori a quick scratch behind her ears before pushing open the door.

The soft chime of the bell was met with a soothing ambiance: gentle lighting, lavender-scented air, and soft instrumental music playing in the background. A shelf by the entrance displayed neatly arranged pet accessories, and the counter was adorned with framed photos of dogs sporting everything from bows to stylish cuts.

“Hi there! Welcome to Pup Primp Palace!”

Younghoon turned to see you—Y/N—standing behind the counter, a warm smile lighting up your face. You wore a simple apron over your casual outfit, your hair tied back in a way that accentuated the kindness in your expression. “What can I do for you today?”

“Uh, I have an appointment for Bori,” Younghoon said, gesturing to the cute dog who was now wagging her tail furiously.

“Bori,” you repeated, crouching down to meet the dog at eye level. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” You extended a hand slowly, letting her sniff before giving her a gentle scratch under the chin.

Younghoon was taken aback. Bori wasn’t typically this friendly with strangers, but here she was, leaning into your touch as if she’d known you forever.

“She’s, uh, usually a little shy,” he admitted, watching the interaction with a mix of surprise and relief.

“Well, she’s not shy now,” you said with a chuckle, standing back up. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her. Just fill out this form, and we’ll get started.”

Younghoon nodded, moving to the clipboard you handed him. As he filled out the necessary details, he couldn’t help but glance at you occasionally. There was something calm and grounded in the way you moved, effortlessly handling a Yorkie in the background while chatting with another client.

“Alright,” you said, stepping out from behind the counter and taking Bori’s leash. “We’ll call you when she’s ready. Should be about an hour.”

“Got it,” Younghoon replied, feeling an odd pang of hesitation as he handed her over. Bori, however, didn’t share his reluctance, happily following you to the back like she’d found a new best friend.

When Younghoon returned an hour later, the first thing he noticed was Bori’s coat gleaming like never before. Her trimmed fur was impossibly soft, and the pink bow on her collar was a cute, unexpected touch.

“Wow,” Younghoon said, crouching to greet his dog. “You look amazing, Bori. They really outdid themselves.”

“She’s an angel,” your voice chimed in from behind him. “Super well-behaved. You’re lucky.”

Younghoon stood, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, the air between you felt different. It wasn’t just a polite exchange—it was something warmer, something that made his heart skip a beat.

“She’s lucky to have you taking care of her,” he said, smiling back.

You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Well, she makes it easy. And I think she might already be planning her next visit.”

As if on cue, Bori looked up at you and wagged her tail, clearly smitten.

“Looks like it,” Younghoon agreed, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the way you interacted with his dog—and with him.

As he left the salon, Bori trotting happily beside him, Younghoon found himself glancing back at the window, where you were already preparing for your next client. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about today felt different.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿��‧ ˚ ₊⊹

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Younghoon hadn’t expected to feel nervous walking back into Pup Primp Palace a month later. It was just a dog grooming appointment, after all—routine. But as he pushed open the door and heard the familiar chime, his pulse quickened, and he caught himself scanning the room for you.

You were there, of course, standing by the front desk with your back turned as you jotted something down. It wasn’t until you turned and caught sight of him that he felt the nerves subside, replaced by a warmth he couldn’t quite explain.

“Hey, Bori!” you greeted with a grin, crouching down to greet the excited pup. “Back for another spa day, huh?”

Younghoon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s been acting like she owns the place ever since the last visit. I think you spoiled her.”

“She deserves it,” you said, scratching Bori’s ears affectionately. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

As you straightened up, you caught Younghoon’s eye, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt a little heavier, a little more charged than last time. He thought about saying something—anything—but before he could, you stepped behind the counter to grab the clipboard.

“Same routine as last time?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, still trying to shake off the odd flutter in his chest. “Whatever magic you worked before, just do that again.”

You laughed, a soft sound that made his lips twitch into a smile. “Got it. Bori’s in good hands.”

He handed over the leash, and just like the first time, Bori followed you without hesitation, wagging her tail like she’d been reunited with an old friend. Younghoon watched until you disappeared into the back, feeling a strange sense of contentment.

The hour passed slower than it should have. Younghoon found himself checking the time repeatedly, then wandering into a nearby café to wait. He ordered a latte and sat by the window, scrolling aimlessly through his phone but not really absorbing anything.

His mind kept drifting back to you—how effortlessly you’d connected with Bori, how your smile had lingered just a little longer than he expected. He wasn’t sure why he was overthinking a simple grooming appointment, but something about you had planted itself firmly in his thoughts.

By the time the hour was up, he was already back at the salon, leaning against the counter as he waited.

“Here she is!”

Your voice drew his attention, and he straightened as you emerged from the back, holding Bori, who looked as pristine as ever. Her coat gleamed, her little paws perfectly trimmed, and she even had a new pink bandana tied around her neck.

“You really go all out,” Younghoon said, smiling as he crouched to greet his dog. “She looks amazing.”

“It’s all her,” you said, watching fondly as Bori nuzzled into his hand. “She’s got such a sweet personality—it makes the job easy.”

Younghoon glanced up at you, his smile softening. “I think you might be her favorite person now. She barely wags her tail like this at home.”

You laughed, leaning against the counter. “What can I say? I’ve got a way with dogs.”

“I noticed,” he said, standing up again. “Maybe I should book myself in for a grooming. You know, see if I walk out looking half as good as she does.”

The joke slipped out before he could stop himself, and he immediately regretted it. But to his relief, you laughed, shaking your head.

“I don’t know if I’ve got the skills for that,” you teased, crossing your arms. “But hey, if you want to come by for a bandana, I could probably make that work.”

Younghoon felt his face flush, but he managed to laugh along with you. He wasn’t used to this—flirting, or whatever this was. But it felt easy with you, natural in a way that caught him off guard.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice softer now.

As he paid for the appointment and gathered Bori’s leash, he hesitated for a moment, glancing at you. There was something he wanted to say, something just on the tip of his tongue. But before he could find the words, you beat him to it.

“See you next time?” you asked, your smile warm and genuine.

“Yeah,” he said, feeling that odd flutter again. “Definitely.”

And as he walked out of Pup Primp Palace with Bori trotting happily beside him, Younghoon realized that he was already looking forward to the next visit—maybe even more than his dog was.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few weeks later, Younghoon found himself back at Pup Primp Palace. If he was honest with himself, he’d probably scheduled Bori’s appointment a little sooner than necessary. It wasn’t like she needed grooming again so soon—her coat was still sleek and shiny from her last visit. But when he checked the calendar and realized how long it had been since he’d seen you, he shrugged off the self-awareness and dialed the shop’s number.

Now, as he walked into the salon with Bori at his side, he felt a twinge of nervous excitement. He knew it wasn’t just about his dog anymore.

You were at the front desk again, sorting through paperwork, and the sight of you brought an involuntary smile to his face. You looked up when the chime above the door rang, your expression lighting up the way it always did when you saw Bori.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite client,” you said, crouching down to greet the dog. “Hi, Bori! Did you miss me?”

Bori wagged her tail furiously, leaning into your touch, and Younghoon couldn’t help but laugh. “I think the real question is, do you ever miss her?”

You stood up, grinning at him. “Of course I do. She’s my best customer. You’re just the guy who drives her here.”

“Ouch,” Younghoon said, feigning a wounded expression. “I see how it is. Bori gets all the credit.”

You laughed, and the sound of it eased some of the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying. “All right, let’s get her ready for another spa day. Same as usual?”

“Same as usual,” he confirmed, handing over the leash.

This time, though, when you walked away with Bori, Younghoon didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he lingered near the counter, pretending to scroll through his phone as he tried to figure out how to ask you a question he’d been mulling over for days.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was appropriate—or smart—to ask out someone who groomed his dog. But the connection he felt with you was undeniable, and every time he left the shop, he found himself replaying your conversations in his mind.

After a few minutes, you returned to the front desk, wiping your hands on a towel. “She’s all settled in,” you said. “I’ll give you a call when she’s ready.”

“Actually…” Younghoon began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Actually…?”

“I was just wondering,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, “if you’d, um, ever want to grab a coffee sometime? You know, outside of here. Just… as friends or something.”

For a moment, there was silence, and Younghoon braced himself for rejection. But then your lips curved into a smile, soft and a little surprised.

“Coffee, huh?” you said, crossing your arms. “Is this your way of trying to steal Bori’s spot as my favorite?”

He laughed, relieved that you didn’t seem uncomfortable. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“Hmm,” you said, pretending to consider it. “It might be. But I think I’ll need to do a thorough evaluation before I decide.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his confidence growing. “Does this mean I passed the first round?”

You nodded, leaning against the counter. “Sure. Why not? Coffee sounds nice.”

“Great,” he said, trying not to sound too eager. “I’ll, uh, text you or something to figure out a time?”

You grabbed a business card from the counter and handed it to him, your smile widening. “Here. Now you’ve got my number.”

As Younghoon left the shop, his heart was lighter than it had been in weeks. It wasn’t a date—not officially, anyway. But it was a start. And as he thought about your laugh, your smile, and the way you made him feel at ease, he couldn’t help but think it was the start of something good.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Younghoon couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous about something as simple as coffee. It wasn’t even a date—he’d made sure to keep the invitation casual. But as he stood outside the little café where you’d agreed to meet, adjusting the collar of his jacket for the fifth time, it definitely felt like a date.

He spotted you through the glass window first. You were already seated at a table by the window, scrolling through your phone with a calm ease that made him feel even more self-conscious. You weren’t trying too hard, yet you looked effortlessly charming, wearing a simple sweater that complemented the soft glow of the late afternoon light streaming in.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside and walked toward you. The moment you looked up and smiled, his nerves eased just a little.

“You made it,” you said, standing up briefly to greet him. “I was starting to think Bori might’ve convinced you to stay home.”

He laughed, pulling out a chair to sit across from you. “She tried, but I told her I’d make it up to her later. Maybe an extra-long walk or something.”

“Good,” you said, your lips curving into a grin. “Because if you bailed, I might’ve had to demote you from favorite human status.”

“You’re already ranking me?” he teased.

“Oh, definitely. But don’t worry. You’re doing pretty well so far.”

The conversation flowed easily from there. You talked about everything from funny stories about clients at the shop to your shared love for dogs. Younghoon found himself relaxing more with every word, marveling at how natural it felt to talk to you.

At some point, the conversation turned to Bori.

“She really does love you,” he said, stirring his latte absently. “I mean, I’ve never seen her take to anyone like that before. It’s a little unfair, honestly. I’ve had her for years, and you win her over in, what, ten minutes?”

You laughed, setting your mug down. “Dogs just have good instincts. Maybe she knows I’m a good person.”

“She’s definitely onto something,” he said, the words slipping out before he could think better of them.

You paused for a moment, your expression softening. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

“It’s just the truth,” he said, shrugging.

The moment hung in the air, a subtle shift that neither of you acknowledged directly but both of you felt.

“So,” you said, breaking the tension with a smile, “what made you pick Pup Primp Palace anyway? Aside from the fact that your usual place closed, I mean.”

He hesitated, considering how much he wanted to admit. “Honestly? It was the name. It just sounded… fun. Like a place where people really care about dogs.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you said, chuckling. “We do. And I’m glad you found us. I think Bori’s glad, too.”

“Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes. “So am I.”

The two of you fell into another easy rhythm of conversation, laughing over shared stories and teasing each other like old friends. But underneath it all, Younghoon couldn’t ignore the growing feeling in his chest—a quiet, steady warmth that had been missing for a long time.

When the coffee shop began to fill up with the after-work crowd, you glanced at your watch and sighed. “I should probably get going soon. Early shift tomorrow.”

Younghoon nodded, though he felt a pang of disappointment. “Right. Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from Bori’s next spa day.”

You laughed, standing up and gathering your things. “Thanks for the coffee, Younghoon. I had a really nice time.”

“Me too,” he said, rising to meet you. “We should do this again sometime.”

You paused, your smile turning a little shy. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As you walked out of the café and waved goodbye, Younghoon stood there for a moment, replaying the conversation in his mind. He knew it was still too early to tell where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was on the right path.

And as he headed home to Bori, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Younghoon wasn’t sure what to expect the next time he brought Bori to Pup Primp Palace. After your coffee meeting, there had been a subtle shift between the two of you—something neither of you outright addressed, but it was there nonetheless. A lingering warmth in the way you smiled at him. A quiet understanding in the way he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about you.

As he walked through the doors with Bori trotting happily beside him, he spotted you almost immediately. You were at the front desk, talking to a coworker, but the moment your eyes met his, your face lit up with a smile that made his chest tighten.

“Bori!” you called out, crouching down as his dog rushed to greet you. “There’s my favorite little spa guest.”

Younghoon chuckled, watching as Bori wagged her tail so hard it looked like she might take off. “I think she’s more excited to see you than she is for the grooming.”

“Can you blame her?” you teased, scratching behind Bori’s ears. “She knows she’s about to get the VIP treatment.”

You straightened up, brushing stray dog hair off your apron. “How have you two been? It feels like it’s been forever.”

“It’s only been a month,” he said, grinning. “But we’re good. She’s been demanding extra walks lately, though. I think she’s getting spoiled.”

“Sounds like she knows what she deserves,” you said, flashing him a playful look.

The easy banter between you was comforting, even as Younghoon’s mind raced with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring himself to. He watched as you led Bori to the back, chatting with her like she was an old friend, and he felt a pang of something unfamiliar—something that felt a lot like longing.

He waited in the lobby, flipping through a magazine but barely registering the words on the page. His thoughts kept drifting back to you. How you had laughed over coffee. How natural it felt to be around you. How, even now, just the sound of your voice seemed to brighten his day.

When you finally returned with Bori, freshly groomed and looking impossibly fluffy, he couldn’t help but smile. “Wow, you really outdid yourself this time,” he said, kneeling to pet her.

“She’s a star,” you said, grinning. “And she knows it.”

As he stood up, he hesitated for a moment, then glanced at you. “Hey, um… I was wondering if you’d want to do something again. Outside of, you know, this.”

You blinked, caught off guard, but your smile didn’t waver. “Like another coffee?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Or something else. Whatever you want. No pressure, of course. I just… I had a really nice time last time.”

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment, and then your smile softened. “I’d like that.”

His heart soared, but he tried to play it cool, nodding casually. “Great. Maybe next week?”

“Next week sounds perfect,” you said, handing him Bori’s leash.

As he walked out of the shop, Bori trotting happily by his side, Younghoon couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. For the first time in a long time, things felt like they were falling into place.

And as he glanced down at Bori, who was already angling for another treat, he chuckled to himself. “You’re really the best wingman, you know that?”

Bori wagged her tail in agreement, and Younghoon couldn’t help but feel grateful—not just for his loyal companion, but for the unexpected connection that had begun to blossom.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[clonedchaos]

𝔐𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰- 𝔇𝔞𝔶 6: 𝔇𝔯𝔬𝔭

Summary:

A few things seem to carry over with each cycle. For Henry, the fear of plunging into dark depths was one of them.

Rating: G/PG

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

“Let’s hope Allison and Tom are near the bunker this time,” Audrey chuckled, papers nestled in the crook of her arm.

Henry strode next to her at a leisurely pace. When was the last time he had done this? To merely take his time with no fear of danger closing in behind him— well, for the most part. Many things had changed ever since Audrey had come to the cycle, many good things. And they’d continue working hard to keep things growing and improving. 

First thing on the bulletin of course of action today- Bring some files from the Gent building to Allison and Tom’s bunker for examination and safe keeping.

“I wouldn’t mind missing Tom’s sour snout so early in the morning,” Henry remarked lightly, carrying two cups of steaming, black coffee.

“Oh, come now, Henry. He’s not that bad,” Audrey glanced over with a smile before taking a right at the fork in the hallway. “He’s just a bit… stone-cold. Like my brother.”

Henry grunted in agreement. Sometimes he couldn’t quite grasp that the Ink Demon-- and by extension, Bendy-- was related by blood to Audrey. They quite factually couldn’t be any different from each other than they already were. But Audrey had seemed to make some form of progress with him, as did Henry. It was a nice change not to be stalked everywhere he went— except, of course, when the Ink Demon found it necessary to tease him. Henry hadn’t been sent back to the Dark Puddles for quite some time; not an experience he fondly missed.

“If I recall correctly, it’s just past these doors and we’ll take the elevator down towards the bunker’s level. Spotting it is always a fun game,” Audrey instructed, side stepping a hole in the flooring.

“We can thank Heidi for that,” Henry acknowledged. They headed past a set of double doors and reached the elevator. Audrey pressed the call button and the two waited in comfortable silence. The only sound came from the creaking gears of the elevator as it rose from the floor below. The doors slid open with a ding!

It was in a far better shape than the older models he had come across in the studio. Audrey stepped in, coaxing Henry to follow suit. The doors slid shut. They were cornered in on every angle. It was a tight fit and impossible to see outside as they began to descend.

His heart suddenly began to pound like a bird fluttering restlessly in its cage. Sweat beaded on his brow. With a trembling hand, he reached up and wiped it away.

The world seemed to drip away like a melting oil painting. He was falling, falling fast. A pit formed in his stomach. How far down did this studio go? Boris was there, huddling against him with his head in his hands. Over the screeching of gears and acrid tang of metal, Henry could faintly hear the wolf whimpering in fear.

Henry reached for him and wrapped an arm protectively around his shoulders. He would protect him, now and after the crash— if they survive. “Boris, look at me!” Boris kept his head in his gloves.

”You’re gonna be okay, Henry!” A voice echoed. Henry chanced a look around. That didn’t sound like Alice.

Then, the impact sent them sprawling onto the floor. Henry hit his head against metal. The immense pain was brief before he passed out.

When his vision finally came too, Boris was shaking him. He groaned. His head was pounding. Ink rolled down from his forehead, obscuring most of his vision in his right eye.

A figure approached. No, he’s been here before. Over and over again this had happened— hadn’t it?

Henry shakily reached up and clutched Boris’s arm. He tried to speak, but the pain was too great. Then, Boris was wrenched from his hand and dragged into the darkness. He wanted to scream, to fight back. But he couldn’t make a sound.

”Henry! Henry!” As he laid his head against the ground, that voice sounded in his ears as clear as day. Perhaps his swimming vision was making him delusional…

”Henry! I’m here!”

He closed his eyes and opened them again. He was with Audrey now, the coffee mugs lying shattered in pieces across the grated floors. The young woman stood before him, brows furrowed in worry. With a hand, she turned and repetitively pressed the button to open the sliding doors.

He couldn’t breathe, he was suffocating. He clawed at his chest. What was wrong with him?

The doors finally opened. Audrey set gentle hands on his shoulders and steered him out and over towards a wall in the hallway. She then sat him down and moved to sit across from him.

”Henry, focus on me. Breathe.” She took a deep breath and let it out. She repeated the action continuously until Henry forced himself to catch on.

His chest gradually eased, and his limbs slackened and lost their tension. He focused on Audrey and her breathing exercise until he could breathe normally again.

”Is there anything you need?” She asked softly, golden eyes scanning his features.

”Water, please,” Henry croaked. His throat was dry, and his hands were still a bit clammy. His stomach churned, an unwelcome effect of a sudden onset of nausea.

Audrey reached into her satchel and pulled out a canister of the liquid bliss. She handed it over and Henry began to involuntarily chug it.

”Feeling a little better?” Audrey asked as he handed the empty canister back over to her.

”A little. Thank you, Audrey… I don’t know what came over me…” Henry murmured and ran a hand through his hair. Those thoughts, they were nothing but a distant memory of past cycles. Boris was safe now, spending most of his time hanging around Heidi or a Lost One named Dot.

"What's important is that you're okay now." Audrey gave a thin smile. "I had a friend at work do the same for me once. I got too overwhelmed with deadlines and started to panic. It's thanks to her I know how to deal with sudden attacks such as this."

"I'm sorry," Henry apologized. He was supposed to be the level-headed one around here. Audrey had enough on her plate as it was.

"Don't apologize," Audrey shook her head with sympathetic intonation. "We'll be here to help you get your bearings if you ever need it, Henry. For now... why don't we take the stairs?"

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑶𝒏𝒆

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: Don't expect fast updates, my life is so chaotic right now. But I am committed to this story, and I hope you stick around. Also, the plot has changed somewhat, and just out of pure respect, I have removed the inclusion of Sika. And I know this chapter doesn't have that much of Roman in it, but the next one will. It will be a slow burn so... yeahhh. Enjoy!

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92

(let me know if you want to be tagged in future Roman fics)

“Nate, are you almost ready?”

Natalka stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at her own reflection as she attempted to adjust the straps on her dress. She hated when they weren’t tight; she loved when her chest was given that extra bit of support. Besides, it wasn’t like the view was displeasing. 

“Just a minute, Kat,” Nate replied steadily. She took a deep breath and smoothed down the fabric of her crimson dress. A sort of soothing gesture to ease her mind. There were so many things she would rather be doing tonight, but alas, she was a Volkov. She must adhere. She must… do whatever her fucking father asks of her.

The dress was stunning, she had to admit. Not that it was her choice to wear it. No, this was a forced event. And in a futile attempt to convince her father that she should wear black, or literally any other colour, she pleaded the case of the red clashing with the green of her eyes. Too Christmassy. But nope. Dimitri Volkov had spoken. Thus, Nate was to wear this tight, restrictive mess of a dress.

Meh, it could be worse. She could be blonde and risk looking like one of the obnoxious contestants on Love Island or some shit like that.

Behind her, Katya slipped through the crack in the door, eyes wide and blue with concern. At 20, she was a picture of youthful naivety. The ashy blonde of her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, but a few strands flew loose. She must have been studying again.

Unlike Nate, Katya had been sheltered from the darker aspects of their family’s dealings and the older sister had done everything in her power to keep it that way.

“You look beautiful,” Katya said with a soft smile, though it failed to reach her eyes. A few seconds of sustained eye contact told her everything. “You’re not happy about tonight, are you?”

Nate turned to face her sister head on, forcing a smile with tight lips. “It’s just another event, Kat. Nothing we haven’t been through before.”

“But this one feels weird,” she sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Boris is… weird,” Katya murmured with an exaggerated shudder.

Nate stifled a small chuckle at her sister’s clear disdain for the man in question, but she couldn’t ignore the tightening in her stomach at the mere thought of him.

“I can handle Boris,” Nate said firmly, running a hand through her dark hair. “I promise you right now, I won’t let him or any other arsehole dictate my life.”

Their moment was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by the imposing figure of Dimitri Volkov entering the room. His presence commanded attention, even the attention of his own daughters; 6ft 1”, broad-shouldered, with an aura of ruthless authority. His greying hair and eyes that pierced sharper than the blue in Katya’s gave him an air of cold calculation. Nate wasn’t necessarily scared of him, she just… knew it was wiser to go along with his plans. Easier, even. Whatever got her into the least amount of trouble, though even that was a struggle. The same couldn’t be said for the youngest Volkov.

“Natalka, you look… acceptable,” Dimitri remarked, his tone characteristically devoid of warmth. “Boris will be here shortly. I expect you to be on your best behaviour, dorogoy.”

Nate bristled at his words but maintained a neutral expression. “Of course, Papa. I know what’s expected…”

Dimitri’s gaze shifted to Katya, who shrank back slightly under his scrutiny. “You should join us tonight. It’s time you start understanding the family business.”

Nate’s eyes flashed with protective anger. “Um, Katya is not involved in this. She’s still in college!”

“You were 16.”

“Not the point, though, is it?” she muttered under her breath, folding her arms.

Dimitri’s eyes narrowed, taking a step towards her. “She’s a Volkov, no?” His voice lowered, allowing the Slavic roll of his accent to translate more menacing—a tone Nate was accustomed to, but not immune against. “It’s time she starts acting like one.”

Whether it was the way she was dressed, or the anger about the night’s upcoming events, Nate somehow had the audacity to take her own step towards her father, chin lifting in defiance. “I said, she’s not involved.”

For a moment, the tension in Nate’s small bathroom became tar-thick. A silent battle of wills. Nate’s eyebrow tugged up, as if challenging Dimitri’s stance. It may have been risky, but she really wasn’t in the mood to be fucked around with tonight.

Finally, Dimitri gave a curt nod, though his eyes held a warning. “Very well… But remember, Natalka,” he backed his daughter into the counter behind her, placing one hand on the marble surface. “You have responsibilities. To the family. And the future.” Nate caught the potent scent of his most recent cigar, her head retreating in an instinctual response.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and made his exit, neglecting to acknowledge Katya’s presence in the process. Nate let out a heavy breath she hadn’t realised she was holding until now.

“Are you okay?” Katya softly asked. It was always a stark contrast when engaging in conversation with her family; her father had the thickest of Russian accents, whilst Katya mirrored her own: a gentle British with the occasional inclusion of Russian phrasing.

Another forced smile, though it felt like a heavy leather mask, Nate nodded. “I’m fine, Katty. Just… stay out of sight tonight, alright?”

Katya nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Just… please be careful, Nate.” She stepped forward and engulfed her older sister in a tight embrace, her forehead resting on Nate’s shoulder. They weren’t usually too different in height, but Nate’s heels made her much taller in this instance.

“‘Kay,” Nate had to break up the hug, otherwise she’d manage to convince herself to blow this whole thing off. It was far more preferable to stay at home with her baby sister and binge watch crap on Netflix—hell, just to wear anything but this fucking dress would be bliss.

Nate watched her sister leave, feeling a strong pang of guilt. She wanted to protect Katya from the harsh realities of their world, but it was becoming increasingly difficult the older she got. Dimitri wasn’t much help; it seemed like his life goal was to keep their empire as sturdy as possible, as powerful as possible. As if it wasn’t already the pinnacle of New York City’s underground rings.

Boris arrived promptly, as unsettling of a presence as usual. He greeted Dimitri with a firm handshake and a smirk that made Nate want to punch him in his pretty little face. No, she wasn’t an idiot; Boris was charming, chiselled, ridiculously refined and on par with obsessively perfect. But that didn’t change how badly she wished he’d be thrown in the Hudson with a healthy dose of bricks.

Boris Sokolov, a man who had been a fixture in their lives for as long as she could remember. He was Dimitri’s chosen one. The man her father insisted she marry to solidify their family’s power, and in turn introduce his family to how their family worked. He was a little shit when they were growing up, and he remained a little shit in adulthood.

His eyes rolled over Nate as she descended the staircase in the Volkov’s foyer, a complete showcase of undisguised interest.

“Natalka, detka, you look stunning,” Boris said, stepping closer to peck her cheek and take her hand in his. “Shall we?”

Just kill me, kill me now.

She compelled herself to preserve her emotions, but made sure to withdraw her hand from his grasp as politely as possible. “Thank you. Let’s get this over with.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The venue for the night was a breathtaking display of wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their light reflecting off the polished marble floors. The walls were adorned with intricate gold-leaf mouldings and tapestries depicting scenes from various cultures: from Russian folklore, to Italian battles of will. Every detail screamed opulence and luxury.

The guests, an assortment of the city’s elite and underworld figures, moved about the room in their elaborate suits and designer gowns. A live orchestra played a hauntingly beautiful classic waltz. Waiters in crisp white uniforms glided through the crowd, offering trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

Nate moved through the clusters with practised grace, exchanging pleasantries, making polite conversation, all the while keeping an eye on Boris. For him, he seemed to enjoy parading her around, showcasing her like a prized possession. He kept a avaricious hold on her arm, tightening whenever the two crossed paths with other males.

“Natalka, moy lyubov’, you are the envy of the evening,” Boris whispered in her ear.

With cold eyes, Nate turned to him boldly. “And yet, I feel like a prisoner.”

Boris’ smile faltered, and he leaned in closer, his voice a low growl. “Remember your place, Natalka. You belong to me, remember?”

Her jaw clenched, but she bit her tongue. The more she found herself having to do that, the easier it was getting. But for someone with a mouth so unrelenting, it was always a task. She had to endure this bullshit, for now, at least.

As the night wore on, Nate managed to slip away for a moment of respite. She found herself on a balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. She looked out over the city in the distance, thoughts running a mile a minute. The pressure from Dimitri, Boris’ looming presence… her mother—it all felt like too much.

But she was strong. Of course she was. She was a Volkov. There was no other way to be.

As she savoured the more subdued aura of the balcony, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of murmurs and whispers from guests inside. She turned back towards the entrance of the ballroom, her eyes narrowing as a commanding presence made itself known.

He was an imposing figure, even among the elite gathered tonight, and he strode in with an air of confidence that was impossible to rival. His long, dark hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, emphasising the pristinely groomed facial hair and the fierce intensity in his eyes. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that hugged his powerful frame, accentuating his broad shoulders and muscular build, with the pairing of a crisp white shirt and a black tie.

On his arm was a striking blonde, her golden—clearly fake—tan contrasting with the deep blue of her sequined gown. The dress clung to her curves, the plunging neckline and thigh-high slit exuding a mix of elegance and allure. Her hair cascaded in loose waves, and her make up was flawless. Sharp cheekbones and all. It was clear she was accustomed to being the centre of attention, just by the way she flicked her hair back and kept a tight grip on the arm of the man beside her.

Nate’s assessment of the addition to the party was interrupted by a couple beside her. A slightly older pair that she had seen throughout the years, and knew weren’t a threat to her family. Investors in property more than anything, and their knowledge of the underlying occupation of the Volkovs was void. None the wiser.

“Who is that?” the lady asked, loud enough for Nate to hear her. She didn’t want to interrupt the conversation she was having with her husband, but as soon as he replied with an air of uncertainty, she had to insert herself.

“That’s Roman Reigns,” Nate confirmed quietly. “He’s… significant.” To put it mildly.

“Should we be worried or something?” The husband leaned forwards to look at Nate.

Remembering that she was talking to someone who knew nothing of the ruthless extent some of these people in attendance tonight possessed, she gave the couple a warm smile of reassurance.

“No.”

The blonde at Roman’s side leaned in close, whispering something in his ear that elicited a brief, enigmatic smile. His eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, every person, as if assessing the situation with the precision of a predator. There was a robust tautness in the air as guests subtly shifted their attention toward him, acknowledging his presence with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Roman’s reputation preceded him, and the stories Nate had heard painted a picture of a man who was both feared and respected, at least in their world. He was a master of manipulation and control to some, and a force to be reckoned with.

Nate pulled her attention away from Roman, shifting her focus back to the task at hand. She was here to represent her family, and that meant ensuring the deal with The Judgement Day M.C. went smoothly. As she weaved herself through the crowd, she kept a polite smile on her face, exchanging pleasantries with whoever felt bold enough to approach her. Unfortunately, her responsibilities included having Boris by her side every minute.

Once she found him socialising with another group of young men, he practically glued himself to her, possessively placing his hand on her lower back.

They made their way to a corner of the ballroom where the members of The Judgement Day had gathered. Their president, Rhea, stood out among the group as the only female. Jet black hair styled in a sharp undercut. Eyes intensely scouring the room with an air of boredom and the slightest bit of vigilance. Her intricately embroidered suit contrasted sharply with the more flamboyant outfits of her companions. She exuded a raw, untamed energy, her muscular frame a testament to her strength and dominance.

Beside her stood Damien Priest. Tall, imposing, with a dark, brooding ubiquity. Finn Bálor, the third in the trio, had a more refined appearance. Sharp features, icy blue eyes. An almost ethereal quality. Both men wore suits fit for an event more casual. But that was TJD for you. Never ones to conform.

Nate approached them with Boris, her posture straight and confident. “Rhea,” she greeted. “It’s good to see you.”

Rhea’s gaze flicked to Nate, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Nate Volkov,” she replied with her usual Aussie inflection. “Always a pleasure.”

Boris stepped forward, extending a hand to Rhea. “Boris,” he introduced himself with a firm tone. “We appreciate your cooperation in this matter.” Rhea shook his hand with a strong grip.

“Of course. We’re all invested in seeing this deal succeed.”

“Gentlemen,” Nate offered Damien and Finn a gentle nod, keeping her cadence as professional as possible. “I trust everything is in place for the drop-off tomorrow?”

Damien exchanged a glance with Finn before replying, “Everything’s set. We’ll be handling the drop-off personally, with a group of our best to ensure there are no… complications.”

Finn’s eyes met Nate’s, adding with his Irish brogue, “We’ll make sure it goes off without a hitch.”

Nate nodded, satisfied but naturally still cautious as she was about everything. “Good. We’ll have our people in place as well. You know… just in case.”

Rhea chuckled, folding her arms over her chest loosely. “You worry too much. We’ve got this under control.”

“I have to,” she replied curtly. “In our world, it’s the only way to stay alive.”

Boris’ hand tightened on her waist, his fingers digging in slightly. “Natalka’s right. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

With a colder smile, Rhea flicked her gaze over to Boris. “Everything will go smoothly, Bob.”

Baring her teeth down on her lips, Nate looked down to avoid being caught stifling a laugh at Rhea’s intentional rechristening of Boris. She always did have that audacity, and was possibly the reason they worked well in their professional dealings. 

“It’s Boris,” the man in question grimaced, almost yanking Nate closer to him, as if it would somehow bandage the graze Rhea had inflicted on his bulging ego.

“Right,” Rhea nodded slowly, glancing over at Nate. “Boris.” Damien and Finn snorted like a couple of schoolboys beside their leader, causing Boris to shoot daggers into them. Rhea signalled her hand out in a gesture for them to calm down.

The Judgement Day’s dynamic was always fascinating to Nate. For starters, they were probably the only organised group in New York that had a woman as a leader. They were the only M.C. that had the guts and brains to deal with the uppers in the world of the elite. Damien’s protectiveness over Rhea, the way Finn’s eyes seemed to penetrate everything he laid them on, and Rhea’s own confident brutality. They were just a formidable group of people, and while their alliance was beneficial, it was also fraught with its own set of dangers. Dangers one couldn’t risk igniting.

“Is everything okay?” Rhea asked, tone chirpy. Nate was brought out of her momentary diversion, contriving a smile and nodding. “Just a lot on my mind. You know how it is, Ripley.”

“Well, ya know… if you ever need a chat–”

“I appreciate it,” Nate interrupted firmly. “But I’m fine.” She turned back to Boris, who was watching the interaction with a slight frown, still upset at the way Rhea degraded him. “We should, uh… mingle,” she suggested, hoping to divert his attention.

Boris nodded, the grip on her loosening somewhat. “Da.” 

Relief washed over her as they moved away, though the night was far from over. She had to maintain composure. The opulence of the event, the grandeur of the ballroom, and the intricate social gatherings were all part of the facade. Beneath the shiny exterior, alliances and partnerships were taking place.

But Nate was only human. As good as she was at winning over even the most sceptical of guests, there was only so much socialising she could handle, and found herself breathing a sigh of consolation when she found herself back out on the balcony, once again alone.

Or so she thought.

“Taking a break?”

She turned to see Rhea standing there, a glass of champagne in hand. “Just needed a moment,” she replied, her tone guarded.

“You’re doing great in there. But I can see the, um… strain?”

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot to handle.”

Rhea nodded sympathetically. “I know. You’ve complained about it plenty of times. But you got this, for sure.”

Nate appreciated the words, even if she couldn’t fully trust the source. “Thanks,” she said softly, looking out over the balcony. “No Dom tonight?”

“Nah,” Rhea laughed, resting on the railing beside Nate. “Latino Heat needs space sometimes, ya know?”

“Mysterio needs space.” Nate barked out a laugh.

“‘Ey, he’s a sensitive soul.”

“Sensitive,” she snorted.

“He is.” Rhea was relentlessly defensive of Dom. Everyone knew that. It just so happened that Nate was the only one ballsy enough to challenge it. She knew what it was like to have a tumultuous relationship with a parental figure, but it wasn’t in her nature to seek solace in a relationship with someone who practically controls her every move. Not like Dirty Dominik Mysterio.

“Okay,” Nate chuckled, holding her hands up. “If Mami says so…”

Rhea glanced at Nate. “You heard about that, too, huh?”

“Everyone’s heard about your new little name.”

“Just like everyone’s heard about the plans for you and Mr Bob in there to get married.”

Nate smirked, sighing as she stood up straight. “That’s what everyone’s heard…” She gave her a pointed look, before turning and making her way back into the ballroom. “Good luck with the drop-off tomorrow, Ripley,” she called behind her.

Rhea leaned back against the railings, watching as Nate walked away. 

“Luck? We don’t need luck, Volkov.”

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Factory & Pie 🥧 | Agent K imagine P.2

Part 1 | Masterlist Directory

Characters & Pairings: Agent K x MiB agent!reader (romantic)

Content warnings: fluff, profanity, angst, mentions of death, violence, blood & injury, age gape (read the note in part 1), cannon divergence, suggestive themes, shitty realities women & queer had to go through in the 60s, friends/strangers-to-lovers | female!reader (she/her) | wc 10k

Premise: Getting stuck in 1969 was not ideal. Especially when it means having to be navigate through clues to stop a homicidal manic all while keeping a clueless agent in the dark of what possible future might occur if they fail. And with feelings brewing causing her mind to question everything she's ever known about her relationship with K, Agent Y/I had her work cut out for her.

Note: dialogue and scenes from mib are credit to the original creators, I did add dialogue to the scenes for Y/I's character.

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

1969

The 12th of July

The sweet aroma of coffee and cigarettes woke Y/I the next morning. Eyes opening to a blur of glowing light from the sun entering through the blinds. A long yawn released, Y/I’s arms stretching over her head to comb fingers through her damp hair. Too exhausted to blow-dry it the night before after her shower. It was when her vision cleared that Y/I sat up in a haste, the memory of the previous day coming back to her. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Boris escaped prison. Went back in time to kill K. Her K ceased to exist and now she’s in 1969 to prevent Boris from succeeding. All in the span in 24 hours. 

God she was going to need a fat margarita when this was over.  

Throwing back the covers, Y/I flung herself out of the bed and into the bathroom. Cold water splashed her face, letting out a deep breath before looking at herself in the mirror. The exhaustion was evident in her features, hair wild and untamed, crinkles more pronounced, but hey, that came with aging. 

It took a moment to register that the clothes she wore were not her own. A Rolling Stones shirt and sweatpants belonging to K. ‘Sweet Jesus,’ she scolded herself when the heat returned to her chest, ‘Get it together, Y/I. Stop acting like a giddy school girl--You’re in your 40s for Christ’s sake, not your 20s.’ This was the first time Y/I slept over at K’s, only ever stopping by briefly when they needed weapons or Y/I bringing dinner to make sure the man ate. 

Even the times Y/I was drunk off her ass K made sure to get her home safely. Just another example of him being the best partner in the world. If there was one thing he knew about his partner is she loved her bed more than anything in the world. 

And she was really missing it now. 

Grabbing a comb, mentally praying it was one K used for his hair, Y/I tackled her own as best she could and pulled it into a tidy bun. White-gray sections bright now that the dirt had been washed away from K tackling her at Coney Island. It pained her to not have her hair products but she made do. Come to think of it, she didn’t have anything. Toothbrush, skincare, makeup. What the fuck was she going to do for the next four days? It’s not like she can buy anything. Her credit card was a lost cause.

Exiting the bathroom the smell grew stronger. Bringing a wave of nostalgia as she breathed it in and so she followed it, glancing at the clock to find it was 7:30am. ‘God, you’d think the time travel jet lag would’ve let me get a few extra hours of sleep,’ she frowned.

Walking into the kitchen connected to the living space, Y/I came to an abrupt stop at the scene in front of her. Eyes bulging as they landed on K’s back, clad in a white t-shirt and plaid sweatpants. Toned arms and muscle, flexing each time he moved across the kitchen to grab something. A lone cigarette on an ashtray, releasing smoke from the filter each time K took a drag before putting it back to continue his work.

On the radio the soft tune of The Ronettes played, and Y/I felt herself itching further into the room, eyes still on K as she fought against the weird thoughts she was having.

“Coffee?” His voice snapped her out, the woman clearing her throat before taking claim to a barstool. 

“Yes, thank you.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black, two sugars,” the words flew out naturally, considering it’d been her stable for the last ten years. Any time K got their coffee he tended to get her the same as him, and after a while she became used to it. Occasionally Y/I treated herself to a latte or cappuccino, but nothing kept her energy going like simply black coffee with two sugars. 

She noticed K’s surprised reaction before replacing it with something unreadable. Busy himself by pouring the coffee into two mugs and dropping the sugar cubes in before mixing it up and passing Y/I hers. Thanking him again, she brought the steaming cup to her lips, letting out a sound of content, missing K’s strange expression when he took in her state. Seeing her in his clothes emerged a tingling sensation in his chest. Hiding the blush threatening to paint his cheeks. Y/I gestured to the ashtray, “Got another you can spare for a lady?”

In a flash K produced a cigarette and a lighter, the agent giving an appreciative smile as she took them. Lighting the filter, Y/I let the tobacco enter her system as she took in the apartment, then raised a brow, “Where’s my suit?” She hadn’t seen it since K gave her the spare clothes to sleep in. 

“In the dryer,” he pointed to an ancient machine that made Y/I do a double take. Of course her family had the same growing up, but it still was a shock to see after all these years. “Thought it could use a clean after yesterday.” 

His words had Y/I narrowing her brows, albeit playfully. “I wonder why.” K hid his smirk behind his mug, Y/I mirroring it. “I should be offended you tackled me, but I did ruffle you up so….” She shrugged, blowing out smoke. “I guess we’re even.” 

“I guess so,” K agreed with a chuckle. Reaching over to turn the music down, K leaned against the counter, now looking at Y/I with curiosity. “Where’d you learn how to fight like that anyway?” 

She hadn’t expected that question, placing her mug down while tapping away the ash on the cigarette, “What, trying to get some pointers, cowboy?” The comment made his eyes roll, but smirk still on his lips. “I did martial arts growing up,” she explained, propping an arm on the counter to rest her chin on her knuckles. “Then I had a personal trainer who specialized in hand-to-hand. Came in handy both with MiB and the job I had prior.” That piqued K’s interest, but he decided not to ask. Y/I took another puff, “So, I hate to be that girl….but I need a huge favor.”

K’s face became concerned, clicking his tongue, “Depends on the favor, slick.” 

“You can relax, K, I’m not asking you to steal a galaxy,” her hand waved, “but when I woke up yesterday it was not my plan to be in 1969 nearly a week so I’m gonna need to acquire some,” she waves again, “personal necessities if you will. Like a toothbrush for starters,” Y/I nods for emphasis and continues, “deodorant, perfume, and call me vain if you must, but I need face sunscreen. And some face powder and mascara.”

K thought for a moment, finishing his coffee and cigarette first before saying, “sure thing, slick. Get dressed and we’ll go.” 

Y/I straightened her posture, giving him a look before pointing to the dryer, “with what clothes?” Twenty minutes later the two were in his car, Y/I tugging at the collar of her black & white polka dot dress. “Well this isn’t what I had in mind. I haven’t worn a dress since your 65th birthday party.” The comment resulted in a baffled look from K, not wanting to picture himself at 65 just yet. Y/I held back a laugh, “Sorry, pretty boy. I forgot the most frightening thing for young people is growing up.” She looked at her attire before raising a brow, “Also whose dress was this? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

K’s attention remained on the road, a distant look in his eyes Y/I picked up on, making her regret the question. “A friend of mine left it,” was all he said. And it didn’t take a genius to know it wasn’t exactly a ‘friend’ he was referring to. Y/I understood, leaning back in her seat to stare out the window. 

They arrived at a shopping mall, K moving at a quick pace to open Y/I’s door, making her look at him aghast but accepting his hand. Careful not to trip on the pavement in her heels as she stepped out. 

The outdoor shopping mall was pretty busy for a Wednesday morning. Buzzing with young ladies and college kids. K, the generous man he was--not to mention the circumstances--paid for Y/I’s items. Since it was the 60s all the brands Y/I enjoyed didn’t exist. However she was excited to see Revlon and Besame, grabbing a red lipstick, powder, and mascara. When K questioned her whistle, staring wide-eyed at the prices she said, “Let’s just say the prices for these things in the future are not as sweet. Just these three alone cost me $30.” K returned her expression, making note to not complain anymore about the cost of items. 

Small bag in hand, the two headed to the food court for a bite to eat. “Unfortunately, I can’t pay you back till 2012,” her tone was teasing as he handed her a bagel with cream cheese and coffee, but serious nonetheless. “Hope you can understand.” All K did was chuckle, nodding as he bit into his own bagel. Escorting her to a table, the two sat and enjoyed their breakfast in silence. All while keeping watch for any suspicious activity. 

When they finished, they returned to K’s place just before 10 allowing Y/I time to freshen up. Applying the products instantly made her feel better. Once her teeth were brushed she doused herself in perfume and deodorant before going to retrieve her suit. It was then she remembered the important object in her pocket. Heart dropping slightly at the fear it was gone. Her pace increased. 

“K,” Y/I called out, catching him at the bartop reading the morning paper. His head turned to her as she strolled up to where he sat. “Quick question. I know you said you confiscated everything on me at HQ and well, did you happen to find a pocket watch? If so,” she leaned against the counter, a thin pressed smile plastered on her, “may I have it back, please?”

Her eyes were laser focused on K as he reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out the item igniting a breath of relief from the agent. Happy the watch was safe and back in her hands. Unfortunately the time jump must’ve been too much for the old gadget. The hands frozen in place. Y/I pressed it close to her chest, closing her eyes. 

Inside she was exploding. Heart aching with grief for what life would've been if her dad had stayed. She’d been so young Y/I forgot what he looked like. But she remembered how it felt to be with him. Carefree, happy. Warm like the sun’s rays or the joys of seeing a rainbow. 

She missed that feeling. Deeply. 

When her eyes opened she was met with K’s, watching her gingerly. As if reading his mind Y/I answered his unspoken question, “It was my father’s.” He made an ‘ah’ sound. Soft and empathetic. Brushing a finger over the smooth surface, Y/I’s sighed again. Letting her shoulders drop as she admired the watch. “I’m sorry if I came off harsh I was worried I’d lost it,” she held it up, closer to her face, “It’s the only thing I have left of him.”

“I take it he passed?” K gently asked, holding back his shocked reaction when she shook her head. 

“No, uh,” her throat cleared, the lump forming being forced back where it came. Praying her eyes didn’t show her feelings as she didn’t want to breach this aspect of her personal life with this K just yet. She put on a brave face, “I actually don’t know. He’s just been out of the picture for a while.” What more could she say? It was the truth and all she had. 

Excusing herself, leaving K to his thoughts, Y/I picked up her clean and ironed suit--she made a note to thank him later--and went to the bathroom to change. 

Honestly she should’ve just stayed in the comfortable clothes, because when she re-entered the room K put her on house arrest. Stating, “X is under the impression you were neuralized. If he sees you we’re both screwed.” Okay he had a point there. “I’m trusting you to stay here while I go and try to get as much info as I can. Can you do that?”

Defeated and out of options, Y/I agreed and gave a two-finger salute, watching silently as K left the apartment. Leaving her alone. For the rest of the day she entertained herself with magazines, books from his vast collection, and people watching from the terrace. At one point in her search for a book, Y/I stumbled upon a photo album dated 1960. Covered in dust which she blew off and examined with interest. 

Was it a good idea? Probably not, it felt like an invasion of privacy. K’s past was a mystery despite their long partnership. Each time Y/I attempted to learn more about him the response was, “I promised you the secrets of the universe, Y/I. Not my own.” That same voice was breaching her mind now. 

Curiosity got the better of her, however, and Y/I checked her surroundings before settling on the chair beside the bookcase. Opening the album to get a glimpse at K’s life before MiB.

With each page turn Y/I’s smile widened. Admiring the young man just entering his 20s, not having a clue what lay in store for him. Carefree and optimistic. In a year’s time he’d be stumbling on a scene unworldly, when got lost on the wrong back road. 

As she closed the album shut, Y/I felt an overwhelming sense of grief consume her. So sudden it gave her whiplash, hand coming to her chest where her heart pounded against her ribs. A volcanic eruption of turmoil she’d been holding since discovering K died. Now alone to her thoughts, the agony begging to release finally snapped. Groaning as the tears began to flow.

She sat there crying for what felt like ages but was only ten minutes. Sniffing as she pulled herself together. Her eyes now puffy and red, mascara ruined as the product of the time had yet to discover the wonders of waterproof makeup. Wiping furiously at the tears that dripped onto the album’s cover, destroying any evidence in case K were to go down memory lane in the future. 

Oh, K. How he came to be the most important person in Y/I’s life was one of history’s greatest mysteries. They were complete opposites yet fit together. K kept her grounded, and Y/I brought out a warm side of him. Agents referred to them as an old married couple with how much they bickered and took care of each other. “We’re just great partners,” Y/I always responded with, finding humor in the suggestion and brushing it off as a funny joke. Missing how the agents were actually surprised, having been fully convinced the two were a thing.

Now, with a deep, unfamiliar, emotion swarming inside, Y/I questioned that exact statement. But there was one thing for sure she knew: failure was not an option. She was going to fix the damn timeline and save K. 

Placing the album back in its right place, the agent spent the rest of the day reading 2001: A Space Odyssey, occasionally stepping out on the terrace to smoke so the smell didn’t overpower the apartment. When it got closer to five she explored what K had to offer food wise. As a 29-year-old bachelor working for a secret agency sometimes involving sixteen-hour days, his fridge and pantry definitely showed for it. 

“Gotta make the most of it,” Y/I said to herself, reaching for whatever she could find. Thankfully K had enough to make fettuccine alfredo. Y/I brought a pot of water to a boil, adding the noodles in before getting to work on the sauce. Heating the oil, butter, garlic, and cheese into a pan until it reached the perfect consistency to toss the cooked noodles in. “Thank God,” she cheered upon finding a frozen bag of broccoli in the tiny freezer, quickly steaming it to include in the pasta. 

The agent was in the middle of plating the food right as K walked through the door. Exhaustion painting his features, soon replaced with confusion as he smelled a delicious aroma in the kitchen. 

“Right on time,” Y/I chuckled, shutting off the stove. 

“Right on time for what?” K’s question was answered with a plate of pasta shoved in his hands. Brows furrowed causing the wrinkles in his forehead to become pronounced. 

“Eat,” the order came, spatula waving around but careful not to get any sauce on the man. “If there’s one thing I know about future K is he likes to skip dinner when a case becomes overwhelming. That ain’t happening on my watch.”

Stunned and at a loss for words, K accepted the fork Y/I presented and sat at the bartop. Silently eating the meal while Y/I stood at the counter facing him. The scene was rather domestic, and both agents were battling thoughts in their head at what it meant. For Y/I it was nostalgic. Thinking back to all the times she forced her way into K’s apartment with take out or bags of groceries to cook after long days at the agency. In the beginning he argued with her, told her it wasn’t necessary, but soon learned to enjoy the routine as it went on. 

For the young agent with years ahead of him until he recruits the mysterious yet vibrant woman, K was getting a glimpse into his future. An adventurous, exciting--and sometimes unorthodox--life he’ll live. So far he liked what he saw, confirmed with the feeling of butterflies in his stomach. 

‘Wait, what? Butterflies? Oh no.’

Y/I’s voice brought K out of his daydream, “So…learn anything interesting?” Too immersed in her food, she missed how a blush appeared on his cheeks. K adjusting his suit collar and giving a nod. 

“We’ve got an agent currently stationed at the Factory. I’ll make contact with him once we’re there and see what he knows.” she hummed to show she was listening. K continued, “X is still in the dark, I had O type up what we know to go over tonight. No news on Boris and where he’s hiding,” He trailed off, watching Y/I’s grip on her fork tighten. “Other than that there’s not much else. What did you do with your day?” 

“Read your books--or re-read them as I should say,” her smile lit up the room, igniting a warmth in K’s chest. “Your collection in the future is much more impressive, but It’s nice to see what your taste in literature was at this time.” 

The small talk continued over dishes. Sticking to the case mostly and Y/I doing her damn best not to let anything slip about the main reason she was in 1969. Not ready to climb that hill yet. Of course she felt guilty keeping it from K, but she kept telling herself it was for the best. 

For the sake of the future and all. 

Already the mission screwed up the second he caught her so telling K posed a greater risk. All she had to do was wait it out. Buy more time.

That should be easy…right?

Whatever happens, Y/I didn't let the fear consume her. Today, albeit boring for the most part, had no alien attacks or the agents running in circles to find clues. They had their next to the puzzle, and it was waiting for them at the Factory. 

Tomorrow, they’ll be one step closer to Boris.

The 13th of July

“There’s an event this afternoon at the Factory,” K announced the next morning, Y/I already dressed with her coffee in hand. Passing K a mug she’d already prepared, smirking at his shocked expression before he thanked her. 

“What time?” 

“Just after six.” Y/I hummed, sipping her drink as her lip jutted into a pout. 

“And what the hell are we to do in the meantime? I can’t just sit here all day while you’re at headquarters, K. I need to be working on this case. After all, I’m the one who traveled from the future to do it,” She’ll be damned if she got left behind for a second time. 

K buttoned his blazer, moving to check himself in the mirror. “I haven’t forgotten, slick. Which is why…” He trailed off, approaching with a smirk. Reaching beside her to grab an apple from the basket where a loud crunch echoed as he sank his teeth into the fruit. “We’re goin’ on patrol to pass time.” Y/I choked on her coffee, thinking she misheard him.

“Patrol?” She repeated, tone incredulous. “You mean we’re gonna sit in your car for almost twelve hours prowling the streets of New York in hope Boris or another clue just magically appears out of thin air? That type of patrol?”

K’s face lit up, eyes sparkling like diamonds, making him ten times more attractive and Y/I bit the inside of her cheek. It was so unlike his regular stoic demeanor. Made her wonder what changed him. “Exactly,” K gestured for her to follow. “Let’s get a move on.”

They pulled up to the Factory after a long day of sitting around--at which point Y/I took a bomb ass nap, waking up to the glorious sight of K singing along to The Who---and gave the exterior a once over before Y/I turned to K. “Alright, if Boris is here I’m going to kill him,” her tone was serious, “I need my gun.”

K shook his head, “No deal,” He was exiting the car before she could respond. Y/I groaned, pushing open her own door and closing it with a slam. Not in the mood to be tested. 

“Pretty boy, I hate to pull rank but I’ve been an agent for fourteen years and if I recall MiB hasn’t even hit their ten year mark so that makes me the senior agent in this case,” she stepped up to K, who was silent and stoic. “So as senior agent I am instructing you, my junior agent, to give me my gun. And if there’s one trait I took from future you is I don’t like asking a second time,” she put her hand out open-palmed, making a grabby motion. “Gun. Now. That’s an order.”

K’s expression was full of amusement, eyes sparkling as he reached into his pocket to produce a weapon, placing it in Y/I’s palm. Only when she looked down it wasn’t the blaster.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Space gun, K.” 

K smirked, walking past his partner, “You’re welcome.” Y/I exhaled, holstering the pistol in defeat and followed after him, “Didn’t say thank you, asshole.” 

Entering the building, the two raced up the stairs where they passed two beautiful women. “For such an ungainly species, they’ve really thrived on Earth.” Y/I hummed in agreement.

“Yeah I’d been an agent for a few years before I realized all models were aliens,” they reached the top of the stairs, Y/I clicked her tongue at the memory, “Found out the hard way, but it was still a great time.” K snapped his head to her wide-eyed, confirming the suspicions he had ever since he caught her checking out O and flirting with the male store clerk. 

Yes, K was surprised by the revelation, but it didn’t change the way he looked at Y/I. She was his partner and someone he grew to care for in the short time they’ve known each other. Not to mention she’ll be a big part of his future. What mattered to K was getting the job done and surviving to tell it. 

Giving the password to the bouncer, K led Y/I into the Factory, which turned out to be a big party in the middle of a fashion show. Y/I scanned the place in awe before settling on a man that made her jaw drop. “Is that Andy Warhol?”

K followed her eyesight, then shocked her by approaching the photographer. “Yep.”

“Holy shit,” Y/I walked behind him, stunned but kept her guard up nonetheless. Watching for any unusual persons. Holding back from winking at the attractive people eyeing her up. Her patience began to thin when Andy kept refusing K’s request to come with him to answer a few questions. 

She finally snapped when he said, “Why don’t you come back next week, after the happening has happened,” in his slow, monotone voice which had her move beside K to take over. Hand coming to his shoulder while the other reached to grab Andy’s forearm, “I’m sorry, Mr. Warhol, you’re talking real slow and my patience is thin. We’ve got important stuff to do and I’ve got a planet to save.” 

He struggled against her hold, Y/I dragging the renowned artist away from the party until they were away from prying eyes. Complaining the entire way. Once in the dressing room K shut the curtains and joined the two. 

Y/I’s jaw slacked as Andy’s hand raised, removing what actually was a wig on his head. “Now that’s something.” 

“Dammit, K, you tryin’ to blow my cover!” the wig flew into K’s chest, dropping onto the floor by Y/I’s feet. The glasses were removed next, K holding a hand up to calm the situation.

“Agent W, your cover is safe.”

Y/I blinked, “you mean to tell me Andy Warhol is one of us?” Now she wanted to know what other celebrities past and present secretly were MiB agents. Micheal Jackson tried once but didn’t make the cut. 

“Safe,” Andy scoffed angrily. “Are you out of your mind? I’m so out of ideas--I’m painting soup cans and bananas for Christ’s sake.” 

A few minutes later, after Y/I and W butt heads and were seconds away from fist fighting causing K to step in, the agent busied herself by surveying the place. Exchanging glances with beautiful people, humans and aliens, but unlike before none caught her attention to have a second look. Smiling instead of a flirtatious wink she usually threw to those she found attractive. 

As she migrated to the middle of the factory, a short man wearing winter clothes--severely out of place in comparison to the attendees, caught her attention. Mostly because he was grinning like a mad man at her. Still, she politely greeted him, “Hello. How’s it going?”

“Going? How’s it going? That depends,” he replied at a record speed. “For me, personally, good, things are good--.”

Y/I was about to cut him off gently to depart but then he started rambling, “Unless, of course, we’re in the possible future we’re the muscle boy near the door argues with his girlfriend,” Y/I followed the direction his finger pointed, landing on the scene he was describing. “Which causes her to storm away and bump into the guy carrying the stuffed mushrooms, who then dumps the tray on the sailors on leave. And a shoving match breaks out and they crash into the coffee table here,” Y/I watched it all play out as the man spoke, eyes widening in disbelief and turning back to see his distressed face. “In which case, I gotta move my plate. Like right now.” He grabs it in the knick of time as the sailor flashes by Y/I and falls straight onto the table. Glass shattering as the crowd watching gasps. 

Y/I stared at the now unconscious sailor in a daze, the man coming beside her. “Or if it’s the possible future in which the pastrami sandwich I’m eating causes me gastric distress,” Eyes go back and forth between him and the sailor, processing what the hell just happened while her heart starts to beat out of her chest. “But thankfully, your friend, ma’am, will offer some of the antacids he carries in his right pocket…so good.” He offers her a smile despite her staring at him like he had two heads. “I’ll be good.”

What the actual fuck? Who was this guy, and where the fuck was K? This was above her pay grade. 

He just kept going, stunning her even more “Except in the case of the possible future where I have to leave in two and a half minutes just before he has a chance to offer me the antacids. So, on the whole I’d have to say not good. I am not good.”

Yeah Y/I had no fucking clue what to say to that. This dude was spitting possible futures like nobody’s business. Frankly, it was making her worrisome. Trying not to panic in the middle of a crowd. 

“But that depends,” he spoke again, then fell silent as the agent remained dumbfounded. 

“K!!!” Her shout was useless. K was nowhere in sight, still talking to the Warhol dude. 

Suddenly the man in front of her asked, “May I see your watch?” 

Y/I hummed, pulling back her sleeve to check the time, “Oh, it’s 7:18--.” 

“No, no,” he shook his head, nodding his head to her pant pocket. “Your other watch, the one your father gave you.”

Her blood ran cold. A sickening feeling in her stomach as the noise around her became muffled. “How….how do you know about my father’s watch?” Now Y/I was really concerned. The future trick was one thing but him having knowledge of the one thing Y/I possessed from her father was another. Still, she removed the pocket watch from its place, presenting it to the man whose face drained of color. 

“Oh dear.” He sounded like one does when they're five seconds away from shitting their pants. Anxiety seeping through his words, “This is the one where Roman is dead and the gentleman at the bowling alley. So much death,” the nameless alien’s wide-eyes met Y/I’s. “Such an infinitesimally small chance for success.”

Now was the time to panic. “K!!!!”

Speaking of the devil. He finally shows his face, and he’s calm as ever. “Griffin, right?” Seeing Y/I’s alarmed face had K go, “Hey, we’re here--.”

“Because of Boris the Animal.”

“Correct. We believe he may be coming--.” Giffin cut him off again. 

“To kill me. Yes, he’ll be here in two minutes--.” Y/I’s hand went to her holster, panning a hard look to K, who held his hand up to calm her. “--unless of course we’re in the possible future where he made all the lights on Bowery and got here early and is just about to discharge a weapon from the doorway in which case, we’re all dead in two seconds.” 

Sweat coated Y/I’s forehead, staring at the door as they waited. When Boris didn’t appear they all let out a breath of relief. Griffin smiled, “Ah, good, that was a close one.” Still the threat remained, and there’s no way in hell a pistol would do damage to a ravaging alien on a homicidal rampage. 

“Alright, K, darling, now's the time. I need my space gun,” her request was ignored, the woman glaring daggers into his profile while he listened to Griffin. She was going to kick his ass. 

The alien sounded in distress, “The Boglodites consume any planet in their path. Mine, Roman’s, the Parlaxians. I tried to stop them, but if we can stop them here--if we can deny them Earth,” he paused, looking hopeful, “we can stop them forever. They’ll starve before they reach the next planet.” Suddenly they were interrupted by the sound of his stomach growling. “Pfft. Sixty-three seconds.”

“Well, how do we do that?” K cut in, right as the alien took a bite of his sandwich, “Stop them?”

“What? Oh!” Griffin placed his food back on the plate, passing it to K. “Sorry. I have something for you. A gift,” he specified, still chewing. And before Y/I had the chance to laugh at K’s reaction to being handed the plate, the smirk on her face disappeared when he shoved it towards her. “It can protect you. I had to hide it from Boris, but if you find me again, I’ll give it to you.” Griffin took back the plate from Y/I with a grin. “Thank you. What a game! Amazing! It’s a real miracle!”

He started to leave but Y/I’s hand shot out, clutching his arm in a firm grip. “Hold on, buddy. What do you mean by a miracle?”

“Thirty seconds. I have to go.” 

“Wait, no, no, no. We got you, okay,” she assured.

“Negative possibilities are multiplying as we speak,” his voice trembled, on the verge of hyperventilating. “Twenty seconds.” 

Cursing at herself, Y/I placed her hands on his shoulders to guide away from the direction he was originally going. Moving him behind the agents. “Okay, relax. I got it.” 

Griffin did not relax. “If your watch is broken and I have gastric---.” 

“Fly,” a man’s voice shouted in the distance. “Find your place in the world!” 

“Oh dear.” The group turns to find a swarm of butterflies around the man in question. Unlike the rest of the party guests, however, Griffin wanted to vomit. “This is the one where Boris is coming through that door in twelve, eleven, ten--.” K reached into his pocket for a gun. A second later Griffin shouted, “Wait!” drawing his gaze to Y/I. “Did you have chocolate milk this morning?”

The agent was flabbergasted, her face depicting it, “Wha--yeah I did.” Griffin winced, attention focused on behind her shoulder. 

“Cindy…” Screams erupted as the name left Griffin’s mouth. Y/I spun around, gun in hand as the adrenaline kicked in upon seeing Boris standing on the windowsill. Party guests shoved passed one another to escape, and Boris shot another spike in their direction. Missing embedding into a large balloon. 

“K, follow Griffin!” she yelled, watching the alien take his chance to run. People ducked to avoid the spikes, Boris aiming at both Griffin and K, but thankfully his aim was off each time. Charging toward the Boglodite, Y/I raised the pistol and fired two shots. “Dammit!” Boris leaped from the window, landing on the streets below. Without thinking she followed after, hauling herself onto the ledge. Traveling down each platform to save herself from breaking her heels. 

Huffing once on the ground Y/I launched into a sprint, climbing onto the hood of an empty car before aiming her gun. As soon as Boris got in her sights she fired. Shot after shot. The alien dodged each bullet while pedestrians seeked shelter. 

Then suddenly Y/I felt a searing pain in her right cheek. The flesh ripped open as a spike sliced across the agent's face. “Gaaah!!” It was like hot metal branding her skin. The entire right side of her face throbbing it made Y/I’s head spin. Jaw completely numb. The bitter smell of iron filled her nostrils, gun dropping to apply pressure as blood poured from the gaping wound. Staining the collar of her white dress shirt. The agent moaned, struggling to maintain her balance on the car but the sting traveled down her spine until her knees buckled. Sliding down the car, expecting to hit the harsh pavement but instead arms caught her.

“Hey, hey, I got ya,” K’s gentle tone became alarmed when he processed her state. Locking on the red color coating her face, neck and hands. Horror struck him. “Woah, woah, what the hell happened?” 

“Spike,” she stuttered out, wincing as K guided her to the stairs of the building to sit. “I didn’t see him shoot.” Based on the position of her hand, K jumped to the worst conclusion. Thinking it was her neck that’d been hit. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, eyes darting around to find something that could help them. “Okay, just--just stay here and keep pressure. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a flash, racing to the car to retrieve the first aid kit he keeps in the back seat. “Hey!” he spotted an onlooker from the party, watching the scene unfold with a frightened stance. “Get me some napkins--or towels if you can find!” They nodded, running back inside while K went back to Y/I. Sweat beading along his hairline. “Alright darlin’, where exactly are you bleedin’? I need to know.” 

Y/I hissed, barely moving her palm off so he could see underneath. “Bastard got me on the cheek.” Relief washed over K. Happy it wasn’t her neck or anywhere close to her aorta. 

The good samaritan arrived seconds later with towels. K grabbed them as he thanked the person and with a tender hand, moved Y/I’s hand to replace it with a towel. Putting pressure as best as possible without harming her. While he did that, Y/I snatched the first aid kit and rummaged through to find everything she needed. Aware she needed stitches despite not seeing the damn rip in her face. Luckily applying her own stitches was something Y/I became a pro at over the years. First learning during her time as a detective. 

Fuck she still remembered the agony in her shoulder the first time a bullet was lodged. This, however, was ten times worse. Rivaling that of the alien stinger she took to the stomach 9 years prior. 

“What are you doin’,” K eyed her wearily as she ripped open a sterilized needle and cut a piece of thread with her teeth. 

“I don’t need a doctor to know my face needs stitches, K. I can feel it.” 

“You’re not about to do that her’ are ya?” Y/I uncapping a bottle of distilled water before proceeding to flush out the wound made him gawk. Wincing when she let out a hiss, eyes snapping shut. “We need to get ya to the hospital.”

“We can’t call an ambulance or we'll compromise the mission, and I refuse to get blood all over your car. This is the only option,” Y/I repeated the action once more.

“I can call O,” K suggested, noting how the blood flow was starting to slow. A sign of clotting. “She’ll send someone over--.”

“No, we can’t involve anyone from MiB, K, you know that. I’ll be fine once I get this cleaned. Now, please go find me a mirror.” K was hesitant but left Y/I to retrieve the item while she continued the process of cleaning the injury. Then she doused it in rubbing alcohol and was unable to contain the scream. Automatically stinging her eyes with tears. “Fuck! Fucking A, man!”

K returned with the mirror he stole from the makeup department and set it in front of Y/I. For the next twenty minutes or so they sat in silence, with the occasional whimper from the woman, as she sutured her cheek. Racing against whatever daylight they had left. 

K had to admit, he was amazed. It’s not every day one gets their cheek nearly blown off by an alien spike and manages to maintain self-control. Sure she was cursing and audibly reacting, but that’s fucking normal to the pain she was feeling. He’s seen agents with tiny injuries acting completely over the top.

By 8pm Y/I finished the stitches, cleaning the area once more and popped a couple ibuprofen in her mouth, swallowing without a chaser. Again, the act left K floored. With a clean towel Y/I doused it with water to start rubbing away the blood on her neck. It didn’t do much, but enough to not make her look straight out of a horror film. 

“You good, slick?” K patted shoulder before helping her up. Y/I stumbled but K caught her, waiting until she got her balance to let go.  nodding her head while swiping at the sweat. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. A little doozy but just give me a minute.” Y/ nodded her head while swiping at the sweat. Body still trembling, but at least the numbness was starting to fade. She bit the inside of her left cheek, pinching her face. “Damn it hurts to talk. I’m gonna need something stronger than ibuprofen.” Unfortunately that wouldn’t be available. As much as Y/I desired morphine they were on the clock. And that meant not being drugged up. 

Soon anger replaced her demeanor. Pissed off they lost Boris, and Griffin since the latter was not with K. “Dammit--we had him!”

“Relax, peach. We’ll find him.” That was the last thing she wanted to hear, Y/I moving to pick up her gun before turning back to him with scorned eyes. 

“First of all, my name is Y/I. Alright, it’s not ‘sweetheart,’, it’s not ‘slick,’, and it sure as hell ain’t ‘peach’. Look, I’m not going to relax,” She stood beside the agent, breathing heavily. “Do you not understand, we are running out of time. We are running out of clues, and there’s an invasion on its way. I need you to get that through your head,” her hands waved frantically while K sighed. Then she pointed a finger, “we did have one guy who could help. Where is he--Griffin!” Her shouting echoed, calling for the alien who was nowhere in sight. “Griffin! Where’s Griffin, K? Oh, that’s right, He’s gone! And if Boris gets to him before us that is no bueno.” 

“We need pie.”

“Excuse me?” was it the blood loss, or did she just hear K say the needed pie after the rant she just unleashed. Of all fucking things. 

K, by the grace of God, explained, “My granddaddy always said ‘if you got a problem that you can’t solve,” a finger taps his temple. “It helps to get out of your head.’ Pie. It’s good.”

“Pie,” Y/I nods, following along despite the urge to strangle K where he stood. If she weren’t so lightheaded she’d follow through on her promise of kicking his ass. 

“Yeah.”

“My cheek almost got torn off, and you’re suggesting we have pie?” Even saying the words aloud Y/I was in disbelief. Before he answered she lifted a hand, “You know what, we’ve been doing smart stuff these last few days. Real police work like following clues,” the sarcasm was strong, ignoring K shaking his head. “It might be time we do something stupid. Something that has nothing to do with what we need--you know what? Now, I want some pie, K. I want some pie.” 

She did not want pie, but needed to get the hell away from the Factory and clear her head before doing something irrational. Plus she desperately craved a cigarette. “C’mon, let’s go get some dumb ass pie.” Not waiting, Y/I turned on her heel towards the car, leaving K standing on the sidewalk. Oblivious to the smirk he bore that his plan worked out. 

“Sounds good.” 

Sitting in the diner was odd, even with the comforting atmosphere. Yes it was the same diner Y/I frequented with K, but there’s the fact it wasn’t as outdated being it had just opened a few years prior. Unlike in 2012 where the establishment was reaching its 50th anniversary. 

A menu in hand, K was deep in thought reading over the food it had to offer. Unsure which pie was more appealing. To his left, Y/I stared at his profile while the waitress’s eyes darted between the two. Unsettled and impatience coating her face by the state of Y/I and because K couldn’t decide. 

The blood stained shirt Y/I wore on full display. She kept catching the woman’s gaze flickering between the shirt and her cheek, to which Y/I offered a hesitant smile. Hoping to appease the situation. It didn’t help that the agent promised a nice tip if she refrained from calling the cops. 

That was the last thing they needed. 

Before K had the chance to ask the specials, Y/I snatched the menu out of his hands, giving it back to the waitress, “My associate will have the same thing he always has after he looks at the menu for ten minutes and asks about the specials twice. He’s gonna have a slice of apple pie with a nasty piece of cheddar on the side.” K scratched his chin, lips curling up while Y/I beamed up at the woman. “I’m gonna have the lemon-cream and since it’s my last meal I’m gonna splurge a bit,” she ended with a wink. 

It was as if the waitress couldn’t leave faster. Grimacing as she left the two agents at the countertop. Y/I chuckled, massaging her jaw to relax the muscle. “Word-class serial killer out there…and we’re having pie. I cannot wait to put this in my report.” 

As she removed her hair from its bun, letting it fall into waves on her shoulders, K smirked and said, “So what do you do in your spare time, stretch?” 

“Oh!” he laughed, pleased with her reaction. At that moment two plates of pie were presented, K thanking the waitress as she turned to leave. After the first few bites, K broke the silence, “You say we don’t talk right.”

“That’s right,” she muttered, savoring the desert as she brought a forkful to her lips. Sweet taste of lemon and cream. Shrugging as she pans him a glance, Y/I adds, “Or at least, I talk and you listen.” That really was the best description of their relationship.

“Alright, ask me a question. Anythin’ that don’t pertain to the case, I’ll answer whatever question you have.” A tempting offer. One Y/I did not want to lose after a decade of walls built up by K in which he never spoke about his past. Here was the opportunity to find out more. 

Setting down the fork Y/I turned in the seat, “How’d you recruit O?” It may have been an odd question, but Y/I was curious to know how her closest friend, besides K, got involved in alien business.

He proceeds to relay the story of his time in London surveilling Mick Jagger--yeah Y/I almost lost her damn mind--and how he and O ended the night at a pub playing darts. With each word K lit up, his personality came through causing a heartwarming feeling in Y/I. Watching K was like watching a stranger. Making her wonder what caused such a drastic change in the man in front of her. 

When K finished, Y/I whispered under her breath, “What the hell happened to you.” He wasn’t meant to hear, but he did. Shrugging his shoulders in response, “I don’t know, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Part of me wishes it won’t,” a sad smile appeared, scolding herself for even thinking such. Still, she couldn’t help but add, “I like you like this.” 

“Like what?” His voice turned soft, setting his own fork down. 

“Just…..” the words failed to come out, Y/I shaking her head and turning back to her pie. “Nevermind.”

Sensing her dejection, K switched the subject. “You know, I’ve never seen someone get their cheek nearly ripped off and suture the damn thing like it was nothin’.” She snickered, mumbling how she was pissed off at the scar it would leave. “Where’d you learn that skill anyway?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat with a sip of water, soothing the dryness she hadn’t realized earlier. “I was a detective for ten years prior to joining MiB--and a patrol officer for five before that. Learned early on how to stitch flesh together when you’re dodging bullets left and right for fifteen years.” Since her eyes were on the pie, Y/I missed the way the gears were shifting in K’s face. “Then rolling with MiB this long has really perfected it. Gotta say, I know how to stitch some skin.” 

K’s mouth opened and closed, bewilderment splashed across his complexion. He debated whether asking the question he had was the right call, but he needed to know because the entire time he assumed Y/I was in her mid-to late thirties. She certainly looked it, and the makeup she wore was so light her actual skin was on display. And while a good part of her hair was gray/white, he thought it was just hair dye and she was following a trend popular with her time. Five or six years was what K better she had on him. Yet apparently she’s got thirty years of experience in the field. 

“I know this is a very ungentlemanly thing to ask,” his tone was apologetic, hand out in front of him as he grasped his thoughts. This could either go really good or really bad. “And please forgive me, I don’t mean any offense…but how old are you, Y/I?” K regretted asking the second the words left his mouth as Y/I started to choke on the water. Jumping from the stool to pat her back while she struggled to catch her breath. Then her laughter replaced the heaving, sending relief in the man. 

“Oh my god, that was not the question I thought you’d follow up with,” calming down, Y/I cleared her throat as she gave one last pat to the chest. “I appreciate your concern, K, but you don’t gotta worry about offending me. Especially when it comes to my age.” He relaxed his shoulders, sighing in relief as moved back to his stool. Smirking, Y/I perched her elbow on the counter to lay her good cheek on her palm. “I’m curious though, before I answer, just how old do you think I am?”

He flushed red, “Well, my guess was 35, 37. You said we’d been partners for 14 years so I assumed you were recruited in your twenties. But after hearin’ you say you’d been an officer long before….,” he made a sound, “I was completely wrong.” 

“Well I’m flattered,” Y/I teased, nudging his arm to show she wasn’t upset at all. Y/I was used to people assuming she was younger than her actual age. And each time it boosted her confidence, and ego. “Now you understand why I had to get my face products. I have not gone a day without sunscreen since I was sixteen. I’ve worked so hard to keep this face young,” she let out a disappointed sigh, “now that’s fucked up thanks to Boris.” Crossing her arms Y/l leaned both elbows on the countertop, beaming, “I’m 48, by the way.” 

“You’re lying,” K shakes his head even though he knows she’s telling the truth. And Y/I knew too.

“You know I’m not,” her laugh made him grin. It was like physically hearing sunshine. Making K want to hear it again and again to soothe the addiction simmering in him.

“Well I sure need to start following in ya steps.”

Again she laughed, “Like I said the other day, cowboy, you’re still a looker in the future,” she said with a wink. The flirty banter came naturally. Only this time Y/I had a weird sensation in her chest she didn’t understand. Affection, intrigue, endearment. 

Things she already felt for K, but were breaching a whole new concept than the appropriate way to view a friend.

Oh, wait a minute.

“So you were a youngin when you joined the boys in blue,” K commented, brow raised and unaware of the battle going on in his partner’s mind. And heart.

“Oh yeah,” she recovered quickly, distracting herself with a bite of pie. “Freshly eighteen and out of high school. College was the plan,” another piece of pie, “but after my family kicked me out and left me with nothing my options were limited.” Oh boy, that wasn’t supposed to slip out. She couldn’t stop now, “but it was a fun ride at the NYPD while it lasted. I like the uniform we wear more.”

Instead of a laugh from K, she was met with silence. An eerie silence. And when the agent looked up, she found him unsettled. Before she could question it, K beat her by saying, “Your parents disowned you?” A roughness laced his tone, surprising Y/I by how it matched his demeanor. As if it deeply upset K to hear it, which in turn sparked something in Y/I.

“Yeah,” the whisper was met with the final bite of pie. Chewing it slowly before swallowing with a sip of water to chase it down. Letting the fork clank onto the plate and push to the side. “My mom and step dad didn’t approve of my….affections to the all the beauty life has to offer.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she referred to. K already had confirmation. But still, he stayed silent. Listening to Y/I speak. What pained him was the fact her family sought to kick her out instead of accepting her like they should have. It angered him.

“They didn’t hesitate the second they caught me in a compromising position with a girl they were under the assumption was only there to work on a school project,” she continued, after signaling for the waitress to bring her a cup of coffee. “Really it was my step dad who wanted me out, and my mom did whatever he said. He never liked,” Y/I pointed out, hands wrapping around the hot mug. “I often think he was just waiting to get rid of me. My half-siblings didn’t talk to me after--or extended family once the word got out.” The bitter taste hit her lips, Y/I sighing. 

“And since my father had left ages ago it left me with no one. I did try to find him,” she admitted, stirring the coffee with the spoon as she placed it back on the counter. “The second I became a detective I---and I don’t condone it--did use the resources to my advantage. But found nothing….it was like he didn’t even exist. I know he did.” The watch poked her thigh in its pocket. “I have his watch, his military medals, and a vague memory from when I was young that is all but a blur now.” A pregnant pause occurred, then her voice lowered, “I just wish I knew why…..”

K clenched his jaw. Everything screamed at him to do or say something, but he only had one thing to really say, “I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/I.” Something flared in the woman hearing K say her name. Her actual name and not ‘slick’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘ace’. It sent heat down her spine.

Shaking her head, the woman gave a small smile, “Thank you. I accepted it a long time ago. Doesn’t bother me anymore--I have all I need now,” she attempts to lighten the atmosphere with another ink, “No need to worry about little ole’ me.” 

After making sure Y/I was okay the conversation continued. They talked about K’s life before MiB, which was of great interest. Y/I learned more about K in three days than in ten years. They laughed, they teased. Told shocking stories leaving the other dumbfounded. 

Somehow the topic of past relationships came up. Y/I wasn’t sure what to make of it but found it entertaining nonetheless. Watching K skew his brows listening to her talk about the most outrageous dates and partners she’d accumulated was fascinating. 

“And now?” K asked, nursing his own cup of coffee, “You got someone waiting for you when you get home?” Y/I let out a lighthearted scoff, shaking her head. 

“No. Haven’t in a long time really,” It’d been three years since her last relationship. “Last one was an agent, but they broke it off after a few months.” 

“Did they say why?”

They did say why. And what Y/I once laughed at, panning it to be her ex upset Y/I wasn’t giving them enough attention. But thinking back, along with the unnamed feelings Y/I battled, she was beginning to think there was truth to what her ex said. Simply thinking about it made her stomach flutter.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Y/I pondered before answering, “They said it was because they were tired of feeling like a third wheel in the relationship.” Saying it out loud really put it into perspective, as did her next words, “They didn’t like how I was more devoted to being your partner, than to being theirs.”

Silence filled the space as the revelation hung in the air. Neither knowing how to follow up. Suddenly it became hot, and it wasn’t the coffee. Almost like a lightning bolt struck with how much electricity flowed between the two. Indescribable. 

Fuck K was right. Pie does make things clear.

[paradiseismine]

Finnverse love languages headcanons

Pairing: Finn Wolfhard + Finnverse characters x f!reader

Summary: how Finn and each of his characters would display their affection towards you, according to the 5 love languages theory.

Warnings: mostly fluff, a bit of spice 🎀🌶️ (still sfw)

Love note from Nina: I saw y’all in my poll wanting more Finnverse posts. Here you go, lovelies 💕 more Olivia and Mike content coming soon too!

Finn Wolfhard (himself)

Main love languages: quality time + gifts

Being as busy as he is, Finnie considers time to be an important and scarce resource in his life. That being said, he’ll make time for you as much as he possibly can - even if that means taking an early flight and/or staying up all night. When you two are together, he’s 100% yours: barely touches his phone and doesn’t zone out while you two are talking. He loves to take you to cute coffee shops and museums, as well as tennis or basketball games. He’s not very pda oriented, but will hold your hand at all times while you’re out together.

Since he travels so much because of filming, he can’t always be present for special occasions, and feels very guilty about it. So, whenever he comes back from a work trip, he’ll surely show up at your front door with a box of gifts for you. Small jewelry, clothes, exotic snacks, perfume, you name it, he’ll bring it. Sometimes, he’ll even ask you directly for suggestions on what to buy for you (“Babe, I’m going to France next month. What would you like from there? Anything specific?”). He just loves you so much and wants you to feel safe in your relationship, even if he can’t physically be with you as much as he would like (which is 24/7).

Boris Pavlikovsky

Main love languages: physical touch + gifts

Your favorite foreign is naturally quite touch oriented, that you’ve always known, but isn’t something merely sexual - of course, he loves to pin you down on his bed and make you his, loves to grope your body and leave small purple marks on your neck. But he’ll basically never not be touching you. Expect hand holding at all times when you two are out on the street; an arm around your waist when at a party or any social gathering, little pecks to your cheeks and lips every now and again. He likes to trace your features as you lie down on his lap, as well as massaging your hands or your feet when he has the chance. “You’re so perfect, my love, I like to touch because I feel that you are real and not just my dream, yes?”, he’ll say. Ugh, vou love this boy.

Overall, Boris wants his girl to feel taken care of. He’ll always ask if you need anything, if you’re craving any specific food or ran out of any of the beauty products you usually use. He will always look for those in order to get them for you, and if he can’t provide something that you want, obviously, he’ll steal it. He’s been kicked out of a few convenience stores for shoplifting your favorite snacks and cannot set foot in Sephora anymore, but still gets Theo to help him get things for you. You don’t ask him for all this stuff, but he wants to display his love for you in a way that he thinks will make you feel happy. Sometimes he steals random stuff too, like a book or a keychain, just for you to have it, even if it’s something silly or not something you actually need. It’s adorable, you’re just afraid of him getting in trouble for it.

Mike Wheeler

Main love languages: quality time + physical touch

Being the party leader, Mike loves to plan things ahead of time and make sure everything will happen perfectly - that extends and even intensifies when it comes to dates with you. He always comes up with new ideas for you two to spend some time together: stargazing, looking for shapes in clouds, having a little picnic, reading the same book out loud to each other (taking turns in each paragraph), movie nights, game nights, biking around together. When you’re out of town and away from him, he’ll call you every day and keep talking with you on the phone for hours until his mom yells that she’ll make him pay the bill. He’s always looking for fun things to do with you, and can’t wait to tell you about them. He just loves you, and you’re his girlfriend, so it’s not, like, weird, right?

When you two are in the same room, any stranger that comes by can immediately tell that you’re a couple. His arm is usually around your shoulder/waist, or his thumb is caressing the back of your hand gently, or he’s peppering your forehead in kisses. Out of the Finnverse bunch, Mike is the most touchy-feely, and is always looking for an excuse to touch you. If your parents or his parents aren’t home, you are going to casually give each other a call and come over to whoever’s house is empty for a good couch make out session. At parties, there’s always a point in the evening in which the gang will look around and you two will be nowhere to be found - sneaking into a more private area for some intense hooking up is still frequent, and Mike will savor the moment as much as possible, as long as his pretty girl is comfortable, of course.

Miles Fairchild

Main love languages: acts of service + gifts

When you two started dating and Miles gently kissed your hand saying he’d do anything for you, he meant it more seriously (and literally) than you’d expect. In fact, you need to be careful with what you allow him to do for you - you complained about this one girl at school one day and Miles weirdly asked you if you wanted her to vanish. You picked up on what he meant and quickly denied, stating you only wanted her out of your life, not life itself. The girl ended up transferring schools shortly after, but rumor has it she’s still alive (though maybe traumatized). He’ll do anything for you, no matter what or how.

Not being very good with expressing himself through words, Miles also sees gifts as a non-verbal way of communicating: whether it is to express his love for you, apologize or prepare you for something special (meeting Flora for the first time, for example), he’ll shower you in gifts. Expensive ones, mostly. His family’s wealth is at your full disposal, according to him - he’ll sometimes show you magazines with pictures of houses or cars and ask you which ones you like best, which style of decoration you find the most beautiful. He’s crazy for you and intends to marry you as soon as you both finish your education, so he wants to have everything perfectly picked out to cater for your tastes before he even proposes.

Trevor Spengler

Main love languages: acts of service + quality time

Ever since your first encounter ever, you know that if anything happens, you can call Trevor. If your car’s not starting, if you broke the heel of your favorite shoe, if you need someone to help you put together a new piece of furniture. Nowadays, you won’t even have to ask - Trev will notice something’s in need of repair, for instance, and offer to fix it for you. It’s his pleasure to know he’s being helpful and releasing you from any concerning little things that come up. He wants his girl to be able to relax and focus on what’s important - he’ll take care of the rest, no problem.

When he’s not all tangled up in his ghostbusting duties, my dear, this boy is attaching himself to you by the hip. That includes driving you anywhere you need, taking you to the movies, eating dinner at a cute restaurant, anything you want, really. He’ll educate himself on any special interest of yours in order to spend more time with you, whether it’s by accompanying you to any related event or just talking about it in general. All of his friends know you from the very beginning, and his mom and Phoebe are also used to seeing you hang out at their house in weekdays, ‘cause Trev ain’t waiting for the weekend to spend time with his princess. Lucky usually makes fun of him for being so clingy, but you’re not complaining - his company is your favorite, and he’s always on board to whatever weekend activities you have in mind. He’s a “let’s go?” “let’s go!” kinda guy and you love that about him.

Ziggy Katz

Main love languages: words of affirmation + acts of service

Ziggster is pretty vocal on how he feels about you: he’s always calling you pet names, telling you how beautiful you are, saying that he loves you more than anything else in the world. You two exchange hoodies quite often, and whenever he returns one of yours (because it no longer smells like you), you reach for the front pocket - there’s always going to be a little love note in there, something along the lines of “Don’t forget how much I love you (and also that you’re hot as fuck). Love, Ziggy”. He sometimes draws little stick figures and say that it’s the two of you, usually kissing or playing the same guitar. His morning texting game is also amazing, he usually wishes you a good day, says you’re beautiful inside and out and sends a few tiktok videos that he curated for you to watch as you get ready in the morning. You find it adorable, and he never gets tired of making you feel special.

Ziggy also really supports your dreams, and when you told him you’d like to start creating YouTube content, he was overjoyed at the possibility of helping out his beloved girlfriend. He taught you how to set up lights, which microphone you should get, how to write your titles to make more people click on your videos. The editing is on him, you didn’t even have to ask. He got his followers on HiHat to support your channel as well, so you kick-started with a small faithful audience. Whenever you are out in a nice restaurant or something like that, he’s eager to take your pictures - and he’s actually very good at it! He directs you really well and always gets your best angle (“Not that it’s hard, any photo is going to be perfect when the main focus is this beautiful!”).

[starryredpandawrites]

“Born From the Same Ink” Ch. 14 Sneak Peek

Henry flipped to a fresh page on his sketchpad to start a rough storyboard for a new Bendy episode. It saddened him that it and the rest of his drawings would likely never be seen by anyone other than Boris (and that was only if the artist was lucky enough to get out of this damn prison), but that wouldn’t stop him from drawing. 

Just as he felt himself falling into the familiar rhythm of creation, he heard an odd noise. Initially, he tried to ignore it, used to overhearing strange sounds outside his cell even when the shutter was drawn. The problem was it was definitely getting louder…or getting closer? 

Pencil paused, Henry closed his eyes, listening intently. The sound turned into a series of thuds, like massive footsteps, and they were definitely getting closer. 

Then, he heard Audrey’s voice. “Keep it coming, you’re–wow you’re more flexible than you look.”

“ARGLFH.”

“I have no idea what you just said but you’re doing great! We’re almost there!”

A door creaked open, followed by Audrey frantically yelling, “Waitwaitwaitwaitwait, watch your head-”

CRASH

“What in Bendy’s name–” 

“Hi Sammy! This is–GET AWAY FROM THE WINDOW!”

SMASH

“Awesome, great, good job, big guy. Quick note: you don’t need to break the glass and the wall behind it, just the glass but that’s okay!”

“Okay?! That...thing almost killed me!”

“Oh you’re fine,” she quickly replied, her tone switching from encouraging to dismissive and back to encouraging so fast it gave Henry whiplash. `“Now, I need you to break out one more person then you’ll get your treat, but this time, please wait to punch until I tell you it’s okay, okay?”

“GRRHGLUMPH.”

Stunned, Henry wondered what sort of nightmarish creature was strong enough to break Sammy’s window. He didn’t have to wonder for long when Audrey popped in front of his cell. Her formerly well-styled hair had clumps sticking out in every direction (although her curl was intact, he noted with an artist’s interest), and her gold, pupil-less eyes had a crazed look to them. While that was concerning, what concerned him most was the coffee cup in her hand holding what appeared to be a hyperrealistic ink heart.

“Hi Henry!” she chirped cheerfully with a stressed smile. 

Normally, he would have at least given a nod in greeting but he just noticed the heart was still beating. 

 “Don’t freak out, I have a friend here to help get you free, so stay away from the window.”

Before he could react, she disappeared. Then, he heard her call out far-too-casually for his liking, “Okay, you can go break the glass now.”

Hellllooooooo I finally have the next update (almost) ready! I'm probably going to post it this Friday. I also might try hosting a stream on Saturday where I play the new Bendy game/Secrets of the Machine (and possibly Bendy and the Dark Revival depending on how everything goes) but I'll keep you guys updated.

Thanks for reading and have a FANTASTIC morning/day/afternoon/evening/night! 🖤🤍🖤

[60sloveletter]

10 classic films for beginners

Which hopefully aren’t too basic

Vivacious woman

Summary - College town life gets turned upside down after a button-down botany professor secretly weds a sizzling nightclub singer.

Notes: Jimmy Stewart and Ginger Rogers have incredible chemistry, definitely worth a watch if you love rom-coms!!

Don’t bother to knock

Summary - An airline pilot pursues a live-in babysitter at his hotel and gradually realizes she is not as stable as perhaps she should be.

Notes: one of my favourite Marilyn Monroe performances. This is a one of a kind performance in her catalogue and well worth the watch

The Hitch Hiker

Summary: Roy and Gilbert's fishing trip takes a terrifying turn when the hitchhiker they pick up turns out to be a sociopath on the run from the law. He's killed before, and he lets the two know that as soon as they're no longer useful, he'll kill again. The two friends plot an escape, but the hitchhiker's peculiar physical affliction, an eye that never closes even when he sleeps, makes it impossible for them to tell when they can make a break for it.

Notes: a female directed thriller, the suspense of this story is enough to keep you entertained for the whole run time

Repulsion

Summary: Beautiful young manicurist Carole suffers from androphobia (the pathological fear of interaction with men). When her sister and roommate, Helen, leaves their London flat to go on an Italian holiday with her married boyfriend, Carole withdraws into her apartment. She begins to experience frightful hallucinations, her fear gradually mutating into madness.

Notes: Roman Polanskis first film on English, it really shines in both direction and the performance from Catherine Deneuve

The red shoes

Summary: In this classic drama, Vicky Page is an aspiring ballerina torn between her dedication to dance and her desire to love. While her imperious instructor, Boris Lermontov, urges to her to forget anything but ballet, Vicky begins to fall for the charming young composer Julian Craster.

Eventually Vicky, under great emotional stress, must choose to pursue either her art or her romance, a decision that carries serious consequences.

Notes: the technicolour in this movie really shines against the ballet sequences, if you love ballet, a tortured artist or just some beautiful cinematography, give this a watch.

Roman holiday

Summary: Overwhelmed by her suffocating schedule, touring European princess Ann takes off for a night while in Rome. When a sedative she took from her doctor kicks in, however, she falls asleep on a park bench and is found by an American reporter, Joe Bradley, who takes her back to his apartment for safety. At work the next morning, Joe finds out Ann's regal identity and bets his editor he can get exclusive interview with her, but romance soon gets in the way.

Notes: if you’re looking for a movie that feels like a warm hug, try this. Romantic and a gorgeous Gregory Peck, what more do you need

Angel face

Summary: Ambulance driver Frank Jessup is ensnared in the schemes of the sensuous but dangerous Diane Tremayne.

Notes: An almost predictable noir, it’s highly enjoyable seeing Jean Simmons in this type of role

The children’s hour

Summary: A private all-girls boarding school is scandalized when one spiteful student accuses the two young women who run it of having a romantic relationship.

Notes: Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLaine add such emotion to this story, making anyone enthralled by the tragic story

The shop around the corner

Summary: Two employees at a gift shop can barely stand one another, without realising that they are falling in love through the post as each other's anonymous pen pal.

Notes: Jimmy Stewart is so charming in this, an amazing watch around the holiday season

Bonnie and Clyde

Summary: In the 1930s, bored waitress Bonnie Parker falls in love with an ex-con named Clyde Barrow and together they start a violent crime spree through the country, stealing cars and robbing banks.

Notes: Faye Dunaways outfits are enough to make you watch this, her berets really brought the trend to life again