#everyone could see it but somehow the rug got pulled on us

[kyraxyrespace]

Day Ten - Tai Kamiya/Sora Takenouchi, Taiora (Digimon)

[steddieas-shegoes]

documentary

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'behind the music'

rated m | 723 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: modern era, famous corroded coffin, established steddie

📹📹📹📹📹📹📹📹📹📹

"Steve!" Gareth calls from the couch of the living room, not caring that Eddie was fast asleep in his chair. "It's on!"

Steve rushes into the room, nearly falling face first when he slips on the corner of the rug. He's wiping his hands on a towel, probably wet from doing the dishes after dinner.

Jeff and Frankie are sitting on the other couch, leaning forward to watch.

Eddie's still asleep somehow.

"Metal bands have always been expected to just make due with whatever already exists in the metal community. 'Don't play acoustic' and 'You can't play Coachella' and 'You can't feature a pop star.' But we just like music. We wanna share music with people."

"Listen to you, Jeff. So poetic," Frankie teases. Jeff shoves him, but they keep watching the ad for their documentary.

"We live in a time where people don't have to just like one thing. Someone can have a playlist that's got us right next to Dolly Parton and Taylor Swift if they want. If people saw my playlists, they'd think a group of teenagers made it."

Eddie doesn't even wake up when his voice fills the room, his face on the screen.

"Corroded Coffin announces world tour with a new opening guest for every show. The artists range anywhere from Chappell Roan to Sleep Token." A male reporter is shown on the screen.

"No one's doing it like them, that's why we love them," a few fans say into a camera during an interview.

"The members of Corroded Coffin refused to do a documentary for years, too busy writing, recording, and performing music for the masses. But they've taken time off this year, focusing on personal time with loved ones and staying out of the limelight they worked so hard to reach. We finally managed to sit down with them and find out who they are...behind the music."

The ad changes to a fast food commercial and Steve laughs.

"That was somehow more dramatic than anything Eddie's ever done," he says as he walks over to wake up his still sleeping boyfriend. "Ed, you missed it."

Eddie's eyes blink open, but he doesn't seem to remember that he fell asleep with everyone in the room. He grabs Steve's thighs and pulls him down so he's straddling his waist.

"Hey, big boy. Was just dreamin' about you."

Steve laughs. "You can tell me all about it later. When your best friends are not sitting a few feet away."

Eddie turns his head, but doesn't take his hands off of Steve's hips. "You should all go. I have business to attend to."

"You missed the ad, dumbass," Gareth says, throwing one of the pillows at Eddie. "Keep your hands to yourself until the next run."

"Don't you think it's already on social media?" Frankie asked before Eddie could.

"Probably, but it's different on tv."

Eddie squeezes Steve's hips, but lets him get up. He sits up and smiles up at Steve. "Later?"

"If you can stay awake, sure."

Steve leaves the room and Jeff, Frankie, and Gareth all start teasing Eddie immediately. He lets them; He knows he's a lovesick idiot.

When the next ad comes on as scheduled, Eddie watches it silently.

He pulls his phone out and calls Wayne, asking if he saw it.

And then he starts crying.

Everyone's in complete shock.

"Steve! Eddie's crying!" Gareth yells.

This time when Steve comes rushing into the room, it's with panic in his eyes. He seems to realize what's going on the moment he sees Eddie, though. He shoos everyone out of the room as he makes his way to him, kneeling in front of him and placing his hands on his face.

The guys don't hear much, but they can make out Eddie blubbering "we worked so hard for this and it's happening" and Steve's gentle shushing and praise.

"Should we get pizza delivered?" Frankie asks.

"I think now's a good time to just leave," Jeff suggests. "We can get hibachi."

"Hell yeah!" Frankie fist pumps and opens the front door, holding it open as Jeff walks through it.

Gareth looks back towards where Steve has Eddie's head against his shoulder, hand in his hair. He smiles to himself as he leaves to join Jeff and Frankie.

They really did work their asses off to get here.

[flowerlikelives]

lyrics

the MOON

I drove up to the city at night where the hills were filled with void, lack, houses and you grew up there and your gooey melted self that you hold strongly somehow ricocheted off your parents’ absence and you narrowly escaped and felt stronger and hotly radiated revenge towards us all today and you were spending the night nervously dialing for your true friends and strongly I got your call and lovingly was reeled in. I invested it all for some reason and found myself excited to see the warming city night sky through the cars and painful glass and gas and the beautiful location and soiled sand bore fruit before rotting and cutting down and sickly replacing for the wrong reasons. I was wholly excited to greet this waste. Pointless things like trimmed trees and radio towers became towering symbols and I noticed you in the cold standing simply right next to me and then we walked around until it got late, a triumphant blow to the fleeting fires that usually pull us both to bed when they go out early on, disappointingly early, you told long stories about your long upbringing while we passed mansions and leaf-blown heaps, rot, bricks and garages, we could probably both feel the ghost of a lighthouse of a tree they could see from out in boats and across the bay where everyone used to climb the hill, where now 3 red metal towers dominate, to congress and figure out what’s gong wrong, back before all the things in the city were so devastatingly wrong, someone’s house dumbly replaced such an important spot, the house dumb and serving so few because of its quick rise. But alas, in spite of all this spirit-breaking waste I felt intact, sturdy even, a soaring self looking around and noticing the minor things that importantly hung on, meekly insisting that the world is actually mysterious and unconquerable, even the weird beauties we have a tainted hand in: the glowing orange nighttime cloud cover, the echoing cross walk alarm, the din of the street, tires rotting, our weak castle being slowly demolished, these things can bring me slowness, calm power and cutting eyes in the right moments, and I felt it then looking up at the orange lights lighting unfortunate streets and reflecting back up and resonating through the thick cloud coating in an orange city glow, the black behind eerily reminding us not to forget what else, and I turned my cutting eyes your way and saw pools of brown just as wide as my holes of brown bearing honestly what we held inside for a second we were both looking brave and sharply seeing in. I ended up just spending the night up there next to you in the same room where you grew up and the sleep was so thick that when we woke up, when the sun was up miraculously again, it was a miracle to me that we were still sweetly there in your parents’ house, lying in bed together feeling strong and open and the light came in the expensive windows to light our out-of-place thighs like raised arms and cocked head screaming in rejoice, the feeling was deep and strong. Tides turned. I went back to feel alone there, to wipe the place clean, to see the towering symbols for what they were, to confront painful clues to a wholesome loving past and neutralize myself in a way where maybe I could be human again.

Flashback: and we went all the way up to the small town where I’m from and you had family there and a big wholesome idea about what I was because of the wholesome sense that this place puts off, and admittedly it’s a wholesome place, foggy blankets hold rocky peaks and fishing nets usually are getting untangled in the yard. We were there separately as kids when it was safe from the poor judgement that’s ruining it now. The wind blows strongly and whipped us into a wintry frenzy feeling rugged and warm about the closeness we calmly shared and we avoided thinking of the problematic plan you set out with that would bloom and hurt later on. We went to the top of the mountain and looked off the edge at the other islands and the rolling clouds, the cascading mountains and the eerie heights. It was high to look down from and still feel safe, we held each others’ hand and sadly couldn’t all the way feel each other, though the smooth wrinkles in your palm were hot and shocking enough to generate a sense of clear in me. I finally felt like I was breathing free to be at such a height and look across the globe and hold a loving limb that gripped lovingly and firmly in the whipping wind. Was I imagining this sense that you were also there with me? Was I putting you in a role I’d already put out and just believing what I wanted? I got a glimpse that replaced my doubts with a thick breath of clean air, the fog below parted and revealed lakes and trails through the mossy woods where we spent that night outside under mountainous blankets looking up at the swaying trees in a way that told an old story to me, the lyrical swaying of long black limbs was full of character, the character was so dark and long lasting into the night it crept into our heads and held us under its spell, we dreamt the same dream, and ended up dreaming creepily similar every night, our minds were obviously dreaming towards the same cloudy “place” for a sweet reason and I held tight to that fact, the shallow proof that we were on the right path and looking back this becomes a gloomy shameful clawing grasp: we were lonely people lying out in the yard struggling to feel each other, sleeping soft, to feel softness so nearby is a slippery reward, we got it in our grasp and held tight all night in a way that put our limbs asleep. There was the distant repetition of the lighthouse tone all night, the wooshy clacking of the trees’ chilly blow and more cloudy glowing lights from the refinery’s green glow in the sky, the night was long and sort of weird how chilly and sturdy it felt the whole thick night through. Another miraculous awake dawning, roosters and tramping baby goats bleating and discussing the common night, for animals in the barn who wake up cold every day there’s no refreshing feeling like ours to get hot slowly while the creeping sun composted our mountains of padding, waking up in the yard felt the same with soupy muscles as the day before being tilted by wind and clinging to rocks in a barren place, the warm slow chesty feeling was the same, the calm assurance of having a friend who can see with you, you know? but the cutting truth was made clear: I have an island home, my place is to be ferried not bridged, the dramatic sadness poured out and I went back and felt alone in those places, I went up the mountain again alone and tried to not hold any false power in my old feelings up there, I let myself feel awful and blow away.

We went to the beach together, a detailed trip with larger vague warm feeling. It was cold and we only had the wool blanket from my bed, we used it as a shield from the sandy wind and the blinding light coming off the loud water, a tiny tent, a hidden birth, 2 bodies on the earth eating sand and lovingly rubbing it in all around and through our hair, taste, temperature, a fresh perspective of what seems really important, a triumphant statue in the face of a lonely world, we had a lofty feeling on the beach like pioneers while I pioneered the territory in your chest, the bloody frontier, my homestead was stocked with flesh and whispered stories, a bountiful stockpile for today’s long winter, my cured supplies have turned bitter, the warmth I hoped to reminisce about was a freezing illusion, there’s no storing away what’s so true and fleeting, the constant palette of lack is reliable, it’s slow and visible through a flimsy film of pride and poorly built false secure senses. It was intense. We were new, you were trying to stake your claim on me then and I swung my gate wide for your parade, gifts, jugglers, banners, fruitful hope and warm teamwork. You moved in upstairs from my room, you lowered down notes, you walked softly on my ceiling, your bath leaked on me. There on the beach in the wind we were 2 teams joining forces understandingly and streamlining to fierce wind, the roaring waves, the pounding surf, the foggy (something) that caught my eye stayed there and grew, my view got wide and I was a larger person, magnificently widened. Wide eyed under covers in a threatening place and feeling warmth from another’s breath. I got sharply cut in half and had to go back to the sea and wish I hadn’t opened my gates. I had to, in a way, renounce what I knew was true and the large ways that I’d grown I had to claim to not be, it was stupid. I went to the sandy expanse and felt sweeping regret, my woolly shield at home, and standing out there threatening to be blown down, to inflict a sobering blow on my cold head. I stared to sea in a violent way, a red gaze to the blue washy spray. I went back there to remember my small place and your insignificant role.

Continuously now every single night since I’ve been alive there’s been a white light from above, a sort of eerie bluish glow on the empty streets where we live. In the summer’s end we climbed out the window downtown and out onto the roof with more blankets again and stared knowing at it for what it was, a floating ball of rock lit up by another ball, an invisible ball of fire reflecting light and weird blue mooney thoughts ricocheted around our planet onto us on the roof staring silently up and feeling invincible, dangerous, and high, I had the exciting feeling of heft in my chest like I was carrying a baby, my baby looked exactly like me and looked me in the eye sharply knowing I was about to lose it but from up on the roof I looked out across the globe again with you: I felt the lava behind us coursing deeply and the other side, I felt the space above us and the other side of the moon and behind that, and off to the side I felt tiny lights off the glass, my sensitivity ran off, I could feel electricity through a wire from a mile away and I even felt the churning water turning turbines behind that and the fish upstream and smooth rocks beneath being slowly ground down by the polishing flow and the bubbling mountains glacially spilling stone, the smooth escape and reformation of pilgrims from one rotting body to another tiny growth to rot soon and expand. I felt a part of this all and I was content to have you feel it too, to have the blood in your hand holding mine be equally wet and warm, and I looked to my right and saw you riveted to the sky, riveted in an all encompassing way to feel it all, including me and my mountainous pride to your left, we were a pair of moist bodies again in the creepy bluish light. To be able to feel in an instant the size of your self and the distance to that elusive glowing ball and the long path it all takes to become what you’re a part of now: it’s like being transcendently dead for a second, to be able to breathe in and out and have that be a rapturous play, we were silently amazed and nobody said any words, we felt safe and we discovered that our skin is soft, we both are glowing in smooth flesh like blue mooney light and we found that out, you had your arm on my waist, I had my palm on your neck, air flowed in and slid out, cars drove by, the roaring sound of the planet’s spin, we were separately mighty and tiny universes and our main strength was being able to psychically discuss certain death, the only thing left. We were mighty. After getting terribly hurt by you I had to go back and cancel everything out that had any value, a helpful and depressing way of dealing with such a loss. I went out into the street by my house to try and look up at the moon blindly, to all of a sudden think it’s a white hole or some kind of stupid prop, to get in the car and drive pointlessly around, to try and forget that. I made the attempt to hang my mightiness up and to be painlessly dumb, peacefully numb, it seemed better to not have to know what’s really going on for some reason. I sacrificed my calm powerful way for a stupid attempt to avoid, I stood out in the street looking up and my eyes got wide. There’s no escape and the end’s not something I’d be able to wait out, I have to lucidly keep going along and feel the cut grow and get infected before it even maybe won’t heal, I looked up for a long time and my mouth got wide and chilly air filled my chest I saw the slow rustling in the bushes across the tracks and the orange lights up the street and the tunnelling feeling below them, my neck bent low as I surveyed my still dark home, I saw my feet firmly planted on the cement. They were tinted in blue and I looked past them through the crusty layers into the burning coil, I saw the smoke from my chimney and felt my stomach roar and in the blue light I held on to my lack.

[aerifth]

new ff7r trailer got me fucked up in the club, they designed it to be as confusing as humanly possible so here are my condensed and digested thoughts on whatever the hell happened in it

as the #1 She Will Live truther it took me a minute to like wade through all of the misdirection in the trailer and i feel like im still not shaken on everything. especially with stuff like the whispers behind her? shes also like, just casting holy. and we have no idea why yet. there's nothing so far that would really insinuate that she would need to do that, but she's doing it. and if i wanted to really pick apart what we're looking at, the scene is paced very differently from the original? it might just be the trailer cut, but she opens her eyes, looks at cloud(?), there's immediately black feathers, and before she can even smile at him it's panning up to show sephiroth. so like... obviously something's super up, and i have a couple guesses as to what

the one im leaning the hardest on right now is that it's straight up not real. whatever we're looking at it's not the real, present aerith in cloud's timeline. i dont really know exactly what this means, if it's a vision sephiroth is inducing into cloud as a "this will happen because you're a fuckup" trick to get cloud on his side, or if it's jenova-related, i have no idea.

but like, there's fucking whispers in the background! which makes no sense! in cloud's timeline, the whispers are super dead. we spent a whole game destroying the thread of fate, so if they're actually back something crazy has to be happening. BUT, they are still around in zack's timeline, so maybe what we're seeing is somehow HIS aerith?

my last guess is that it's a vision of the original aerith, from the original game. this doesn't align with those minor differences i mentioned earlier (which, in a game as anal about that as ff7remake, might actually mean something important), but i could see it still serving the purpose of "sephiroth showing cloud a vision", or maybe this is what marlene somehow shows zack, now that we know this is what she was shown in remake (!!!). i dont know! i think it's a safe bet that we will see aerith die in this game, but that doesn't mean The aerith who is with us the entire game will actually end up dying.

poking around i'm still seeing a lot of people expecting her to die, which leaves me to continue thinking that her living is an unexpected enough subversion that doing it would be worthwhile. especially with how they're bracing us for it in the marketing, it feels perfect for a rug-pull, and i think the lyrics of the new song (stated to be aerith's response to cloud in hollow, the main theme song of ff7remake that was cloud calling out to aerith) drill that in. the full version of the song from the performance has lyrics that suggest aerith wanting to be saved in a pointed way that hasn't really happened before, or at least not this overtly, whereas the lyrics as they're presented in the trailer itself make it seem like it's a goodbye song.

but by that measure, i feel way more sure that the most tragic thing that could happen is not aerith dying- it's the opposite, it's cloud being torn away from her, specifically. i still feel pretty confident that cloud will be sephiroth's vessel in his titular rebirth, and that might be how they go about it all, but it feels a little weird to undercut things in that way? aerith is already still alive somehow in zack's timeline, despite everyone else being confirmed(?) dead, so i don't know what to think about that.

there's also one line from tifa that's really making me wonder how thigns are going to go in this game- she tells cloud to let her help him, which evokes cloud and tifa in the lifestream for me. we already saw a shot of tifa seemingly in the lifestream, so like, are we going to try and get to that early? are we doing that prematurely with a cloud who doesn't trust tifa, preventing her from being able to help piece his memories back together? that sounds like it would be fucking crazy, this also leads me to believe tifa is going to die somehow by the end of the game, which i still think would be more pointed than killing aerith again (as much as i dont want it to happen, for gay reasons)

right now i think the two most likely possibilities are:

aerith will live in the main timeline, she'll be the lone protagonist of the third game and figuring out how she can even begin to put the pieces back together is a major driving factor

aerith will live in zacks timeline. now, zack and aerith are entirely localized to a separate reality from the rest of the party, setting up for a faux-reunion in the third game, while giving them a way to back out into advent children, verbatim, once everything is over

i'll be honest: unless you're a purist who is here just for the preservation of the original story as-is, option 2 sucks. it's fuckin awful. it makes everything that these games are trying to do feel totally unimportant, and it makes me wonder why they bothered with the theme of changing fate if things are just going to go back to normal at the end. it's really bad. ever since they mentioned that everything will still line back up with AC, it's given me a bad vibe. like, what makes advent children happen is just the presence of the sephiroth remnants and geostigma, which can still happen. but it's also important to remember that like, remake sephiroth! is post AC sephiroth! this dude has already been through all that! it doesn't make any sense why he would want to go back to that again, it arguably makes a weird ass timeloop which kind of sucks. dont like that!

this is all of the most important stuff i've been dwelling on. this trailer was a lot, and it was definitely designed to be confusing, with biggs alive, jessie (fake) alive, barret red and bugenhagen in either the cave of the gi or the temple of the ancients?, basically everything that happens with zack, the fact that the play they do in the gold saucer is straight up just loveless now, it's all fucked. this is me coping with how fucked this trailer was

[andromeda-nova-writing]

For those who are curious of how the move went. Things that happened.

We raced afternoon thunderstorms the entire weekend. Forced to be in a heat advisory. Water was the enemy and the friend

I pulled a cart of weights that was over 250 pounds. My arms were on fire

Wasp 1 Dad 0

Dog 1 brother 0 (dog dragged my brother. He's okay. Dog was just too excited)

Official day 1 started at 8am and ended at 3am

Hubris 1 Dad 0 (the anger me and my mom gained from being told to just wait around for 1 hour turned into 4 and we were somehow in trouble. But we ain't gonna get into that cause I'm keeping the list short and with some level of class.)

Roomba 1 Dog 0 (he was put up for too much barking)

A turtle was spotted in the driveway

Yarn 1 Dad 0 (me and my mom may have a lot of yarn, but we buy it on sale. Hobbies are important to health)

Day 3, my ankle is killing me. I found my ankle support and was able to continue on with no problem. (later that day, I took proper rest)

The sewing machine has safely been brought over. My dad almost put it on a rolling cart which would have broken it. He does not know how angry I would have been if I lost it(the machine is only 4 years old, that's practically new!)

Dad overworked everyone. The consequences of his actions are a thing

On the break day, I went to the store and bought a lamp. It's cute!

My Brother had to get IV Fluid. I'm on puppy watch. Been told to play video games as my break and watch the puppy. I wrote fic instead lol

4 hours of IV Fluid and medically required relaxation time

I wrote almost 700 words wooo

I wanted a green bathroom. why is every green bath mat ugly and not the right shade. bathroom is now going to be a light purple

Couldn't find a rug for my bedroom that I liked and decided to start my own rug

Day 5, we begin to worry about tropical storm Debby

Bathroom plans changed again. I'm being loud and Hispanic

my beanbag is here and in a room where I will use it again

My granddad has decided to race a tropical storm so he can see the new house. Hilariously due to location it's actually better if he gets here to sit out the storm

Cramps are evil

My granddad made it here a day before the storm

I ordered a desk. My wallet wants a break

Thank you Debby for the maditory break

My mom can already tell I'm pissed off cause my dad thinks I'm not working hard enough. She keeps trying to tell him I'm doing a lot

My mom keeps buying things for me to try and keep me calm cause she can tell my dad is gonna cause me to go off at him

I at least get easy supply of fries

My mom is calling my dad out finally after I said I don't want to see or talk to him tonight. We want to be appreciated

Dog took over the bean bag. he is too cute sleeping on it. I guess we can share

The rain from debby is very soothing. i love rain sounds

I slept through two tornado warnings. Considering nothing happened, I'm fine but a good reminder that tornado warnings should be loud as hell

Dog killed a cicada by trying to eat it

Its been officially over a week and I'm finally on a rest day

We are celebrating with Korean BBQ. Everyone got dressed up after a week of workout clothes. We missed street fashion

After not being able to really play genshin after a while, I almost cried very silly tears of joy that I could sit down and play a video game. I did not know I missed Ayato like that lol

[zukaheart]

ID: A thread of tweets made by Melon Kid (@animegirlcrimes). The thread reads:

"fuck it whatever ill just air out my grievances now i dont feel like carrying this shit anymore

i joined the omori team in 2019, i remember being invested in production right away because getting paid to do dev work on a game i like is basically my dream

(1/whatever)

i went kinda crazy on it, i worked harder than i ever have in my life. i did not spend a second on the clock even slightly dicking around, i would regularly work like 12-18+ hour shifts just because i wanted to

people would leave for the day, come back in the morning and see me still working. by some divine miracle i somehow kept that up for like a half a year. i felt totally fine the whole time. i was flying bro

my smarter friend sensed something was wrong and tried to pull me away from work but omo resisted because at that time i was like her golden workhorse. anyway, fast forward to the 6 months later and i crash and burn out of nowhere i am straight debilitated

a lot of that was my own doing, of course, im under no illusion about that. but when it happened, omo suddenly started treating me like garbage. she didn't believe me, said i 'just didnt want to work anymore' and demanded a doctors note and i was like are you fucking serious

she would guilt me into keep working as hard as i did before despite the blatant toll on my body and say she expected better of me and would constantly downplay my illness

i felt miserable physically and emotionally, she made me feel even worse about it. and its like, this feels really shitty but fine it is what it is.

forward again to release, im really excited about the launch of the game. i put so much energy and emotional investment into this project, the thing i love the most about dev is seeing the game release and watching people play and enjoy the game

right before the game launches omo pulls the rug from under me and suddenly comes out to say she's taking back the royalties she promised earlier in the year. it soured the entire fucking launch. i couldnt even enjoy the one thing i spent a year working on and looking forward to

she goes on to say she put my royalties to a vote and said 'i thought you deserved it, but everyone else voted no :(' what kind of manipulative bullshit is that excuse me

first of all you are my boss, you know best what i contributed to the project, second you are a millionaire and i am fucking poor is this a game to you, third youre gonna throw the whole staff under the bus too? what the fuck is this

the worst thing is, i know someone who was fucked over by omo WAY MORE than i was. i wont name them (at their request), but i got like... basically the lite version of her fuckery and even THAT was personally devastating to me

i actually made a post like this shortly after omori released, but the entire team banded together voltron style and begged me to take it down and because im fucking weak i did

im STILL fucked up by the burnout i gave myself. im sore all the goddamn time, it didn't use to be like that. sure, my fault. i own it. but to treat me like shit and act like im just lazy? actually fuck yourself

i actually made a post like this shortly after omori released, but the entire team banded together voltron style and begged me to take it down and because im fucking weak i did

im STILL fucked up by the burnout i gave myself. im sore all the goddamn time, it didn't use to be like that. sure, my fault. i own it. but to treat me like shit and act like im just lazy? actually fuck yourself

oh, AND i dont show up as a member of the dev team on either their game website OR on wikipedia even though i show up in the actual game credits like 3 different fucking times?

thats interesting i wonder what thats all about

some other grievances: it was my suggestion to implement the survive at 1 HP mechanic for omori cause i could already tell players would get annoyed if they lost because he got mobbed by rng. wouldnt you know it, this also shaped the final battle to be as impactful as it is! wow!

the omoli character in blackspace was a thing that i pitched to omo and whose dialogue i wrote, it made me unreasonably annoyed to then see that character get used in promotional material for the game

you know that (in)famous aubrey school fight sequence? THAT WAS ALL ME BABEY. the base concept from omo was 'theres a bunch of aubreys because sunny has a crush' and i cooked up the scenario you see now and evented that whole sequence

(trying really hard to think of a game whose moral involves the guilt of hiding the truth of something wrong you did)

(and also explores the concept of being stressed out for being treated poorly despite working so hard for them)"

One of the developers of Omori recently shared their experiences in this thread about the treatment they had to go through during the development of the game. They're going through a rough patch at the moment. If you liked Omori, I think you should help Melon Kid out if you can!!

It's disheartening to hear that someone on a team was mistreated. Games are a beautiful medium, but the people who make those games come first. We've all got to work hard to ensure better environments for devs, and that starts with making sure they can get back on their feet!

[collecting-stories]

Midnight - JJ Maybank

Request: Hello, I would love to read something when reader gets shot and JJ is worried sick about her. Thank you!

A/N: Thank you for this insanely inspiring request...hopefully I did it justice.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The smoke from the bonfire dissipated as it rose, like clouds blending into the darkness of the night. You kept your eyes shut, so tight you could see colors behind your lids as you listened to the sound of Rafe and Barry tearing through the Chateau. If you looked to your right, you knew Sarah would be there, just as scared as you were. On your left side, a branch over, was JJ. He would probably be trying to save face, to look unafraid even though this all felt a little too real for any of you. Just moments earlier, minutes, really, you’d been sitting at the bonfire with JJ, his sweatshirt keeping you warm in the chill of the early autumn night, everyone shouting after Pope and Kiara as they took the HMS out.  

Having John B and Sarah back felt surreal. Like you could do anything you wanted to do. And somehow, even scrambling up the big tree in front of the Chateau while John B threw a bucket of water over the fire, you still truly thought that everything would be okay.  

You hadn’t even felt it at first, as Barry grabbed Rafe and he fired up into tree, you dropped flush against the limb, bark digging into your body. You saw a bullet hit the tree near JJ and all you could remember thinking was how relieved you were that he hadn’t been hit. You waited until you heard Barry and Rafe leave, speeding away from the Chateau, before you tried to move. And then you felt it, a burning in your shoulder worse than the time you’d broken your arm skateboarding. You tired to push yourself back up but your right arm gave out and you fell into the tree, cursing as you lost your balance and slipped, landing on the grass. 

Flat on your back, staring up at the leaves in the tree obscuring the stars and the blurry vision of JJ jumping out of the tree. Sarah reached you first, falling onto her knees beside you and pushing the old sweatshirt out of the way to try and see where the blood that was coating the fabric was coming from.  

“Holy shit!” Sarah shouted, “oh my god…oh my god! John B, she’s bleeding! I think she was shot!”

John B pulled Sarah away from you, covering her mouth with his hand, “be quiet. The last thing we need is for them to turn back around.” Trying to shut her up was in vain, all you could hear was the pounding of JJ’s boots on the ground and John B cursing when he was pushed out of the way as JJ crowded in to see you, “lemme see!” JJ said, dropping to his knees next to you. 

Having him there, so close to you, felt like it reignited something in you and you turned your head to the sound of his voice, obscured stars fading until all you saw in the dark was JJ kneeling over you. “JJ,” you reached your hand across your body to feel your shoulder and he pushed you away, shaking his head. 

“Don’t, I got it…it’s gonna be okay.” He promised, pressing his hand into the blood-soaked sweatshirt. “John B man, we gotta get her to a hospital.”  

“What is it?” You asked, words slurring, they felt heavy on your tongue...like you’d forgotten them. “What happened?”

“No, it’s okay,” JJ repeated. He wiped one of his hands on the front of his shirt before reaching your free hand and squeezing it, “it’s okay, we’re gonna get help.”

“We need to get outta here, if they heard us they might circle back.” John B urged, his train of thought still on Rafe and Barry. He tried to grab Sarah’s arm as she scrambled for the front door of the Chateau, “Sarah!”

“I’m getting the keys to her car, John B! JJ’s right, we need to take her to the hospital!” She called, tearing through the picked over living room. Rafe and Barry had done a number on the inside of the small house but she managed to spot your keys, the Kildare County High School lanyard sticking out amongst couch cushions. 

While she dug through the house, JJ stayed by your side, hand pressed over your shoulder, trying to apply pressure to the wound and stop the bleeding, staining red. John B opened up the back door of your jeep, pushing your backpack off the seat and grabbing a towel from the trunk to throw down. “JJ,” he turned back to his friend to find JJ practically shaking as he sat there, over you, “JJ, we need to get her in the back seat.” 

JJ nodded his head vigorously as he tried to stand up, stumbling back the first time and catching himself on the ground, bloodied hands sticking to grass and dirt. His whole body was shaking and you were lying there, half-conscious but too out of it to respond to anything, eyes flickering shut as JJ and John B lifted you. The movement jostled you and you screamed at the shock of it.  

“Shit! Careful John B!” JJ cursed, unable to do much else for you.

“I’m doing the best I can!” John B snapped.  

Everything felt like it was moving in autopilot for JJ, all his focus was on you and he was completely positive that if he stopped for even a second, he would collapse. Since his feet hit the ground beneath the tree every thought in his mind had been you.  

They were careful of your shoulder as they loaded you in, JJ climbing into the backseat of your jeep and guiding you to lay over his lap. You groaned again as he grabbed your arm, keeping you on your back when you tried to roll over. He leaned down, kissing your forehead and promising, quietly, that everything was going to be okay.  

“I got the keys!” Sarah shouted, holding them up as she ran to the car. “I got the keys!” 

The drive to the hospital felt like a blur. You weren’t even entirely sure that Sarah stopped at any of the stop signs that you knew you were on the road. JJ kept his hand on your shoulder the entire time, though somewhere along the way you stopped feeling it.  

You couldn’t remember it, and when you were finally lucid enough to remember anything at all no one mentioned it, but the minute you were pushed behind the doors, away from the waiting room, JJ lost it. He’d spent the whole ride shaking like a leaf and as they wheeled you away it was everything John B could do to keep his best friend in the waiting room. He had his arms around JJ’s shoulders and he almost lifted him off the ground trying to keep him away.  

“JJ! She’s gonna be okay.” Sarah said, grabbing at his arm as he pulled out of John B’s hold. As he broke away, JJ punched the wall by the door, shouting ‘fuck’ at the top of his lungs and alerting the desk nurse to the three of them. No one told you, later on, that JJ had punched the wall though you noticed his bandaged hand, and no one told you that two security guards had to escort him outside until he could cool down.  

John B stayed in the waiting room while Sarah followed JJ outside. The security guards left him at a bench and Sarah knelt down in front of him, putting a hand on his knee to try and calm him down, or ground him as much as possible. “Hey, the doctors are doing everything they can JJ and it’s going to be okay. They said that the bullet didn’t hit anything major.”  

“I can’t...” he breathed out, covering his face with his hands, “I don’t...what do I do if she isn’t?”

“She will be, Jay.” Sarah replied, “I think though...I think we should call Shoupe and tell him what happened.”

“Fucking Rafe man...it doesn’t even matter. Shoupe didn’t do shit about Gavin and he’s not doing anything about Peterkin...he’s not gonna give a fuck about this either.”  

“You don’t know that.”  

By the time you did wake up, Kiara and Pope had come back from the HMS, huddled in the corner of the waiting room with John B and Sarah, whispering with each other about what had happened and checking every few seconds that JJ, who was pacing back and forth, wearing out a rug near the nurses’ station. He was the first one back to see you when the nurse finally came out to tell them that you were awake. JJ was shaking worse than he had in the car. Kiara had found a clean shirt of his in the back of her SUV, the old one tossed in a trash can in the men’s bathroom when Pope suggested changing so he didn’t totally freak you out.  

And you, JJ felt like his heart was pounding up into his throat when he walked into the hospital room and saw you laying there in bed, hooked up to IVs and only half lucid because of the morphine that they were giving you. But you gave him that sleepy smile you did in the mornings when you slept over at John B’s with him and the shaking in his hands started to subside as he dragged a chair over and sat down next to you.  

“Hey,” you whispered, voice hoarse from being intubated during surgery.  

All the promises that he’d whispered in the car, that Sarah had supplied him with as they sat up and waited all night, they were true. You were awake and you’d be okay and he was gonna nail Rafe to the wall for this...but maybe for now he’d just sit with you and remember how to breath.  

“Hey.”

[yourheartonfire]

A continuation of this little Halloween snippet here.

A mere 35 minutes later, they were pulling up to the sound of laughter and soft music. The human's costume had been supplemented with some artful rips in their cheap velour, and a thick white blindfold over their eyes. They'd balked at this but the vampire insisted. "It will be safer for you if you do not see anyone's face, or where you are," they explained with a surprising directness. "And it will obscure your features as well."

The human grumbled but allowed the vampire to secure it tightly. The last few minutes of the drive were a blind, dizzying series of turns as they climbed the hills over the city. As the driver pulled to a stop, the vampire's hands ghosted over the human, patting hairs into place, tugging the costume smooth over their shoulders. 

"This costume is off the rack - hell, it came in a plastic bag," the human whispered in sudden realization as the engine stopped, as the driver got out. "Is this gonna do for some fancy vampire bash?"

"It won't," the vampire muttered back, the grin back in their voice. "That's the point. Now shut up and act droney."

The limo door swung open and the vampire was already handing them down from the seat to the pavement - no, the carpet - below. For a terrifying moment the vampire let go and they stood alone and blind in front of a house full of monsters. The human cursed themselves for falling for it again, believing a vampire again --

And then the vampire's fingers - cold even through the costume - spread across the small of their back, nudging them forward. The human dropped their head and shuffled along.

It was all too easy to give back in to that mind-meldy feeling; their whole world shrunk down to gentle but firm touches guiding them smoothly up stairs, down stairs, through crowded rooms where somehow no one but their vampire ever touched them. Conversation rose and fell in a sharp-edged buzz as they passed - the human couldn't tell if they were the center of attention or if everyone in this room had a prisoner trailing along on their arm. 

Their vampire was ambling at a casual pace, but clearly had a destination in mind as they did not stop to exchange barbed greetings with anyone. Not until they'd passed through the house and their pace slowed again as they stepped out onto what felt like flagstones. The smell of roses hung heavy in the air. It was good quality, but the human knew artificial scent when they smelled it - and why a vampire party would be drenched in the stuff. They breathed through their mouth so they wouldn't smell the blood that they knew must be everywhere.

"Darling!" floated a voice inches from the human's ear and they startled. The world spun as their vampire swung them - and suddenly they were back on their feet on their vampire's other side, cold fingers gripped around their waist even as the vampire leaned away to exchange air kisses with someone else. "So pleased you made it."

"Roona. Stunning party as always," purred their vampire back. "Love the flowers."

The other vampire chuckled. It sounded like gargling with razor blades. Blindfold be damned, the human could feel the hostess vampire's gaze fall on them like laser sights from a rifle. They kept their head down meekly and squirmed closer to their vampire's side. As part of the act, of course. "And what's this? My hostess gift?"

The human flinched as their vampire's grip tightened. That was going to leave bruises in the morning. "Oh, my dear, you must forgive me for bringing my own refreshments," the vampire crooned. "But at my age, I really needed a less fattening diet, so I've gone vegan." The vampire's squeeze lifted the human off their feet. "This is my vegan."

"Hm. And what charming costumes," the other vamp said, in the same tone of voice one might use to point out cat vomit on the rug. "Well. Don't let me keep you from Himself upstairs. He's expecting you."

The human could feel their vampire go uncannily still. Automatically they staggered dramatically on the flat ground. The vampire quickly caught them, the motion snapping them back to themselves.

"Ah! Of course!" they said. "What an honor. But I think my guest here may need a quick pick me up first. You have something I might, ahem...?"

"Certainly!" crooned the other vamp. "Refuse my hospitality and then by all means demand food for your blood bag! Broth, chocolate, peanut butter sandwiches are in the kitchen."

"You're a doll, Roona. Love you!" Another air kiss and they were away across the grass, into darker and emptier shadows. 

The human shoved their blindfold up to glare. "Who is 'Himself'?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," the vampire said a bit sheepishly, hurrying them along. "Not if everything goes to plan!"

"Oh god what have you done?" the human said, just as the vampire pressed a cold finger to their temple. They yelped as images pressed into their mind - a layout of the house, a dark servant's hallway, a painting hiding a safe that opened to the combo 32 R 7 L 18...

Footsteps crunched nearby and the vampire swept the human into their arms, teeth grazing over their neck.

"I'll leave you in the kitchens while I head upstairs," the vampire whispered, holding the human close as their mind reeled. "You'll slip away, crack the safe, and be back where I left you like a good little drone while I have an alibi provided by He Himself. It's the perfect crime!"

"I hate you so much," the human gasped, arching in fake ecstasy from the pretend bite. And damn if there wasn't a part of them that wanted this to be real... "I want half the take. On top of what you promised!"

"25 percent, and I get you out alive," the vampire chuckled darkly in the human's ear. The human shivered, but gripped the vampire's face, pushing them back. "Half," they said. "And I consider maybe, possibly, ever seeing you again after tonight." 

The vampire blinked in the dim moonlight. The human held their ground and their glare.

"Fine," the vampire said finally, with a petulant big eyeroll. "If you must. Though I have to tell you you'll die before you spend it all."

"That sounds like a me problem," the human said, pulling their blindfold firmly down again and taking a deep breath to control their sudden racing heart. "Let's go rob some vampires."

[stunningly-lesbian]

So, poppa actually means grandfather, not father! But I love the reactions this story got, and I've had a rough few days so I want to write a little more about him.

I posted that story because for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about him. It turns out that day, my poppa got a chest infection. He went downhill very quickly, but hung on until all his family could come back and say goodbye. He passed away on the 8th of August.

I feel like I just want to emphasise just how incredible this man really was. As I've said above, he had the heart of a grifter, and a way of making everyone around him feel special - which meant they'd often do anything for him. Even in his 90s or 100s (in a classic conman move, he never gave an "official" birth date to anyone, not even his family), he could still charm anyone. All the nurses that looked after him later in life called him "dadu" and came in outside their shifts just to spend time with him.

During partition (most likely as a teenager), he used his charm to save multiple lives, and risked death himself. Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs were set against each other by the British government, and he once had to hide himself in a prayer rug when a group of men came into his mosque and killed everyone as they prayed. After that, he told his entire family to stay inside. But he went out to gather food. People tried to kill him. He told them "today you'll kill me. Tomorrow one of my people might kill you. All that does is let our families grow hungry". And he survived.

On these journeys, he found all the Muslims he could, and gathered them together. Once, he was asked by an imam to prove he was a Muslim before following him. Naturally, he decided the best form of proof was physical, so he pulled off his dhoti and showed this 80something imam his dick. Somehow, that worked 😂 When he gathered all the survivors together, he put his brother on his shoulders and led them to an Indian military camp to wait out the violence of partition before moving to Pakistan.

He charmed the INDIAN MILITARY during PARTITION into protecting a group of poor Muslim villagers. For three months.

He also fought for the women in his community. When he knew forced marriages were about to occur, he'd warn the girls. He even helped them elope with the boyfriends they'd hidden. If he couldn't warn them in time, he'd stand outside the doors of the mosque with an old police baton and refuse to let anyone inside until the marriage was cancelled - his favourite threat translates to "I've covered this in chilli oil and I'll shove it up your ass"

One of my favourite things about these really difficult last few days has been listening to the women in my family. He gave them so much love, so much confidence in themselves. He made them proud to be Muslim, proud to be Desi, proud to be women, in 1950s England. And he did that through loving them, and teaching them they were worthy of love. As I grew up, he did the same for me. He was a shameless misandrist and openly gave women twice as much money, food, and gifts as men. Because he knew it was a hard world for us. And he knew we needed a little something extra, something to make us feel special.

At most of our funerals, women aren't allowed to see the body buried. But the community insisted that, for him, the rules should be bent for one last time. So for the first time in my city I, my mother, and the women who loved him got to say goodbye. And the imam, who he constantly fought against, had to grit his teeth and bear it, because this man was so beloved.

He was quiet, intelligent, and kind. He loved poetry. He taught me how to drink Southern Comfort and swear in Punjabi. He had a grifters heart, and he absolutely grifted his way into this country. But he used his skills for good. He died poor, but I've never known and never will know a more loving, loved man.

Goodbye, Miraj din Dogar. I love you beyond words.

إِنَّا لِلَّهِ وَإِنَّآ إِلَيْهِ رَٰجِعُونَ

i just learned about a scam in the 1960s where the crux of the scam was filling barrels with water and topping it off with a layer of vegetable oil. so when inspectors opened the barrels they thought it was 100% oil, which the scammer would use as collateral for loans. genius shit

[jadegrey711]

Snow Covered Dream

Eric Northman x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello my loves so I got this request for a soft Eric Northan what feels like eons ago, and I’m finally feeling some inspiration for it. It’s been particularly hard for me for this one since when i originally started writing for it I had a good thing going and while I was an my ipad i rotated it and somehow deleted everything I had. So this is attempt number two for this one. I hope you guys like it and if you could show it some love! And to the sweet person who sent this request in I really hope you think it’s worth the wait. 

Prompt: Hey can I send a request in for Eric Northman x reader please? Could you maybe do one where him and the reader have been seeing each other for some time now and then they have sex for the first time and it’s really sweet and the reader lets eric bite her for the first time and they just realise how much they love each other, if not don’t worry about it! Thank you, love your writing!

*NOT MY GIF. ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

Word Count: 3212  Holy fuck this became it’s own novel. I think this is the most I’ve ever written for something like this. Fuck i hope it’s not shit 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

Warnings: 18+ people. Oral (f recieving), mentions of blowjobs, Tantric sex (if you squint), vaginal sex 

Song Inspiration: 

Best Part - Daniel Caesar, H.E.R

Morning View - Towkio, SZA

Looking Through your Eyes - LeAnn Rimes

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

This isn’t the first time that Eric has stolen you away for some kind of romantic adventure. He’s been around for a thousand years and there’s just so many places he wants to show you; places you’ve never even heard of and spots that feel like no other human has laid a foot there before. 

However, this adventure felt different, like when it was over Eric wasn’t planning on letting you go; like he planned to keep you and you couldn’t find anything bad about that. 

“Eric are you ever going to tell me where we are going?” You smiled, seeing the mischievous smirk on his lips. 

“We are already here, sötma.” he stated and you swore his smile got wider, as you quickly whipped your head back towards the window to see if you could finally see your destination. But only found the same endless snowy expanse out your window. 

“Where?” 

“This is all of my property. It’s not huge but just a bit further up this road there’s a little house I keep for when I want to truly get away from everything.”

You waited for a few more minutes keeping your eyes peeled out the window for any sign of the house and then suddenly just out in the distance you saw a spot of bright red. You felt your excitement grow as you watched the house steadily come into view. That spot of bright red growing until you could finally see the whole house; a bright red one that was nestled right in the middle of the property surrounded by what looked like a small farm house and hidden away by the snow covered pine trees that surrounded it.To put it in a word it looked magical.  

“Do you like it sötma?” Eric asked, turning his head just enough to gauge your reaction. 

“Oh Eric! It’s so beautiful! It’s like a snow covered dream.” You said wistfully and then pulled your focus from the car window to Eric and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. 

Eric hummed his satisfaction. “I’m so glad you like it. This is one of my favorite places and I thought I might share it with one of my favorite people. I can’t wait to show you the rest of the house, I think you’ll really enjoy it.” 

“I’m sure I will.” You beamed at him and took his hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. “I’m never disappointed with anything you show me Eric.” 

Eric said nothing at your praise, but simply took your hand that was holding his and pressed a few kisses to your knuckles, before taking your wrist and kissing the palm of your hand; sending a flush of warmth through you despite the endless cold outside the car. 

When Eric pulled up in front of the house, you immediately got out of the car and stepped out onto the fresh snow just to marvel at the bright red house. The way the snow was settled perfectly on the tops of the roof and on the pine trees that surrounded the house it looked like the perfect christmas card. 

“How come you never told me you lived in a Hallmark movie?” You asked turning back to face Eric who had both your bag and his slung under each arm. 

“I don’t. It’s just Sweden. Everything looks like a Hallmark movie here in winter.” he chuckled as the both of you walked towards the large wooden front door. Eric easily maneuvered the bags in his hands to pull out the small set of keys and quickly unlocked the front door, letting you both into the house and out of the cold of the outside. However, there wasn’t much relief from the cold inside the house either. 

You started to shiver as you made your way to the center of the cold house, clutching your jacket tighter to your body. 

Eric looked over and saw you shivering and immediately took off his jacket and put it on top of your shoulders. “I’ll get a fire going in a second sötma.For right now I want you to sit here.” He said as he pulled your shivering body into a main sitting room where a very large fireplace sat on the far wall. 

Eric sat you down on the plush sofa that laid in front of the fireplace and you clutched his jacket tighter to your body as you watched Eric get the fire going with his quick and efficient hands. 

**

Hours later after you and Eric unpacked your things and both of you had your dinner. You found yourself sitting in Eric’s lap on a fur rug in front of that luxurious fire. The feeling of the fire warming your skin and the feel of Eric underneath you as he stroked her hair lovingly, warmed more than just your skin; you felt your heart and soul warm from the contentment that you felt in this moment.

As content as you were though in this moment you knew that you wanted more. You wanted more from Eric than just his soft kisses and loving caresses, you weren’t a fool you knew the reputation that surrounded Eric when you started seeing him. 

Ruthless killer and slayer of hearts but that wasn’t the side he presented you with everyday nor was it something he tried hiding from you. It wasn’t something that you felt like he needed to hide anyway. Everyone has shit in their past and in Eric’s case he’s got a whole mountain range of shit he’s got to deal with from his past but he’s grown and you’ve seen that growth. Hell. You being here wrapped safely in his arms in some remote house in god knows where Sweden should be proof enough of that growth; of the trust you place in him. So much so that you feel confident enough to pull from his soft touches and look at him in those blazing glacier eyes. 

You let out a small breath, and reached out your hand, cupping his face before you pulled him slowly in for a soft lingering kiss. Eric hummed his approval against your lips and then you took him by surprise as you tilted your head slightly and deepened the kiss, your tongue playfully dipping in his mouth and tangling with his.

You smiled against Eric’s lips as you heard him let out a low growl, his strong hands that were at his side, coming up to grab your hips bringing you closer to his body. You let out a low gasp as Eric pressed you closer to his body and you felt just how hard he was for you already. 

You pulled your sweet lips away from Eric’s smirking as you heard him softly whisper “No.” when you pulled away. But you or your lips didn’t go far. You pulled away just enough that you were still most definitely in kissing range. 

Eric watched you as you placed your small hands on his strong chest, letting you control every action and determining just how far this night was going to go. He loved it when you were brave for him, with him, taking control and taking what you want from him. He’s waited for this moment for so long but one word from you and he would go jump in the endless snow outside and quickly cure himself of his raging hard on.

Your hands continued their leisurely journey down Eric’s chest until you got to the hem of his shirt. You looked back up at Eric’s face, as if you were asking permission. He nodded and your fingers brushed the skin underneath his shirt and gasped at how cold he was. But you didn’t let that deter you one bit as you grabbed the hem of the shirt and lifted it up and over his head; with Eric’s help of course. And then your hands were all over his bare chest starting back up at his strong shoulders, then trailing down his chest your fingers stop over where his heart is; and feeling a certain sadness that you wouldn’t feel it’s steady beat under your touch. 

Eric seemed to sense what you were feeling and grabbed your chin making you look up at him. “Your heart is big enough that it beats for the both of us, sötma.” he whispered lovingly before placing a kiss on your lips and letting your chin go so you can continue with your exploration. 

You leaned down and placed a kiss to that spot on his chest, biting your lip when you heard Eric’s little gasp. Your hands went down feeling his hard abs and then those delicious hip “v’s” that you so desperately needed to run your tongue over but maybe later tonight. You looked back up at Eric’s face and grabbed one of his massive hands; Eric watched intently as you flipped his hand over and started to lovingly trace the lines there. 

Eric couldn’t help himself any longer the same hand that you so lovingly traced he used to cup your cheek, and traced your lips with his thumb. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are to me?” He asked as he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head leaving your chest bare to him. 

You felt your cheeks flush. “No. I don’t think you’ve ever told me before. Why don’t you count the ways.” You giggled and let out a little squeal as Eric flipped the both of you over so your back was to the soft fur rug and he was sprawled out on top of you. 

“You’re such a little shit you know that?” He smirked as he leaned down and kissed a spot at your chest, giving it a little suck. Making whatever little smart comment you were about to say dissolve from your mind as you felt Eric ladden your body with open mouth kisses. First to your neck and then your collarbones and then to the spot right where your heart was. 

“Eric.” his name falling from your mouth in a breathy whisper. 

His hair tickled your face as he kissed lower and you let out a gasp as his tongue swirled around your nipple, making your back arch from the surprise of it. 

“So sensitive.” he chided and you felt a gush of warmth spread between your thighs at his words. Before you watched him bring that nipple into his mouth and give it a light suck before he went to do the same to the other. “I wonder where else you're sensitive.” He purred as you felt his lips brush reverently against the bottom of your breasts before continuing his journey to where you were most sensitive. 

You tangled your hands in his hair as he reached your pants and he held your gaze as he undid each of the buttons, making you smile as he lifted your hips up and pulled your pants completely off, leaving you completely bare to him. 

“Oh, Y/N.” He purred as he admired your naked body sprawled out in front of him on his fur rug looking like a norse goddess. “Every part of you is a gift.” He said as he grabbed one of your legs and placed soft kisses there before doing the same to the other. He loved how sprawled out you were for him like a feast all for him. 

“Eric.” You moaned out his name again as you watched him settle himself between your legs, his strong shoulders keeping you spreaded out for him as you watched as he took his index finger and ran it down your slit making you gasp. You watched eagerly as he placed that finger in his mouth and sucked on it. 

“Just as sweet as I knew you’d be, baby.” He smirked and then you felt his tongue flick up your folds before swirling around your clit making your hips buck up into his face. 

You watched as Eric swiveled his head side to side and elicited more moans from you each one getting louder and louder as he sucked your clit and he fucked you with his tongue. Your fingers alternated between burying themselves in Eric’s soft hair to gripping the fur rug behind you as you watched Eric devour you. 

As you felt your orgasm climb you started to writhe under Eric but he easily placed his strong arm over you stomach keeping you under his delicious torture. “Eric, baby I’m gonna come.” You moaned, feeling like you were going to fall over the edge any second. 

“Go ahead baby, come for me. Let me see how pretty you look when you fall apart.” He purred before he added his fingers and crooked them inside you and you fell apart. Eric ate you out through your orgasm letting you ride that wave of pleasure until you finally went limp under him. 

You watched with shaky breaths as Eric pulled away from you giving your clit a kiss before smiling up at you. “I don’t know how I’ll ever get enough of this sweet pussy, sötma.” he said before climbing up and kissing you deeply letting you taste yourself. 

“Are you ready for me, sötma?” He asked and then you felt his strong fingers rub against your soaked folds before he entered you feeling how wet you were for him. “Oh yeah, I think you’re ready for me.” He smiled, kissing you again before standing up and unbuttoning his pants before quickly discarding them.  

He looked like a god from this angle, all strong and hard muscles as he loomed over you, his hard cock springing to his stomach. You’d never been particularly fond of blowjobs mainly because of how your past lovers would grab your head and try to force you down more. But you didn’t feel that Eric you wanted to be at his knees lavishing him with pleasure while he stroked your head lovingly gifting you with lavish praises about how good you were for him.

Maybe another night. You thought to yourself. 

Eric knelt back down till he was sprawled back over you and proceeded to ladden you with soft open mouth kisses, his hands massaging your breasts until you could feel the need between your legs grow until it was too much; you needed Eric now. 

“Eric, please.” You moaned breathily. 

“Are you sure you want me now? We have all night, baby.” He said, kissing your neck again. “Maybe you let me play with that pussy for another hour and then I’ll fuck you.” 

You felt you center throb at the thought at what kind of pleasure could pull from you in an hour; not still not fuck you. 

“No. I want you Eric. I need you inside me now. Please.” You whispered in his ear earning a low growl from him. 

“Well, there’s no way I can deny such a pretty girl when she’s begging for me.”  He hummed and you felt his hard length press up against your folds. “This what you want from me?” He asked, knowing full well, that’s exactly what you wanted. 

“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me?” you gasped feeling Eric’s hard length press deeper into you, letting you get used to him as he stretched you out for him. 

“Oh baby you’ve got such a mouth on you. I can’t wait to see it wrapped around my cock. I just know you’d look so pretty on your knees for me.” He purred as he slid home, making you moan in his ear as he pressed close to your body,to your warmth. 

Eric kept his pace slow letting you get used to his invasion but also to leave you breathless and wanting under him. He knows what you want; that you want him to pound into you and he will have no worry about that. He can’t wait to hear the lewd sounds of your wet pussy as he drives into you over and over until you scream his name. But right now he wants to draw this out, really feel each part of you and then he’ll pound into your aching pussy. 

“Eric, please.” you breathed out, your nails gripping his back as he kept his pace slow and sensual, making you writhe beneath him. 

“Please what? Sötma.” 

“Harder.” You begged. 

Eric chuckled against your skin. “I just can’t deny you anything can I?” He asked, looking at your face. 

“Please Eric.” 

“Alright, baby.” He said and before you knew it, Eric pulled out of you and brought his hands under your back and brought you up to his until you were straddling him and just as quickly as he pulled out of you, did he plunge himself back into your wet folds; setting a brutal pace as he fucked up into you. 

You let out a scream of pleasure as your hands wrapped around Eric and held him close as he fucked you. 

“Is this what you want, baby?” 

“Yes.” You whimpered, kissing Eric’s neck and sucked at the spot where his shoulder and neck meet earning a low groan from him. 

“Oh Eric!” You moaned, your nails gripping onto his back. “I-I I’m going to come.” 

“Come for me sötma. Grip me with that tight little pussy of yours.” He growled as he drove into you harder and you felt yourself go supernova as your orgasm racked your body. Eric held you tight, slowing his pace down just enough to let you ride through your orgasm. 

After a few seconds though you felt Eric’s pace quicken again and to your surprise his quickening pace was building you up to another orgasm. 

“Eric. I don’t think I can survive another one.” You moaned, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Eric tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled enough to bring your face to his. 

“You can and you will baby. I want to feel you squeeze my cock again, with that beautiful pussy.” He growled and kissed you, his hand leaving your hair to snake between your bodies and rub small circles on your oversensitive clit and you gasped into his kiss as you felt your orgasm crash over you as Eric held you close to him, as he chased his own end. 

“Fuck! I love you so much, Y/N.” He screamed as his own orgasm crashed over him, holding you closer to his body as he fell back down onto the soft fur rug underneath him. 

As you laid on top of Eric trying to calm your breathing and find your equilibrium again. Eric’s fingers found your hair again and stroked it lovingly. 

“I love you too ya know?” You smiled and kissed his chest. “And not just for the sex. Although I could definitely get used to that.” You laughed.

“You are trouble.” He said, scrunching his nose at you before bringing your lips to his in another searing kiss. 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo, m | myg

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

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

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

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

--

Your lungs were being crushed.

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

You cracked one eye open.

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

“Get off.”

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

“I’m going to die.”

Your cat meowed in your face.

“Shut the fuck up. Get off.”

He yawned.

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

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

Your cat gave zero fucks.

You were still petting him. Sigh.

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

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

“You alright, little guy?”

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

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

The cat’s response was headbutting your calf.

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

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

Shooky it was.

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

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

He gave you a disapproving meow.

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

He was very displeased.

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

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

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

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

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

Sigh.

-

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

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

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

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

This was for your cat, remember.

Yes, binging shows on Netflix was for your cat.

The weirdest thing was…

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

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

What a needy drama queen.

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

Who are we kidding?

You’d settle for a simple good dicking.

Well, there was that one time.

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

Positive reinforcement, right?

Annnnnnnd then…

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

“Urk!”

“Oh, fu–”

All seven kilos right between your shoulder blades. Oof.

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

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

Creep.

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

Eventually, you stopped bringing men over.

One, because Shooky. Two, because worldwide pandemic.

Sigh.

-

The night that changed everything was ordinary.

Too ordinary.

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

Idea of season five? Awesome.

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

Execution? Eh… could be better.

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

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

At the moment, you weren’t reading shit.

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

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

You couldn’t respond.

Shooky was awake.

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

Pfft.

Your cat was awake.

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

He walked all over your keyboard.

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

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

Your internet browser was open.

A video was playing on a mysterious website.

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

There was no volume.

Your cat tilted his head at the screen, curious.

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

COULD WISHES REALLY BE GRANTED?

Your cat tilted his head the other way.

Your cat didn’t know Korean.

… Right?

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

Zzz.

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

Make a wish, any wish!

Your cat closed his eyes and appeared to be asleep.

The video turned black and disappeared into purple sparkles.

Your internet browser unexpectedly closed.

-

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

“Fuck…”

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

“Fuck!”

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

Pandemic.

Sigh.

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

Speaking of cat.

“Shooky?”

No meow.

Huh.

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

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

“FUCK!”

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

Pfft.

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

Seemed sufficient.

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

You heard a deep, raspy voice call your name.

“Hmm?”

You looked in the mirror.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

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

The voice called your name again, quietly.

Nervously.

Your eyes widened, staring into the mirror in shock.

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

Also.

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

You spat all over your mirror in shock.

“Urk–!”

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

You froze.

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

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

It was…

Familiar?

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

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

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

The cat ears on his head twitched.

“Uh…”

You blinked at him, watching the ears.

“Do… I know you?”

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

No way.

What?

No.

This wasn’t possible.

You’re drunk, high, or in purgatory.

(You did have sex before marriage.)

“S… Shooky?” you croaked.

The man took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Actually, my name is Min Yoongi.”

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

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

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

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

“Ow, what the fuck!”

Oh.

Oh my God.

OhmyfuckingGodthey’reattachedtohishead.

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

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

You saw a glimpse of a pale chest.

Your eyes widened into the size of saucepans.

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

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

Your jaw went even more slack.

“Cats… have names?” you squeaked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know why I’m a man.”

One of his eyebrows raised. Then Yoongi smirked.

An open-mouthed, amused smirk.

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

-

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

"They're stretchy?" you suggested timidly. 

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

"It could work?"

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

You gave him a blank look. "Huh?"

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

Oh.

Right. 

He had a dick.

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

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

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

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

Awkward.

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

Unfortunately…

He knew you considered permanently removing his nuts. Yikes.

Sorry, Shooks. Er, Yoongi. 

In any case!

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

Seven kilos turned into... him?

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

"I have this–"

"No."

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

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

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

Oh.

Er, right, so…

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

You had to put your cat in the bathroom.

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

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

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

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

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

You sure as hell didn’t.

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

Now you regretted it.

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

“Your body still looks great though.”

“… Urk?”

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

“Wait, that’s illegal.”

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

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

Shit.

“You missed a spot.”

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

“Right here.”

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

“… Noona.”

You started and fell over.

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

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

“You alright?”

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

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

Back to copious sexual tension complemented by paint fumes.

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

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

“It looks fine like this.”

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

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

“Couple hours, at least.”

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

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

Uh oh.

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

“Let me just… put this down…”

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

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

You spun around, cheeks flushed, sputtering.

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

“Jeon J-Jungkook!”

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

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

Your eyes widened, staring at him in shock.

“J… Jungkook…”

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

“Yeah?”

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

“… Noona?”

This man was illegal.

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

Someone should call the police. Or an ambulance.

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

But not for you.

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

Yikes.

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

“I… washed it?” you offered weakly.

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

The color drained from your face.

Well.

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

Respectfully, of course.

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

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

He made you scream.

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

Jungkook had made you moan for hours.

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

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

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

Too bad life doesn’t have an undo button.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… noona?”

Respectfully.

“Fuck!”

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

A quiet, disapproving meow below you.

A master yikes.

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

Yoongi pursed his lips.

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

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

Silence.

A crow cawed in the distance.

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

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

“I’ll just… buy a variety…”

“Or you could measure.”

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

“Are you a pervert?”

“N… no!”

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

Yoongi sighed, finally releasing his hold on the duvet.

“Ugh, so stuffy…”

His long black tail whipped about.

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

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

He was naked.

Really naked.

Very, one hundred percent, naked.

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

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

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

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

-

"I can't wear these."

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

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

Dark eyebrows raised. 

"Decency!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Put the pants on, you animal!"

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

Yoongi planted himself on top of you nimbly.

You froze.

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

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

His bare calves.

"Are you dumb?"

"What?" you croaked in response.

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

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

"This."

Thump.

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

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

His naked inner thigh.

You let out a noise between shock and confusion.

"Urk?"

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

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

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

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

No. No, never mind that. Yeah.

Never.

Mind.

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

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

Awesome.

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

Your head snapped back at the force, arms flailing.

"Mmphf!"

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

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

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

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

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

You growled and hauled yourself up.

-

An hour later, your cat was dressed.

Cat?

Man?

Whatever.

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

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

Sigh.

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

Yoongi had raised an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

All your settings were wack.

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

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

You looked up.

Oh.

Oh?

Oh!

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

He was… handsome.

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

You blinked at him. “What?”

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

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

-

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

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

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

Is this real life?

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

As we all know.

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

-

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

“I’m hungry.”

You gawked at him.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a human too!”

“No, I am a cat.”

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

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

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

“Ow!”

“Feed me.”

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

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

“Fine.”

-

You both stared at the bowl of dry cat food.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

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

“That’s your problem.”

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

-

This was too much.

You know what you did when it was too much?

You took a nap.

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

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

“Awesome. I’m taking a nap.”

And you passed out.

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

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

“Urk…!”

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

What, wait?

“Gah!”

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

UNDER THE DUVET.

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

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

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

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

Yoongi raised his head, squinting down at you.

You froze.

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

And.

You suddenly remembered he was a man.

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

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

What’s the difference?

The difference???

You’re a man!

A HOT MAN!!!

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

“You… You used to be over the duvet…”

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

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

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

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

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true.”

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

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

Like this?

From now on?

Oh. Oh no.

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

-

part ii

--

masterpost

[poguestvff]

LIKE A BIG SISTER SHOULD — WHEEZIE CAMERON

in which wheezie cameron finds that blood doesn’t make you family, love and affection does.

taglist | masterlist | 2.5k words | @pogueslandia ,

warning(s): food, she/her pronouns, ward slander, a little sarah slander but that’d include reading between the lines. why’d this make me want to make a series of reader and Wheezie being best friends.

There's always been a heavy feeling of loneliness that rested upon the youngest cameron's shoulders, weighing her down as it seemed to pile over the years. Her siblings were always older, an age gap between them that even if it was shortened by a few years, their worlds would still be two different things. All three of them were in three different stages of life yet somehow it felt like Wheezie wasn't even there at times.

Throughout the entirety of her schooling career so far, everything had somehow been about Rafe and Sarah. Sarah was the perfect one; the paragon who could do no wrong. Even if Sarah tried to disobey, it'd be turned around to be made out as a minute mistake. She'd probably be able to get away with it a second time if she did it a different way. Maybe the same way.

Rafe was quite the opposite. The bastard child who needed a plentiful amount of attention in hopes he can be more like the paragon. With all this attention, his head only grew. It never gave him the space for growth. It minimized the space to stay exactly where he was for years on end.

This left Wheezie to be the ostracized sibling. She wasn't a social butterfly or a poster child like Sarah and she definitely wasn't a loner or the 'damaged goods' child like Rafe. She was just... average. With average grades and an average personality. Just average old Wheezie. She told herself this consistently, watching her father balance his attention between making sure Rafe stayed between the lines he'd drawn for him in a radius such as a dart board and allowing Sarah step out of them, even erasing some of the lines so she could walk on by them without a second thought.

But Wheezie was stuck in that tiny little circle in the middle, the bullseye as if scared to move out of those lines. The one place that was the hardest to pinpoint specifically by her father. But there was one thing Ward Cameron always said correct about his younger daughter. That he wouldn't be able to pin point his little dart of control into the middle of the board because she was misunderstood and misunderstood she was.

Though one person had been able to pick up on every single one of Wheezie's emotions.

Y/n Y/L/N was a pogue who had done tutoring on the side for a little extra money and when John B had recommended Y/n for help with Wheezie's homework, Ward was quick to say okay. He hardly even asked a thing about Y/n, just telling her to help Wheezie pass eighth grade and that was all. It was made very apparent to Y/n that was Wheezie was not as much of a priority to Ward as other things were.

Their first tutoring session, Wheezie was awfully dismissive. She didn't care for any of Y/n's efforts as they sat within the comfort of Wheezie's bedroom. She just wanted the entire hour to be over with the second she'd entered her room but Y/n was insistent, knowing that by the end of the school year she would have something instilled in Wheezie's brain. She just didn't know what that something was yet.

The second time they met, Y/n was more passive aggressive in hopes of breaking down the brick walls Wheezie had stored between her and everyone else in hopes of not disappointing them like the way she thought she'd disappointed her father. Y/n sat her down in her desk chair, swiveling her chair to her as she rested her hands on the younger girls shoulders. "You are going to have a really awkward couple of weeks if you and i don't become friends so no work today. We're playing 20 questions."

That night, Y/n learned a lot about Wheezie Cameron that she never thought she'd learned. Wheezie hated the color purple, she just painted her room that color because Sarah liked that color. Wheezie loved to paint and to draw, it was her favorite activity, she just rarely showed it bevause she hadn't believed in herself. Though, when she showed Y/n the canvas' that were shoved at the back of the closet, Y/n marveled at them. But Y/n's favorite fact, and the same one that almost made her hug Wheezie on the spot, was that she was never taught to swim and Y/n made her a promise that she would teach her.

As the weeks went by, Wheezie waiting anticipatingly for Y/n's beaten down, green ford bronco to pull up on the driveway and she'd leave the house with a giant smile on her face. It’d be early in the morning, a little less than an hour until school started, just like how Wheezie liked. She'd jump in the driver seat, embracing the smell of vanilla from the scented item hanging from the rear view mirror. She’d toss her bag to the back as Y/n would ruffle her hair, just like she had every morning. "And beloved was set in... late 1856!" Wheezie answered excitedly as Y/n drove down the final street towards her school after the two had gotten breakfast together.

"Perfect! You're gonna do so good on your test, Wheeze, I promise." Y/n told her ecstatically as she pulled into a parking space. Just before Wheezie could get out, Y/n held her upper arm just to gain her attention before she got out. "Tell Rose she doesn't have to get you after school. I'll leave school early and you and I are having a girls day. No studying, just me, you and a shit ton of sweets."

Wheezie smiled, she could feel the muscles in her jaw begin to hurt from how wide she had. She tilted her head to the side out of curiosity, eyeing the look of excitement on Y/n's face. "But why?"

Y/n shrugged, adjusting in her seat and fixing her rear view mirror. "Cause, you deserve it. I'm so proud of you, Little W." She told her, looking back towards the girl and seeing her smile slightly drop. "You okay?"

Wheezie couldn't remember a time where she was genuinely told that. Yeah, sure, Ward said it a few times but it'd be in a lousy tone before he'd wave her off, saying he was busy with whatever office work he had to attend to. Sarah may have said it a few times but it was rushed before she'd run after her friends with a quick goodbye to Wheeze, leaving her alone in the sand. It was never sincere. Not in the way Y/n had said it.

She rubbed her hands against her jean clad thighs with a sharp breath before nodding. “Yeah. I've just never really been told that before. Like—Like genuinely." She said, lowly, in hopes Y/n would understand and wouldn't push it.

Y/n had known Wheezie long enough to know her tells and avoiding eye contact was one of the biggest ones. So she didn't indulge further in the conversation, brushing it under the rug but knowing she'd have to go diving back in for that little tidbit later on. Instead she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug from over the console. "I'll tell you i'm proud of you everyday if i have to." Y/n muttered before kissing the top of her head. "Now go, if you're late to first period, your dad will kill me." And Wheezie was able to leave the car with a smile on her face, already looking forward to the day planned later on.

Y/n was overall consistent, it was one thing Wheezie enjoyed knowing that when she made promises she tried to keep them as best as she could. Sometimes things slipped her mind but Wheezie could recognize that Y/n didn't forget a thing when it came to Wheezie. Like she made sure to engrave bits and pieces of her into her mind like a data chart. But it showed she cared and that was enough for Wheezie.

Y/n cared enough that when she entered her car after school, the smell of her favorite cinnabon's filled the car that made her look in the backseat, seeing a picnic basket. There wasn't a chance, right? You could only get them on the mainland. She turned her body swiftly towards the elder girl who sat with a smirk on her face. "You didn't?"

"I did. Second I left fourth period, got on a ferry just for you to have those overly sweet treats." Y/n said, tapping her nose with a 'boop'! "And I almost got stuck on the mainland because of it so you better enjoy the hell out of them."

"I will, I promise." Wheezie said dramatically as Y/n smiled, pulling out of the parking space to head down to the beach. Wheezie had said she didn't have a bathing suit, not prepared for the outing, though Y/n already said she had ransacked her room for clothes for after. Y/n was the only person allowed in Wheezie Cameron's room without Wheezie being there and the elder girl took pride in it.

As Y/n set up their small area for the few hours, she noticed Wheezie standing just where the water and the sand met. She kicked around the water with clear disinterest causing Y/n to huff, hands on her hips, before tossing off her hoodie to get in. The splash she'd made by pushing herself into the water made Wheezie jump, a laugh falling from the two's lips. "Come on." Y/n said, standing and holding her hands out to Wheezie.

"Y/n/n, I can't swim."

"Y/n/n I can't swim, well, obvi, i know that, little W. But, you have your amazing best friend to keep you afloat. I won't let you go, i swear." Y/n said, holding up her pinky.

"Swear?"

"On my life." She reassured with a trusting smile before Wheezie walked further in. When the water had gotten to her above her waist, it'd freaked her out a bit though Y/n talked her through it, coaxing her further in slowly. Wheezie was kept above the water as Y/n held her hands as the buoyancy was used to their advantage. "See, not as bad as you thought?"

Wheezie shook her head though still nervous. "Not as bad, not my thing though."

"Why don't we try actually swimming? I won't force you if you don't want to and we can get back to shore right now but maybe just try?" She asked as Wheezie had to think about it for a moment. She almost felt guilty, remembing just a few months ago when Sarah had asked her if she could teach her but she refused. Though maybe, just maybe, it was because of Y/n being a bit more trust worthy that Wheezie said yes this time.

It took a while, Wheezie was frightened by letting go even as Y/n would say she was okay. Wheezie would tighten her grip on her shoulders before trying again and again until she eventually got it. She finally was able to keep herself above the water without flailing, recognizing that she was okay. Y/n cheered as she watched, not caring for the stares of others around them. "See, dude? You just have to start applying yourself! You did it!"

"I did it!" Wheezie said as Y/n hugged her, the two laughing before Wheezie screamed making Y/n's laughter die fast. "Something touched me!"

"Wheeze, it was seaweed." Y/n said softly before turning and letting her place her hands on her shoulders. "Yeah let's get you out of here before a jellyfish gets you."

Wheezie widened her eyes. "Jellyfish?"

As the sun had began to set and people had packed up their things and left, Y/n and Wheezie stayed. Wheezie was on her fourth doughy treat, even though Y/n told her to slow down two treats ago. Towels were wrapped around each of their shoulders as they watched the pretty colors fade in to one another, a mixture of pink, blue and orange array of colors combining to make a cotton candy sky. Wheezie watched as Y/n got up, accepting a phone call from Ward, the only phone call she hadn't silenced since they'd left the car.

In the time she'd left, Wheezie took advantage of it to recognize how appreciative she was of all that Y/n was doing for her. She came in as a tutor and, to Wheezie, was to stay as a friend. As family. Wheezie was more then ecstatic to have someone who would be there to rant and rave about the other Cameron's, someone she could trust with her secrets and the contents of her always running brain. Someone who was just there.

"Hey, your father would like us back in thirty so we should leave in ten." She said coming back and sitting beside Wheezie as she caught sight of her face, the lack of the smile that was there previously concerning her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Just... I really enjoyed today, Y/n. It really lets me know you're not just here for like... like the money or something."

Y/n let out a scoff. "Are you kidding? I enjoy nothing more than watching you freak out over the existence of jellyfish." She joked as Wheezie pushed her to the side with a laugh. Y/n recovered, letting out a content sigh as she tossed an arm over Wheezie's shoulders. "You're stuck with me now, Wheezes. Can't wait to record you falling at your next soccer game."

Wheezie couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips, leaning into Y/n's embrace as her head rested against her clavicle. "And I'll be looking for you in the stands, Y/n/n."

Y/n and Wheezie had both found out something about the other that night. Wheezie found that she didn't want to be like Sarah and she was glad she wasn't like Rafe. She was content with her own little circle on the dart board but maybe she could take a bit after her newest role model. And Y/n found that she was able to instill several things into the youngers mind including To Kill a Mockingbird, Inca Civilizations, and that she now had a true and present big sister to look up to.

[polymusepotion]

caroline.​

The door is already unlocked when she gets there. Picked, she’s guessing — unless this guy is really that much of an idiot. Nevertheless, by the time Caroline shoulders her way quietly in and peruses the scene before her, she knows that this evening’s job didn’t go quite as planned. If it had, she wouldn’t be here. If it had, she would have gotten a slightly less grumpy text from her boss and she wouldn’t have brought the big bucket of cleaning supplies that is now landing on the ( very bloodstained ) rug with a soft thump. The body ( if it can even be called that anymore ) is still a few feet away, head pulverized in, figure barely recognizable. ❝ Basher indeed. ❞ Caroline mutters to herself as movement catches her attention in the doorframe leading to what she knows is the kitchen ( she’s the one that found the blueprints for the place, and then sweet-talked the contractor into giving her a tour of the newly renovated flat two weeks ago so she could take pictures for the boss ).

Caroline’s gaze starts at his shoes, noting the few blood spatters there and new scuff marks, slowly starting her perusal upwards as she tugs on her daisy patterned cleaning gloves. There’s more blood on his pants, his shirt is ruined beyond what her stain-removal skills can fix. His arms — toned and tanned and just flexed enough that her stomach flutters at the veins there — have several new scratch marks on them. By the time she gets to his face, she already knows the look she’ll get. Exhausted. Grumpy. Tired. And ( when she’s feeling just a bit more delusional and pathetic ) a look that might almost be affection or relief at the sight of her.

❝ Susan called. ❞ Caroline states casually, reaching up to tie her hair back as she steps around the growing blood pool. ❝ Said you haven’t been texting her back. Oh! And I got a new stash of body bags ordered from that guy I know. They’re the good kind, no more leaking this time, I swear. ❞ There’s a disconcerting smear of blood on his throat and it pulls her attention to the taught muscles there for a moment and Caroline swallows. ❝ I take it tonight didn’t go as planned. ❞ Somehow, her eyes have involuntarily traced down the line of his arm, following patterns of ink and settled on the blood on his hands and the few new splits in his knuckles. The now familiar mantra repeats so insistently in her head that she’s worried it might pass through her lips one of these days. Blood isn’t sexy. Her boss covered in blood is not sexy. Blood covering her boss because her boss just killed someone with his bare hands isn’t sexy. ❝ Do you want staged, disappeared, or disposed of just well enough that he’ll be found in a few months and they’ll need dental records? Otherwise I’ve got this new person at the crematorium — she’s super cool, goth but super chic, I’m thinking of trying to set her up with Bonnie — she doesn’t ask questions and she’s very accepting of bribes. ❞ / @polymusepotion + because it’s living rent free in my head and i needed an outlet.

he goes to press his palm to his forehead, something he usually doesn’t even realize he does when he’s exceptionally exhausted. but the sight of the blood covering his hands forces him to stop. fuck, he’s covered in this shit. probably a disgusting sight for his assistant to see. he doesn’t want to scare her -- a foreign concept, for fucking sure -- so he does his best to hold in the growl that wants to roll through his chest and up his throat at the mention of tonight not going as planned. no. it definitely did not go as planned.

any other night, he might be begrudgingly happy to see her. hell, if he’s honest with himself, which he manages only sometimes, he’s happy to see her now. things always feel manageable with her around. it stops feeling like it’s him against everyone else. she, at least, is on his side. he doesn’t understand it. doesn’t deserve it. but he’s the bad guy, so he’s used to being selfish. and with caroline forbes, he’s as selfish as they come. 

her voice, rambling on as she’s wont to do, is a balm to the aches he feels. the stinging cuts on his arms. but with her presence comes a different kind of frustration, one he’s been infuriatingly incapable of putting a name to since she started working for him all those months ago.

when he’s certain he has his temper under control and the headache that’s throbbing behind his eyes suppressed enough he can fucking think, he runs back through all the things she’s said to him. susan. body bags. dispose of body.

“i’m pissed enough, i want to say just fucking burn. it. but that’s not the job. not this time.” still, despite the condition he left the body, they can make this work. “i need to clean my skin from under his nails. and he needs to be divested of my blood.” he looks again at his knuckles. all of these things, these routine procedures, she knows. of course. “but we have to go with staged this time.” she usually knows this stuff, but even he didn’t know until he was in the damn house -- the silent alert part of the reason why tonight didn’t go well. he’d looked down at the alert on his watch when it vibrated, it was a moment of a glance, but when he looked back up, this idiot was standing there, beer halfway to mouth, gaping at him like he couldn’t believe a stranger would be standing in his house. but that’s what happens when you piss off the wrong people.

“you should have let me know you were on your way.” his words are sharper than he means for them to be -- he’s glad she’s here, really. and hell, maybe she did if he missed texts from susan. he’d text caroline to tell her everything was a fucking mess and he never wanted to work for this client a-fucking-gain, but he’d shoved his blood-smeared mobile back in his pocket afterward and tuned everything else out.

his hand goes to his forehead again, and this time he doesn’t think to stop it, smearing more blood across his face. the corner of his mouth tugs a little in an upward curve. “new gloves?”

The door us already unlocked when she gets there. Picked, she's guessing --- unless this guy is really that much of an idiot. Nevertheless, by the time Caroline shoulders her way quietly in and peruses the scene before her, she knows that this evening's job didn't go quite as planned. If it had, she wouldn't be here. If it had, she would have gotten a slightly less grumpy text from her boss and she wouldn't have brought the big bucket of cleaning supplies that is now landing on the ( very bloodstained ) rug with a soft thump. The body ( if it can even be called that anymore ) is still a few feet away, head pulverized in, figure barely recognizable. ❝ Basher indeed. ❞ Caroline mutters to herself as movement catches her attention in the doorframe leading to what she knows is the kitchen ( she's the one that found the blueprints for the place, and then sweet-talked the contractor into giving her a tour of the newly renovated flat two weeks ago so she could take pictures for the boss ).

Caroline's gaze starts at his shoes, noting the few blood spatters there and new scuff marks, slowly starting her perusal upwards as she tugs on her daisy patterned cleaning gloves. There's more blood on his pants, his shirt is ruined beyond what her stain-removal skills can fix. His arms --- toned and tanned and just flexed enough that her stomach flutters at the veins there --- have several new scratch marks on them. By the time she gets to his face, she already knows the look she'll get. Exhausted. Grumpy. Tired. And ( when she's feeling just a bit more delusional and pathetic ) a look that might almost be affection or relief at the sight of her.

❝ Susan called. ❞ Caroline states casually, reaching up to tie her hair back as she steps around the growing blood pool. ❝ Said you haven't been texting her back. Oh! And I got a new stash of body bags ordered from that guy I know. They're the good kind, no more leaking this time, I swear. ❞ There's a disconcerting smear of blood on his throat and it pulls her attention to the taught muscles there for a moment and Caroline swallows. ❝ I take it tonight didn't go as planned. ❞ Somehow, her eyes have involuntarily traced down the line of his arm, following patterns of ink and settled on the blood on his hands and the few new splits in his knuckles. The now familiar mantra repeats so insistently in her head that she's worried it might pass through her lips one of these days. Blood isn't sexy. Her boss covered in blood is not sexy. Blood covering her boss because her boss just killed someone with his bare hands isn't sexy. ❝ Do you want staged, disappeared, or disposed of just well enough that he'll be found in a few months and they'll need dental records? Otherwise I've got this new person at the crematorium --- she's super cool, goth but super chic, I'm thinking of trying to set her up with Bonnie --- she doesn't ask questions and she's very accepting of bribes. ❞ / @polymusepotion + because it's living rent free in my head and i needed an outlet.

[luimagines]

Coul I request the chain reacting to meeting the reader who is Wild's sibling? (If background is needed shrieks science and them whatever purchase did so the reader is just sorta- 15-28 )

Masterlist

I don't understand the second sentence but I think I can infer what you're trying to say. And even then, I came up with a backstory that more less fixes it regardless so yay!

Wild is everyone's favorite chaotic creative sibling!

And I went for older sibling because reasons and just assume that sibling! Reader is in their early twenties.

Content under the cut!

You woke up one day in Hateno village, quietly aware of the silence that echoed through your house.

You miss your brother.

Not that he was here often with his Goddess given assignment nor did he even know who you were for the first half of it.

What a day that was.

Your little brother back from the dead, scars and all and then some... but he had no idea who you were.

It hurt to say the least. But you were told it would happen once the news reached you. He would wake up one day to finish his duty but he would not remember anything regarding his past life.

Even when he found you again, after he somehow remembered you, you didn’t know where to begin.

You just knew that you were so happy to be together again after so long that you hugged him as tight as you could and told him that your door was always open.

To say you both cried is the understatement of the century. It was wet and ugly and messy and neither of you really talk about it but it felt good that day.

And while you both knew he couldn’t stay for long with his adventure being no where near complete. He did come home for the night after he set that travel medallion of his by the front door.

But that was then- before the Calamity was defeated.

Now that it’s gone- so is your brother. Again.

On a different quest this time, it seems.

You don’t understand why your baby brother of all people has to be the one to do it and you would like nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and shield him from anything else that comes to hurt him- but he never let you do that as a child- let alone now.

You begin the day like any other and try to get as many mundane chores done as you can before you finally try and get the stable in the back fixed up.

You noticed Link had an affinity to horses and had checked in with the nearest stable to see that he had some lodged under his name.

There’s a place at the house, darn it. Lodge them here. It just needs to be fixed.

With your goal in mind, you lose yourself to the work and the time passes effortlessly.

It’s around noon by the time you hear it.

The familiar sound of activation that gets your heart pounding in relief and unbridled joy.

You drop your hammer and run to the front of the house with the largest grin on your face. “You’re back, you Rug Rat! Come here!”

You single him out instantly amongst the group and tackle him in a hug.

He’s long stopped trying to fight on you on this and has also returned your crushing hug with one of his own. “I’m back.”

“You brought friends too.” You grin and give the group a two fingered salute. “And here I was afraid that this loner child would end up dead in a ditch somewhere and I would be none the wiser. Thank you for looking after my little brother. I’m aware he’s a handful.”

“Ok thanks.” He says.

“Little brother?” Someone from the group asks. They’re lost amongst the sea of head but you nod regardless.

“Yup. I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday.” You grin and put your hands on your hips, introducing yourself right after. “Any friend of Link’s is a friend of the family. Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home. It’s not much but it’s ours. Been in the family since before the calamity struck. Let me wash up a bit and then we can get some food going, yeah?”

“I’ll start up the stove.” Link says and you’re about to disagree. After all, he just got home and should rest while he can but he ahs the most unburdened smile on his face that you can’t bring yourself to deny him.

 “Alright.” You sigh and head to the back where the shower is. It’s always been small and a bit cramped and the door stopped fitting correctly about ten years ago but now that’s it’s not just you anymore, you can go around into the giving the house the TLC it deserves.

But you’re starting with the stable in the back.

When you’re finished and you’ve dried yourself off, you get into the house to find it in a delightful array of colors and chaos.

Each of the boys seemed to have made themselves completely at home in the time you were gone and you leaned against the door frame, watching them all interreact.

Your brother didn’t waste any time with getting the stove up and running. You can smell the beginning of lunch getting cooked and it appears that Link has wrangled two of the boys to be his helpers. One appears to be the youngest with bright wide eyes and a similar blue tunic to that of Links and the other looks to be  slightly more timid in the process. He’s around the same height as Link but darker hair and a long white cape still clasped around his shoulders. 

You recognize the Master Sword strapped to his back.

Making a note of that you look around the room again. Three of them have made themselves comfortable at the table. One is easily the biggest guy of the group, red and blue tattoos on his face and scar over his eye as he watches the others go about the admittedly small house. The other two look to be the same size and you’re sure you can look them in the eye if you needed to. They’re talking to both each other and the group that’s cooking. One has a wolf pelt on his shoulder with more tattoos on his face and other is a knight if you’ve ever seen one with a bright blue scarf around his neck.

You’re not one to judge your brother’s friends but you make a mental note to watch him in case he tries anything.

Two of the boys- one with pink hair and the other have the most solid brown mane of the whole group have made themselves spares and are talking quietly to each other and not making a fuss.

The final one looks to be the smallest but he’s got an older glint to his eye that recognize well. He’s wearing arguably the most color tunic of the group with those four patches sewn together. He’s tucked himself away into a corner with a book out, not interacting with either of them outright but he has been looking up and adding his two cents to the older’s conversation at the table.

They don’t notice you’re back which is a testament to how tired they all must be.

They’re an interesting bunch.

But Link did always surround himself with interesting people.

So you’re not really surprised.

“Sooo...” Pinky starts off, calling your bother’s attention. “You have an older sibling?”

“Yup!” He answers, not looking up from the pot. “They were waiting for me the whole time, and even manage to keep the house. Up keep still needs to be done but we’ve been working on it together.”

“But they’re older.”

“Yes. We’ve established this.”

You have to hold back your snort.

“You were asleep for one hundred years.” Four Patches speaks up, closing his book silently. ”Shouldn’t they... ummm...”

“Be dead?”

“Or at least really old?” Mr. Brunette hops in, trying to lessen the blow of the sentence.

“You’re like one hundred and seven teen right? Wouldn’t that put them at being one hundred and twenty something?” Wolf boy offers.

“I guess so. Yeah. They were old at some point.” Link stops stirring and you can see him try to run the numbers in his head. “I know that much. The village talks about them being really old sometimes, but I guess that was years ago because it’s only from the older folk that live here.”

“But they lived through those one hundred years, didn’t they?” Blue Baby Face speaks this time.

“That’s what they told me.”

“So....” The knight tilts his head and tries to put his hands out as if that would help answer the question. “They’re like the Old Man then? Old in their head but young on the outside.”

“You can say that, yeah.” You say and take extreme satisfaction at the way most of the jump at your voice. “Unlike Link, I was alive the whole time he was asleep. I’ve got grandkids in Lurelin and they visit from time to time but someone had to at least keep the house up and running, might as well have been me.”

“I...” Link starts as he takes the food off the burner. “I never asked you how you stayed young, did I?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” He looks away and deflates a little. Link looks a little disappointed with himself and that won’t stand in this house.

“I didn’t realize it was that important. And I’m going to assume you’ve explained most of the situation Rug Rat.” You laugh a little with a raised eyebrow. “You can blame Purah. You know she wanted to find a way to keep the old from aging, right? It’s why she’s in the body of a little kid again. But when she tried the second formula she realized that if she tried it on herself that it might as well but poof her back into a baby and she wanted to contact Robbie but he’s too far and too old to make that trip. I volunteered.”

“Really?”

“It still didn’t really work, I was transformed into a teenager instead of a child- a horrible time to exist really. But I suppose it was a blessing in disguise. By the time this one-” You step into the house fully and ruffle Link’s hair. “-came back, it left us with the same age gap as before. So in the end I can’t complain.”

“Why’d you volunteer?” Cape guy leans on the wall. “There’s only so many times you can test it, right? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have been worse?”

“Yeah, what if it did transform you into a baby again and you forgot everything?” Four Patches stands up and comes to stand by the table, putting his book on top of it. 

“I wanted to take the risk.” you shrug and pull your brother into a hug. “Is it a crime to want to see my baby brother again not matter the cost?”

“Get off.” He whines.

You laugh but do as he asks. “It was never said when he’d be back. Only that he would. I was willing to buy as much time as needed to be there for him.”

“I didn’t remember you...” He mutters to himself.

“You now, don’t you?” You punch him gently. “We’ve talked about this. It’s ok. I knew it was going to happen. It wasn’t going to stop me. Ganon himself couldn’t properly get rid of me. I’m not leaving your side anytime soon.”

He smiles and turns to hug you.

“Now where’s your wolf friend?” You ask. “Are you still traveling together? There’s something I wanted to give him.”

Wolf Pelt shimmies in his seat for a second but you don’t think much of it.

Link shakes his head. “Not right now but he has been coming by every now and then.”

“Well it’s good he’s still around to look after you then in my stead.”

“We have a horse though.” Link tilts his head up to grin at you. “It’s not the same but her name is Epona.”

Familiarity stabs you in the heart and you know it’s something that Link even remember even if he lives another one hundred years.

He was too little when she passed.

“...Like dad’s old horse. Can I see her?” You say with a light constriction in your throat. “How crazy would it be if they looked alike?”

“Dad had a horse?”

“You wouldn’t remember her, you were too little. I barely remember her as it is but yes, he did.” You take a step back and motion back towards the door. “Maybe after lunch you show me. We can bring her to the back and measure up how the stable is. I’ve been fixing it up.”

“Really!?” Link blinks, an excited glint appearing in his eyes.

“Yes. That’s what I was doing when you first came in. But let’s eat first.” You put your hand to the small of his back and push him gently in the direction of the table. “And then you can tell me about your friends and this new adventure of yours.”

[capturethechaos]

Sam Kiszka x Reader

Words - 847

Warnings - It's angsty folks

Part 2

a/n - This is what happens when I get sad at night and see yet another tiktok with Enchanted by Taylor Swift. Thanks for sitting with me and crying while I wrote this @amouratomique

To my best friend,

Fuck the feeling of falling for someone.

And the feeling of my heart dropping hundreds of stories watching you love someone that isn’t me.

It has been years-- years of falling, and fighting, and hoping that somehow you would feel the same way that I had.

Highschool felt like it had lasted a century, each day passed like grains of sand. Seeing your bright smile, hearing your dumb fucking chuckle, that’s what got me through. We had been best friends since the sandbox in first grade, the day you had stopped me from pulling a girl out of it by her pigtails because she had stolen my animal crackers-- that was the day I knew I had to have you in my life. The rest was history.

What a history it was. Pages worth of days spent running through the woods, playing pirates and cowboys and everything we could think up in the endless expanse of our imaginations. Pictures strewn along walls, and cabinets, and mantels. Frames filled with images of wide smiles, lighting the world around us with the joy we brought along everywhere we went.

Feelings turned complicated when the love I felt began to evolve from the sandbox love we once had. Lingering looks took the place of pleasant distractions around us. Yearning took up permanent residence in my brain as I began to watch you move further away, each step drawing me further from the girl I once knew.

Prom was the first crack.

Watching you move with such freedom, like nothing could stop you from becoming the most exceptional human to grace the earth. Your presence was that of a thousand suns, each look, every gesture and touch lit me up like a bonfire. All I had wanted for those years leading to that night was to have you for myself, to be the one you’d hold close as the music slowed. To whisper inappropriate jokes, just to hear me laugh so that everyone would know that you were the one to bring me joy. You were otherwise enchanted, the gaze I longed for was locked on someone else.

But above all, you were my best friend, so it was swept beneath the rug to deal with later. I smiled for you when you looked over, swelling with pride. Your brain must have been racing a mile a minute. Mine had crashed and burned.

The text I got that night from you deepened the crack you had made earlier that evening. A picture of you and that girl, the simple comment ‘wish you were here.’ I stood in the same spot we had made our own, the torn flag we begged my mother to buy was still hung from the branch of our tree. Our initials carved below the hilt. The scream I let out ripped through the night like a knife. The last time this forest had heard screams was our nights playing hide and seek in the darkness.

I moved on, as best as I could. I was desperate to get out of that town, seeing the ghosts of us everywhere I looked. You held me tight the day I said goodbye for a while. My car was packed, and my heart wretched as you took one last look before I rounded the corner. The tether pulled and pulled, tearing with every mile I drove away from you.

We both lived, I finally lived.

Then I saw you, cause what is the world if not small. I was there for my friend, watching her stand at the altar, promising herself to someone who looked at her as though no one else existed. You were there with someone else, a friend of a friend of mine. I resisted the urge, standing alone drink in hand, but that tether I had snapped so long ago had begun to reattach at the seams. Glances revealed that ever charming smile, gleaming as you made her laugh, that chuckle ringing through the air like a call of peace. The crack that I had filled, glued together so carefully over the years, it expanded. The imminent shatter became increasingly apparent to me as I watched how she would laugh at your inappropriate jokes.

But when you saw me.

I felt like all those years came barreling back at me like waves crashing against a cliff.

I felt the distance close between us, and with every step I felt the girl I once knew come back. Piece by piece I became the little girl in the sandbox once again, and I watched as the little boy I knew crossed the room like a gust of wind.

I’m sorry for running.

I wish I had the strength for it, but you have always been the gravity that held me to the earth, and I need to let myself float.

It’s selfish for me to hope.

To hope that you’ve loved me all this time.

It was enchanting to see you again Sam, I hope it’s not the last time.

Your sandbox girl,

Y/n

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[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Can I ask what it would be like for Solsu having to take care of drunk romanced companions? Bonus points if they're told about their shenanigans afterword.

Cait:

(Angry drunk)

•It's best that you don't drink in polite company with her. She's already a feisty individual with a burning passion for inflicting pain, you make her drunk and it's only a matter of time before she incites some horrible fight.

•Sounds funny, but it's really not. Reign her back. Please.

Curie:

.......you aren't really gonna let her drink, right? I highly advise you don't....

Danse:

(Horny drunk 👀)

•Danse hardly ever partakes in more than a couple glasses with company and this is exactly why.

•At first it all starts off nice and smooth, just Danse beginning to gradually relax- which is "outstanding" considering his usual rigid disposition. However once that fine line of too many drinks have been crossed, all hell breaks loose.

•It'll start with comments on your appearance, simple incessant "you look beautiful"s spoken with dazed eyes...then it escalates to Danse pulling you into his lap where you're met with his obvious "intentions" prodding you in the ass, all while being held in a bear hug from a blushing, smiling Paladin who happens to look like a kicked puppy when you make him calm down with a drink of water. Don't worry, he might mope but he'll quit if you tell him to.

•Perks back up when you tell him it's time to go to bed...only to mope even more when he realizes that no, it isn't for sexy times. No worries, he'll be happy so long as you let him hold you..

•Is absolutely ashamed and horrified of his behavior when he wakes up and you tell him what went down. Probably will hide his face in his pillows and try to disappear. Swears he won’t drink again and make a fool of himself like that….will totally drink some more.

•Just be lucky he wasn’t feeling melancholic like a post BB Danse would.

Deacon:

(Stupid drunk..)

•Ever seen that one video of that guy busting through drywall like Kool-Aid Man? That's Deacon's level of maturity when properly intoxicated.

•No worries, Desdemona is going to bitch at him from the time he does something too stupid until he isn't even drunk anymore. Frankly, he deserves it too- he's destructive, reckless, and...well..hilarious, but that doesn't mean it's redeemable!

•He seems to perfectly remember all his antics, some he even reflects upon with a proud grin..until his hangover ends up making him wince in pain. Just...take care of him, there isn't any point in trying to scold him. Des has that covered anyways.

Gage:

(Emotional drunk)

•A drunk gage was both extremely rare because of his genuine hate for alcohol and also very shocking. Sure, one may assume that someone so rugged and tough like a raider- especially Gage- would have no issue handling his liquor....oh how wrong you could be...

•You weren't entirely sure what happened, much less where he got the idea, but somehow Gage got the absurd notion that you decided he wasn't good enough for you and you were going to just leave him behind. He'd keep it in for a while, slowly growing more quiet as he took practical gulps of his drink. That doesn't last.

•Eventually he starts to cry, silent tears pouring from his good eye. Whenever you actually notice, it's too late. Just pray no one else is around when this next part happens.

•All it takes is you coming to his side, placing a comforting hand on his back and he crumbles. He'll grab you and push his face into your chest and start sobbing, wailing incoherently as he begs you to not leave him.

•It might seem humorous, but it raised several questions.

•The morning after his outburst, you wake up extra early to present him with a half way decent breakfast in bed- extra grease on the food for good measure. Once he seems to be more coherent, you make sure to talk to him about his apparent fear of you not loving him...which brings him close to tears once again whenever you finally convince him that you do in fact love him and won't ever leave his side so long as he loves you back.

Hancock:

(Stealthy drunk)

•Unfortunately, the mayor of Goodneighbor doesn't really have any fun antics..well at least any that would point to him being intoxicated. Sorry.

Macready:

(Over indulging drunk)

•Mac is arguably the best one to get shit faced with, especially if you like drugs and food. Oh yeah, something about eating while intoxicated is irresistible to him. Think of it like munchies, but in Mac's case, five times as bad.

• After a couple drinks, Mac nonchalantly will reach into his pocket- gesturing for you to come close- before putting a cigarette in your mouth and lighting up- using your's to light his own. If you don't set a stopping point, the two of you will wake up down two packs, several empty containers of jet, and crumbs everywhere.

•When faced with the consequences of his gluttony, Mac will just sit there and whine as his stomach does cartwheels. That's punishment enough...

Maxson:

(Mr. Vomits-a-lot drunk)

•It takes a whole hell of a lot for Maxson to get shitfaced thanks to his rather strict habitual drinking. After all, it would be a strange day if you didn't see him knock a bottle of whisky out before finally turning in..which was kind of sad come to think of it..

•Nonetheless, he does occasionally push his limits when he's especially stressed and it's never pleasant when he does.

•It was sort of funny, in retrospect. One minute you and him were sitting on the flight deck together, casually talking whilst finishing off a bottle of shitty vodka (unknowing that he had already burned through countless bottles before meeting you) when suddenly Arthur started to look pale. It just kept getting worse until eventually he was frantically motioning for you to follow him as he ran to the railings, sticking his head over before throwing up whatever was on his stomach..sending it to a several hundred foot drop below.

•It's a good thing you held him, otherwise the brotherhood might've been short an elder and you short a partner.

•When confronted with his..let's say "overindulgence", he'll sort of look away and try to change the subject. It's probably best if you try to hide liquor for a while. 

Nick:

(Doesn't drink....)

Old Longfellow:

With his age and experience? He's the same as Hancock.

Piper:

(Daredevil drunk)

•Hope you're sober, because if you aren't- there's a good chance you'll be spending the night in Diamond City Jail.

•Piper is reckless on a good day, putting alcohol with that in mass quantities and she's wild. Just hope you have strong will, because she sure as shit isn't going to back down easy.

•It's kind of funny, but her go to is to do crazy shit. Jump off the roof? Hold her cup. Want to vandalize the great green wall? Fuck yeah. Nothing beats the time she wasn't careful and threw a lit cigarette down Ann Codman's cleavage during a heated argument with her.

•She has no regrets either, so don't expect her to be remorseful in the morning whenever you tell her what she did. If anything, she'll just laugh next time she sees Ann.

Preston:

(Over thinking drunk)

•If it wasn't lowkey annoying, you'd probably think Preston's drunken neuroticism was hilarious. Not to be gotten wrong, but even sober, your love could be extremely insistent..mix his anxious attitude with liquor and you end up with a terrible night.

•You knew better than to let him have more than a couple beers, seeing as his tolerance wasn't exactly the best, and yet here you were. Preston pensively sitting at the bar beside you, rich eyes narrowed and focused on the liquid in his glass- his hands resting against his head.

•"I know you're dying to ask...." "Okay babe, since you brought it up...do you think putting electrical wire around our people's settlements would be a bad idea? It might closely resemble a prison but it's for their own good. Wait- shit, what about the kids? Oh god..."

•He may just sheepishly rub the back of his head and apologize in the morning..but he'll be quick to revisit some of the key points and ideas with you if you so much as give him a chance.

X6-88:

(Ridiculous drunk)

•It was only one time..thankfully.

•You, and your whole group of friends had to convince him to try it out- but once he started, he couldn't stop.

•This asshole would throw down drinks faster than Hancock..which was terrible considering his painfully low tolerance to alcohol.

•One thing goes to another and next thing you know, "The Wanderer" is playing in the background, X is singing and dancing like an idiot, and everyone is gathered around- terrified at what they were seeing. It's sort of like seeing a deathclaw do ballet- so, totally understandable.

•He dares you to bring it up later, dares you.