#i love every one of these idiots so very much

[ctrlhope]

Chasing Tornados (m)

synopsis: Ever since you were young, you found solstice in the clouds. Found haven in their winding winds, their chilling storms. Monsters of the air meant to destroy became your love— your safety. You know everything about the skies, yet you only want to know more about him. Wish for him to love you just as much as you do him. Your best friend. Your scorpion. Your impossible. Your Yoongi. -> part of the rest, relax, reserve series

m.yoongi x f.reader

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : wc: 21.0k+

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : genre: hybrid au, storm chasers au, soulmate au, friends/coworkers to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : content: scorpion hybrid!yoongi x human!reader, storm chaser!yoongi+reader, angst, semi-public sex (bathroom), fingering, p in v, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, bratty!reader a lil, rough sex, thigh riding, sex under the influence (alcohol), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, one mention of a breeding kink, yoongi has a tail, mates, misunderstandings, fights, jealousy, non-linear storytelling, reader and yoongi are both kinda stupid idk, but also v cute, angst but a happy ending <33

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : notes: heyyyyy it’s ur girl, back with another mc let’s play video!! kidding lol, sorry this took so long to write, life has been really hectic. trust me on this fic lol. but i rlly fell in love with these two nd I hope you do too <33 and i hope u enjoy my attempts at comedy! remember!! my requests are always open nd you can always feel free to send asks to characters <33

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

Wind wraps in your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in your ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person. 

But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon. 

The world acts as something greater- something more than yourself. A collective that has not a care for you or the people in it. A system acting for its own desires. A storm that takes and takes and takes until there's nothing left to give. 

You love it. Love every second of it. 

Even if you should be scared, even if you should be terrified– look for cover just like everyone else. To hide and cower away from the winding beast that destroys homes, takes down power lines. That kills. You can’t. Not when you feel this– this calling deep in your bones. This calling to know more. This calling to conquer a monster. 

To chase the impossible. 

You have always lived for that very thing. Have constructed your entire life around finding answers for beasts that are beyond reason, to construct something real from what can only be construed as fake. To look the storm in the eye, to live within it rather than to be consumed.

And that is exactly why you stand where you find yourself now. Tornado Alley. A storm brewing just in front of you. Warm air meeting cold, finding breath, coming to life. 

Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should let panic set you alight and carry you far, far away from the death spirals. Maybe you should do a lot of things, yet you can't. You can only stare in wonder as rain hits your flesh. As the wind tries to take your clothes, battering them in the breeze. As electricity cracks above your head, light debris flying past your form to entertain the forming tornadoes fury.  

Bang, Bang, Bang. 

Now that sound isn't from the storm, it can’t be. Sounds too much like metal, like a fist hitting it. Oh right, the car. 

“(Y/n) get your ass in here, now!” His voice is loud, forced to so you could hear him above the storm. He would never yell otherwise. Never raise his voice a single decibel against you. 

Your body turns to face him, a smile breaking across your cheeks without a second thought. Eyes turning to crescents, rain dripping down your cheeks. 

Right, Yoongi. 

The impossible. 

You don’t know when it happened. It shouldn’t have happened. But you knew it did. Felt the shift in your soul whenever you looked at him, felt your blood pumping just a fraction faster whenever he was close. Felt yourself yearn to smell his signature Yoongi scent whenever you sat in his car, whenever he drove you around on one of your little escapades. 

Maybe it was a year ago. Maybe less. Maybe more. You could never be sure– emotions never were your strong suit. But he knew that, and he didn’t care. Never pressured or pried, always just let the two of you be. Act in co-existence in a way you doubt two people could. 

Your partner in crime, your solace among the disarray perpetuating every second of your job– your life. The only person you knew crazy enough to chase the storms with you. To risk their life driving you into the eye. Your right hand man. Your friend. 

None of it should have happened. But it did anyway. Isn’t that always the way life goes? The same way the storms control the skies, he found himself controlling your heart with no will of his own. No knowledge of the underlying flutter that found its way into your guts the second he looked at you, nor any knowledge of the way your eyes fell into adoration when they fell on him. 

Why did you have to fall in love with the storm? 

You weren’t sure– never cared to look deeper into the fact. Never cared to think about why you couldn’t fathom a future without him. Never dared to dip into why the scrawny kid from your college has suddenly become a man before you. Never even thought to challenge the pre-disposed ideologies that held your friendship by its core.

No. You would never do anything as stupid as that. 

Yes, you were a creature of impulse. Never the type to take into account the consequences your actions disclosed. But you like to chase the impossible. You would never think to actually attempt to change it. Especially when you could lose everything in the process. Lose him.

In more ways than one.

Plus, you know where he stands. Know he could never see you as anything more than a friend– a little sister. The hair ruffles, the slight glares he gives when men talk to you in the bars, the way he puts up with your ‘overly affectionate’ cuddles– as much as you wish the simple actions meant more, you knew they simply didn’t.

A big brother. Unfortunately for you, he knows that’s the role he plays in your life too well. 

But he’s not your big brother. He's a man, you’re a woman. It’s not like you ever asked to get caught up in the stringers that tangled you together. Not like you ever asked for this crush to form. 

“For fucks sake! (Y/n)!” His voice is louder now, a harsh yell pulling you from the thoughts that sunk you under the waves. His body forcing itself through the wind to get to you, arm raising to shield his face. “We have to fucking go!!” 

He would admonish you later for getting too caught up in your own thoughts again– something you knew all too well. But when the storm was raging around you, it was almost easier to think. To get lost in the recesses of your brain until you drew the conclusion you had been looking for all along. 

His hand grips your wrist now, dragging you back to the safety of your company truck all while scolding you harshly with words he never actually meant. Just his salt-coated concern peaking through the surface. And well, his concern about getting swallowed up by the storm. Yeah, most people worry about that kind of stuff. At least that’s what you suppose. 

“Are you that fucking stupid?” He shouts roughly at you, forcing you to get in the passenger seat. His touch is gentle even if his words are strong. He always has been strong. “You’re going to get yourself killed!” 

He slams the door closed before you can say anything back– frustrated but not mad. Never mad at you. And for that you can’t help the giddy feeling on your lips. Your eyes watching him as he quickly walks to his side of the car, tail curled close to his back almost as if to protect himself. 

Right, his tail. You forget about it a lot of the time– but at the same, you are so very fond of it. Smile whenever it moves in response to his emotions, giggle whenever he forgets about it himself, tripping over the thing. 

You often forget Yoongi isn’t a full human. But it’s never played much of a role in your life, in your friendship. So you don’t really see the point to care. Choose to ignore the scorpion blood that runs through his veins and view him as any other person walking the face of the earth. It’s never bothered you. 

Most people around you call you a fool anyway, it’s not much to add another reason to it. 

“Ah~ Don’t worry, King Yoongi. I don’t plan on getting myself killed anytime soon.” You let out a gentle giggle as he finds his way into the car, pressing on the gas almost immediately and driving as fast as he can away.

His body is so rigid, so stressed. Yet you can’t be further from it. Your legs propped haphazardly on the dashboard, your body sinking deeper into the seat. You trust him. He always gets you out. Something about his special senses, probably. Maybe. 

Actually, you don’t know. You should ask him about it later– how he can see in such horrid conditions. 

“You will if I just leave you there.” He rolls his eyes, glancing over to you for only a second before managing back to the road, “Don’t think I won’t.” 

“You won’t though.” He only scoffs, but you can see the smile at the corner of his mouth. It warms you almost as much as the sound of the rain– or maybe it's hail now, pelting the roof of the car.  

“I could and I will.” 

“But you won’t.” 

“Just put your fucking seat belt on.” He grumbles, his voice getting a fraction louder as he turns the wheel harshly, a last second manoeuvre. A stick flying through the air past your window. A narrow avoidance. 

The car bumps harshly as it drives, the roads narrow and in disarray. Swerving to avoid debris that litters the ground and jumping as it dips into potholes. It feels like a race. Makes you feel alive even as you click the belt into place– as he moves his tail across your frame to act as a second one. 

You should be scared. Should be terrified of getting caught in the storm. But you trust Yoongi. You know he’ll always protect you. 

“Did the other teams drop their equipment on time?” You ask, reaching below your seat and grabbing the computer. He sends you a pointed glance. 

“According to the sensors we were the last ones.” 

“Well we always are~” You mumble back, a little sing-song in your voice while your head tilts towards your chin. Eyes scanning the array of measurements that pop up on the screen– reading them, taking in their meaning. 

It is your job, anyway. 

“Who’s fault is that?” His words don’t perfectly cross your ears, never do when you're trying to focus. An input of too much information at once and a computer might explode! Aka your brain, aka he’s known for years you have selective hearing when trying to understand complicated things. 

“Mhmm…” You quietly mumble out, fingers moving quickly to type as he finally drags the car out of the storm. Slows down to a more human speed as you type out a few observations, input pieces of code to make your readings more sensible. 

You completely miss the small smile he sends your way, the tilt of his head trying to check. “Anything interesting?”

“Mmm… Nothing we haven’t seen before. Got a couple of cool 3D models of the storm your screen, though…” You tilt the laptop in his direction, showing him the model of the storm. Exactly how big it was, how fast it was moving. “Just an E2, but still pretty.” 

“Yeah, had to’ve been to almost let it eat you.” 

You roll your eyes, shutting the laptop as he pulls over to the side of the road, “Of course, I’d let anything as pretty as that take me out.” 

He scoffs, “Anything, really?”

“Yeah, you know that guy on Attack on Titan that's like ‘oh i’d let a pretty female titan eat’-- Wait a second it is not my fault!” You suddenly announce, his words before finally registering in your mind, “You’re always tinkering with the the the bits!! That’s why it takes so long!”

You grump, crossing your arms. A fond smile finding its way to his lips. 

“Yeah, cause the ‘bits’ are the real issue, aren’t they? Not you playing out music videos in your head while a tornado is hurrdaling at us?”

“Okay! That was one time! And totally not my fault!” You huff, not in any real annoyance, just simply banter. Yoongi always seemed to like your over-dramatic reactions anyway. “You said we could play Hurrcane!! By my girl Bridget Mendler! You know what that song does to me!” 

He can only laugh in response, the gums of his mouth showing as he tilts his head back. Long black hair falling lower against his shoulders. Tail falling lax for the first time in forever. Crests shown in his eyes. 

You like giving Yoongi your reactions if it means he can smile like this. 

When he looks in your direction for a breef second, you can’t help but puff out your cheeks and stick out your tounge in pestilence. The action only causing him to shake his head, eyes returning to the road a little brighter than before.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. How could I possibly forget.” A thousand words are said behind his tone that you could never pick up on. Never notice. “You get so excited, like a kid. It’s funny.”

Your head jerks to look at him, a pointed glare in your eye, “She makes me feel things you can’t even hope to understand, Min.”

He rolls his own, “Uh huh. I’m sure.” 

College. Senior Year. The perfect hell it bestows on all of its captors. 

The combined effort of senior thesis’s, grad school searches, advanced level course work, and the unyielding need for money after graduation, as it turns out, is the best possible combination for stress any one person can find! How wonderful. Especially for you, with a stupid gpa you need to upkeep to keep your stupid scholarships, so you can get your stupid degree and get your stupid job–

Well, okay. Now you’re just spiralling. 

Annoyed and tired has never been a good combination for everyday dreamers. Especially those that have been working their entire lives for a single goal. To chase their every last dying hope since they were a child. To become the very person they could only wish to be in their youth. 

But in all fairness, your ass has been handed to you on a silver platter after your last exam grade was horribly, terribly slid to you face down against the table. A quiet note of “see me after class” listed on the top without reverie. Your thoughts a sudden cyclone vortexing you inward and onward, wishing you could tell the sweet summer child of your adolescence that you had failed her. That you were never going to be able to live inside a tornado as she had wished. 

Oh. The monster that you were. 

That was, at least, until you did meet with your professor. And, apparently, he wasn’t going to drop you from the class and (somehow) get you removed from the college like you had thought! Even better, he saw how hard you worked– how much you truly care. Deciding to lend a hand rather than pull it back. Giving you a building and a time to meet with a tutor he specifically picked out. 

Someone he would apparently trust his life to. Your life– okay, academic career, to as well. 

That’s how you found yourself now. Walking through a library that had to be older than your great grandparents– the scent of mildew filling your nose as you moved farther and farther into the recesses of the building. 

Why, exactly, you had to meet in the deepest, darkest corner of the library at an absurd hour of the day confuses you even now. Annoys you a little, quite frankly. Leaving your dorm past 8pm feels like a nightmare.

But you trust your professor, you trust that he wouldn’t steer you wrong. Well, hope is probably a better term. One that more accurately portrays your inner conflicts as you make your way to the back conference table nestled deep within walls of encyclopaedias. Dust entrapping the air you sit in– age and memories baked in the walls. 

At worst, that’s all you shall make. Memories. Call the whole thing a bust and look online for some tutors or go to a used bookstore and buy a few more outdated textbooks. At best, you’ll pass the class and become one of the best meteorologists the world has seen. No pressure on Mr. Mystery Tutor or anything. Obviously. 

None at all. 

Your fingers find themselves tapping against the table as you think; seat already taken, items already spread out as you wait. Just your ring finger over and over in a repeated motion– the beat of wind speeds picking up on a desert plane. The bubbling of magma under the surface of the earth. The–

“(Y/n)?” A husk of a voice breaks your almost monotonous silence, your tapping suddenly ceased as a chill travels down your spine. A chill from the tone of someone's voice alone– can you believe that? 

Somewhere, once, when you were little, you heard that a chill runs down your spine whenever a serial killer passes by. But this isn't that. No, this is something entirely different. More familiar. More recognizant. 

Your eyes shoot pitifully fast up at him, almost tilting your head as you take in the features. Black hair– maybe brown, baggy hoodie, slouched shoulders. One hand supporting the shrap of his bag that hangs over his shoulder. 

No, you don’t know him. Maybe a future you does– one where a timeline passes over this exact spot. Where you’re friends already, maybe something more. Something safe. Though, that isn’t a very scientific explanation. One colleagues and professors may make fun of you for. You disregard the notion, only nodding your head to confirm. 

He only mirrors the motion in return, seemingly not one for conversation himself. Finding himself pulling out the chair across from yours, setting himself inside of it. Wasting no time in pulling out his own belongings. 

Laptop, textbook, notebook. 

“The professor said you were having trouble with qualitative analysis of…” His voice trails off, and you can’t help but wonder how someone's voice can almost sound like a well-loved record. A tune that can’t quite find its sink– almost too rigid to hope itself melodic. 

You listen to the same voice as it sings out the songs of your lessons. As he goes over the failed exam beat by beat. Explaining the first few questions in such simple terms anyone could understand them. Not in a way that felt condescending, no. Again, it just felt so warm that you couldn’t do anything but listen to him quietly. Absorbing everything without a single interruption. 

Well, until question 7 at least. That is when you feel two synapses connecting in your brain reminding you of an ultra-important task that absolutely cannot be forgotten. A handshake. Your small hand cutting him off, reaching across the table without a second thought.

He stares at the pervasive hand as if it is something he’s never seen before. Never been offered in the first place. Something offensive to hurt rather than anything else.

Interesting. 

“My dad always said you have to shake hands when you’re meeting someone. Or else it’s bad luck down the road. So…” You explain away simply, like it should be obvious to every person on the Earth. It should, honestly. But you’ve been told you have issues with thinking that way– that things obvious to you should be obvious to everyone else. That everyone else lives within the same bubble you’ve found yourself residing in your whole life. 

You know it isn't true– that the bubble you’ve created is something you simply live in alone. Periphery finding itself resident to everyone else. But that’s awfully lonely, isn't it? You choose to think the former. 

His shoulders slowly unfurl, defences slowly lowering as he meets your hand in the middle. Rough palm meeting yours, shaking slowly up and down before both sides pull away. A magnet short of attraction of two bodies as you pull away. 

“Good.” You nod, pulling your knees up to hover off of the ground. Resting them against the edge of the table instead. “I don’t like bad luck either.” 

There's a beat of silence, one that you don’t mind. 

“Do you not like black cats then either?” His tone has an edge of pessimism to it. His defences considering a raise. 

You, on the other hand, feel immediate offence. How dare he! “What?! Are you crazy! Or course I like them.” 

You miss the crook of his lip into a light smirk, defences gone once more, “Well, normally they’re seen as bad luck…” 

“That’s just a stereotype!” You instantly defend. Your body leaning over, moving your face closer to his. 

He holds his arms up in defence, pencil still wedged between his fingers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My bad completely.” He lets out a quiet chuckle at the end, you only puff out your cheeks.

“Entirely.” You huff quietly, almost sounding like a petulant child, “I would never judge something just off of how they’re born.” At that, he almost perks an ear. 

“Really?” He asks, his eyebrows slowly raising, “Not even hybrids?” 

Ah, hybrids. A common discussion other people find themselves having, one that you never really found the purpose of. Arguments on their rights, the ethics of keeping them as pets, on if they should even be classified as intelligent life. You hated all of them. Didn’t understand for a second why people kept themselves concerned with class divisions or keeping others subservient at all. 

As far as you care, they’re the same as humans. Think like humans, act like humans. Another creature just as deserving the right to live and exist as all others. You don’t concern yourself with the difference in their existence– seeing them, treating them the same as you would any other person. 

You can’t stand that others find different opinions than yourself. Cutting them off entirely for treating another living, breathing creature with the capacity to think for itself as less. Reminding you desperately that you live on the periphery. 

“No, why should I care.”  You scrunch your nose up at the notion you’d think otherwise. He takes the action differently. “They’re the same as everyone else.” 

You surmise your ideologies simply, though you’re never sure if your words construe correctly. His results are inconclusive as well, letting out a quiet grunt. Dropping the subject. Keeping his words from revealing what is true. 

“What else is bad luck then?” 

You don’t notice the quick subject change, “Walking under ladders, whistling in the woods, doing your laundry on a sunday. …I can’t imagine saying Bloody Mary in a mirror 3 times is much help either.” 

He pauses for a second, his eyes just looking at you. They’re sharp things– knives against a grinder maybe. Could even be too sharp to be human, if you cared to look a little closer. Cared to notice the differences between you and him. 

But you don’t, nor will you probably ever. Just allow him to shake his head simply, let him return to your test questions without a single other thought leaking into that brain of yours. Only this time, you feel comfortable enough to ask a few more questions. Let him delve more deeply into the work without the threat of your mind wandering off to useless things. Allow the clock to tick later, later, later into the night– moving from your exam, to the most recent concept your class has been working on. Carefully treading the water, staying afloat as you finally begin to understand. 

You hate to admit it, you really do for the sake of your pride alone, but he really is a good teacher. He doesn’t seem upset when you ask questions– no matter how stupid you are. He stays calm whenever you start to get frustrated, carefully talking you through it instead of getting upset himself. He seems so peaceful you almost want to hate him for it. 

Almost, because between the gentle instructions and messy handwriting as the hours tick late into the night, jokes begin to crack freely between both of your tongues. Gentle jabs that mean nothing, topics construing into obscurity flowing into something more entertaining to discuss. 

Though– he did seem to have pause when you told him you don't trust fish. Something about them thinking they’re better than you– of which he agreed. Not that they’re better than you, of course not. But that yeah… they do seem to have that kind of look in their eyes. 

He feels the same way about birds, you learned. Interesting. 

It isn’t until midnight that he calls it, a time you didn’t even think was plausible. You thought it was 9:30, 10 at the latest! There’s no way midnight could have come so soon! Just the idea of it sounded fake. But then you checked the clock in the library, then your phone, and now you don’t know what to think. 

Time has never flown so simply with another person. 

“I told you I wasn’t lying.” He has that stupid smirk on his face, the one you’ve decided means he’s feeling cocky and amused. 

“You could… you could have changed all of them when I wasn’t looking! To trick me?”

“Yeah.. mhmm.. And what would that do.. For either of us..?”

“. . . I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Right.” He smiles, a real smile that shows off his gums. You can’t help but reflect a smaller one back at him. 

Once again he moves first, standing after he’s collected all his belongings. Tossing his bag over his shoulder while you hurry to catch up. Sliding your laptop inside before making sure your pens know their correct homes in the case–

What was that?

It was something so subtle anyone could have missed it. A mouse scurrying between cases, a piece of trash floating by. Something brown moving quickly in the corner of your eye. Something you neglected to notice. How could you not notice something so obvious?

When you look up at him– finally take the man you’ve spent the night with in his entirety, you see it. You missed it while he was sitting down, obviously trying to keep the thing from view, but now there was no hiding it. It was impossible to hide the thick brown tail that hung behind him in such a relaxed posture you wonder if he forgot about it, too. 

You couldn’t help the instant fascination as you took the form of it in. The pretty segments it appeared to be broken into– 5 if you counted them correctly, all stacked neatly upon one another. All leading to a stinger resting at the end, gently curled inward rather than held in defence. 

The gentleness of the man himself contrasted so nicely with the firmness of the tail. 

So pretty.

It was only then that he must’ve realised his mistake. Must’ve noticed your silence, followed your eye line to see exactly where it was laying. Realised that he let his guard down too quickly– understood too quickly that you didn’t already know about his… condition. His state of existence. 

The professor must’ve not told you. Probably thought it was a negligible factor even though it never is. Maybe when he came in you missed it, you didn’t actually look up at him until he sat down anyway. Until his tail was already tucked deep under the chair for protection. 

Without realising it, his tail raises. Curing behind his back, the tip looking even sharper than it normally does. Meanwhile his body tenses up entirely. Defence utterly encasing his form.

Fuck, and then your eyebrows are raising– and next you’re gonna start screaming and he’ll have to run so he doesn’t get taken in by hybrid services and–

“Can I touch it?” Your voice brings him back to reality, back from the ‘end-of times’ it found itself careening towards. Now he’s just, he’s just confused. Did you just ask him if you could touch it? Why aren’t you acting like he’s suddenly the scum of the earth? That’s how hybrids are treated anyway. 

Even if you said otherwise earlier, that doesn’t mean much to someone who's never experienced otherwise. 

“. . . oh… or maybe that’s rude. Forget it. Sorry.” You rush out instead, taking his appearance softly. Honestly, you don’t know much about what could be considered ‘rude’ to hybrids… you don’t have much experience with them at all, actually. 

“You’re not…” He fumbles with himself, his tail remaining raised like a predator. He forces himself taller, forces himself to appear more together. More ready to ‘strike’-- figuratively. He clears his throat, “What, you have something you want to say?”

You cock your head back sharply, rising to your feet, “No, why would I?” You feel just as confused as him. Maybe asking to touch a hybrid’s parts is more taboo than you thought… 

“Look I didn't mean any offence it was just pretty and–”

“Just fucking run off and report me if you’re going to–”

Both sentences are said at the same time from each party, the response mirroring exactly as well. Both faces twist into that of almost confusion and offence, upset that the other would dare say something like that for entirely different reasons. 

“What are you talking about?” Your question comes from annoyance, almost anger that he would think you would do something as nasty as reporting him when he was just trying to live his life. 

His comes from the simple word pretty. Why would you think his appendage was anything of the sort? The one thing his entire life that’s set him back– the very blood in his veins betraying him. The reason he can’t be accepted by normal people. The reason he has to take stupid night classes at this university with any professor that is actually willing to accept him. To accept his under the table payments. 

The very reason he’ll never get a real job– just hope to be adopted by someone who will let him do what he wants. Just hope that the authorities don’t find him, or that his own landlord won’t turn him in before he can do that. 

And you think it’s pretty? No fucking sane person would. 

“Why would you think I’d report you?” Your tone is hurt, the pang in his heart hurting just as much. He hates that he feels it, and he hates that he wants to comfort you more than anything else. Stupid fucking scorpion genes. 

“What else would you do?” He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Literally nothing. I would do nothing.” You glare at him slightly, “I don’t care that you’re a hybrid, why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” His tone is accusatory, but he doesn’t quite know what else to make it. 

“Okay, let’s go down the list, yeah?” The spite in your tone lets the both of you know this night is taking a sour turn, “You can think, you can feel, oh right, you’re your own fucking person.”

You roll your eyes, “I know words don’t mean much, probably, but I view literally every creature as equal.” He still stands firm, your words and his life experiences battling in his mind. You sigh, this isn’t going anywhere. “Listen, I know it probably doesn’t mean much, and like, we both just met so I know it doesn’t hold much value. But I’m really sorry for whatever you’ve gone through in your life. It couldn’t have been easy. But I really, truly don’t care about whatever laws are in place. As far as I’m concerned, you’re equal to me.”

Your tone had gone soft, more gentle. Trying to dispel the hostility that hung fragrant in the air. But it looks like he can’t move. Doesn’t really know how after all of that. You probably wouldn’t either– though you’re not sure, you’ve never been good at putting yourself in other people's shoes. You just hope he believes you… that’s all you can do. 

“I’ll head out first. You have my number, text me if you want to meet again.” You start towards the door, the ball left in the other man’s court. You wish you could’ve at least got his name first but.. He never introduced himself. Hmm, maybe you did the handshake too late, that’s why the bad luck kicked in. 

“You think it’s pretty?” You almost don’t hear his words, too far away. 

You turn your body back to face him, a gentle smile crocheted onto your lips, “Of course I do. Exquisite.�� 

The two of you stand in silence for a minute longer, trying to navigate the confusing energy moving between both of your forms. It’s only when you turn back around again to leave that he finally speaks. The simple word of his name. 

“Yoongi.” 

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Yoongi.” You say softly, tilting your head to look at him once again, “I really do hope we can be friends.”

But that was years ago. Friends came and went; now you want so much more. More than you could ever quite articulate. You know it now as you sit with him, an after-chase ritual in whatever cheap roadside bar you can find. Never finding yourselves regulars, always on the move– save for the presence of each other. 

“I don’t think luck is real, you know.” Yoongi drawls into your ear, the scent of alcohol heavy on his tongue. His body leaning against yours in the crowded bar, hair dancing against the side of your neck all while his tail finds itself curled around your back. A simple motion that could only be described as protective, possessive. 

“What?!” You dramatically slap your hand against your mouth, an action you picked up from him. Alcohol inhibiting both of your minds only slightly, letting words flow a little easier than they otherwise might. Letting touch feel a little more commonplace. 

An afterwork tradition, if you will. 

“You’re insane!” You announce, slapping his shoulder playfully, “You’re gonna make bad luck get us Yoongi!! Take it back!” 

Your voice is almost a whine, and he wants to fold because of it. 

“You say that like you aren’t a stem major!” He laughs, his eyes shining like crescent moons you want to live on. Wait, does that even make sense?

“That doesn’t matter! We're like– the least scienc-y!! Our whole job is practically based on luck! Oh my god!” Now you’re stopping your foot a little, and his tail finds itself pulling you closer.

“Yeah, but you have no idea how many ladder’s I’ve walked under and you still say I have the best luck.” He giggles– fucking giggles!! Can you believe the audacity of this man?! 

“Yoongi!! How dare you!! Do you know how many E5s’ you’ve cost us?! Probably like.. Like 20!” 

“Mm, maybe yours just keeps it up for the both of us. Huh?” You humph, you fucking humph, and maybe– just maybe, Yoongi feels himself going a little insane. Forgetting himself– what you are meant to be to him.

“That’s the only plausible explanation… obviously…” 

He hums, “Obviously.” 

There’s a brief moment, a flicker in the air of something indescribable. Something that makes your skin feel a quiet, humble flame strumming under the surface. That makes you feel as if there's electricity pulsing through the space left between your noses. That makes you feel almost invincible as your eyes meet his warm brown tones. 

You’ve come to love earthy hues since meeting Yoongi. He’s full of them, after all. 

But, the flame of the match is blown out far too quick for you to truly comprehend what that moment was. Why it felt the way it did. Instead, your left sputtering with the absence of Yoongi, the slow withdrawal of his form. 

“I’ll go get us more drinks.” His gravelly voice mutters just loud enough to hear over the music. You can only nod along, already missing the security of the tail curled around your back. 

At least he isn’t so shy about it’s presence anymore. At least not like he was back then– trying to hide it, trying to make the rest of the world forget about it. You never understood why, no, how could you when you love it so much? Find it just another integral part of Yoongi for you to love. 

You can even smile now, thinking back to how cute he got the first time he let you touch it. How he turned red to his ears, the chill that travelled down his spine. The flick of it as it chased after your hand when you retreated. It was too fucking cute back then… mm. Maybe that’s when you first started to grow a crush on the man. 

Or maybe it was always how struck he was when you complimented him. Pushed it aside like it meant nothing, yet he always seemed a little out of it for the rest of your time spent together. You suppose Yoongi has always been reticent to your gaze; but then again, he was always aloof when it came to his feelings as it was. Nothing to dwell on, honestly. 

You’ve never tried to hide your feelings– have never wanted to, really. You don’t think you even know how. But you’re not going to force them on him either. If he wants to act, the door has always been open. And it will remain open to him, probably forever. 

“How’d the chase go this time?” A voice carries you from your head, your feet returning to the solid ground. Jisung, a fellow chaser finds himself in the seat next to yours– the seat Yoongi used to fill. A friend in the industry, you could say. Though, you take to thinking he probably wants more. 

“Mmm… ‘bout as good as any other this late into the season…” You hum, taking a sip from your half-full glass, “Never as good around this time of year.” 

Your sigh makes a gentle smile grow onto his plush lips, “Really? I thought you fell in love with every storm.” He lets out a quiet snort, swirling his own cup. His eyes seem to remain focused on you, though. 

“Of course I do. Everyone is perfect and special!” You declare a smile stretching back, “However, like every caring mother, I do have favourites.” 

“I don’t think– that’s not–” He laughs, “Aren’t parents not supposed to have favourites?”

“You really believe that Lie, Sung? Bold of you.”

“Well, do you have favourite pets?”

“Of course not!! How dare– okay, yeah. It’s the goldfish. His name is Guppie and he is my pride and joy. Named after my first love in elementary school~ imagine I let out a dreamy sigh here.”

His laugh makes your own come out as well, “Your first love was a… fish?”

“What, no?”

“They were named Guppie? … Like a fish…”

“Nickname, of course.” You giggle, girlish and cute. 

“Do you give nicknames to everyone then?” He moves his face closer in wonder, excitement, “What’s mine? You have to tell me.”

You hum, tapping your chin in contemplation, “I don’t know ‘Sung, nicknames are reserved for extra special people in my life…”

“Ah!” He clutches his chest, looking down before popping his head up. Puppy dog eyes, “I’m not extra special? You wound me (Y/n)! You really do! And I really thought we had something, I can’t believe this.” 

You laugh loudly at the dramatic act– emotions on the sleeve are so much more fun to display. You know he probably means none of it, but it’s still adorable. You can’t help but lean in closer, slapping his chest gently. 

“Shh! Shh! You’re too loud! Too loud! You’re extra special!” The conversation is easy, just as it always is with Jisung. Though it isn’t the same– you can’t help but notice that fact. It feels easy, smooth… though like there is a wall in the way of true connection. Like there is a way you are meant to act. Just like there always is. 

Always is with everyone but Yoongi. 

It’s strange. But something you’ve grown attached to. Fond of. 

He clears his throat behind you– think of the devil and he shall appear. Or however the saying goes. You’ve never been good with them, anyway. Your strengths and your faults, the simple facts have become all too aware of over time. Not that you mind them, of course. You just accept them as a fact of ‘you’. Just like your bubble, just like your impossible.

“Oh, hey!” Jisung is bright as always, giving a gentle wave to the man behind you. 

“Poongie!” You smile, your inebriated mind already attempting to wrap itself around his torso. It’s not your fault you already missed him!

Jisung erupts in a fit of giggles, “Poongie?! That’s his?!”

“Yep! Mixture of Pookie and Yoongi. He loves it.” He certainly does, but he would never admit it. Actually, he feels kind of odd right now. More… stiff than he was before he left. Like something… darker? Is radiating off of him. Though, it’s not actually dark. Just kind of… displeased. You can't seem to find the right word. 

“I can tell.” Jisung rolls his eyes, “He looks thrilled.” 

That only seems to further upset the man, his tail slowly curling around itself on instinct. Moving to find purchase on your waist. To pull you closer. To claim you. Sober thoughts slipping into a drunk mind, his actions freer than he normally allows them to be. 

Jealousy. That’s all he feels. Jealous that you just called someone who’s been openly hitting on you the entire season ‘extra special’. How fucking childish of him. He knows that even now, but he doesn’t want to stop. Everything that normally does feels as though they’ve gone into hibernation at this very moment.  

He just wants you. 

The next thing the Scorpion knows, he’s setting the drinks on the counter while you gaff away. Lifting you by your hips, sliding his form underneath yours with a grunt. Placing you on his lap and finally, making sure you’re secure to him with a hug of his tail around your midsection. 

He almost feels proud at your little squeal of surprise. At the blush on your cheeks. That’s right. He’s the only special one to you. This other man– other predator should know it. 

He knows he’ll regret this display in the morning. That he’ll feel utterly embarrassed by the whole thing. But right now Min Yoongi feels on top of the world. 

“Yoongi! What are you doing!” You hiccup out in surprise, trying to turn to face him. But he holds you still, holds you secure. Holds you safe just like he always makes sure you are. Gives you a response only by the shrug of his shoulders, his chin finding purchase in the crook of your neck. 

“W-well.. Fine then!” You huff, puffing out your cheeks just a little, “I’ll stay, but… just for a little! I’ll stay here for a little…” You grow a little quiet near the end, a little nervous. But you couldn’t feel more warm than in this moment. So heavenly. 

Jisung only laughs, what else is he meant to do anyway? A small, petulant part of Yoongi was hoping he’d run for the hills– he would with such aggressive scent marking. But then again, the other man is a human, probably doesn’t know anything about such a thing. 

The other part of Yoongi almost wants him to watch. Wants the other man to watch you drown in your own blush, watch as you learn more and more into the firm chest behind you. Feel the connection you two have that–

Oh, you’re laughing again too, what a pretty sound. The conversation picking up once again– Jisung is a conversationalist isn’t he. Yoongi almost wishes he was the same. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It makes people do drastic things. It makes Yoongi want to do even more drastic things. 

If only he was human. 

If he was human he'd do so much more. Would have already done so much more. But now, in his current state of being, he couldn’t handle it. He wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection. He knows it. Knows it in the way mother’s comfort their children after one look at his tail, and knows it in the way you look at storms. 

Yoongi isn’t a tornado. You would never look at him the same way you look at them. With such love and light in your eyes. 

But god he wants you to, he wants you to more than anything. He wants to be an option. He wants to be the center of your universe just like those dumb fuck storms are. He wants to be the wind that plays with your hair, the rain that kisses your skin. He wants to be the very thing that envelopes your entire consciousness just like those storms do. 

And maybe, just maybe if he presses himself close enough to you he can. He can pretend with the poison in his blood that you like him. He can be yours, even if it's only for a night.

He would always be yours. You never his’. 

And as the night ticks on, venom bubbling up every second that ticks, he feels himself becoming looser. Feels you melting into his grip as pretty drinks and florals fill your mind. Feels your scent starting to overpower his nose as his mind blurs with thoughts of you. Almost feels the tangle of souls joining in the way he’s always wished them to.  

“Yoonie..” You hum, fingers coming up loosely to move through his hair in a way they only do when the two of you are alone, “He went to get a drink, can let me go now…seats open.” 

He almost feels annoyed at your words, and you can’t help but let the disappointment of them bubble, too. You don’t want him to let you go. In fact, you’d be happy staying like this forever. But you know Yoongi, you know he doesn’t like to be so… affectionate in public. He’s one to show his love quietly, something else you’ve come to find endearing over the years you’ve spent by his side. 

Only, you don’t feel relieved movements like you expected to, no. While his arms go lax, his tail almost pulls tighter. The two sides of him fighting, arguing over what to do next. And next, next you feel something so warm. So soft against your neck that you don’t know what to do. 

Lips. His lips are against your neck. A gentle press to the side of the column robbing you of your ability to breath, ability to think. Normal affectionate pecks are common, sure, when the two of you have spent too long reaserching and analysing the your brains are working a little slower than they normally do, they might even be seen as common. But this kiss, this kiss was slow. It was languid. It was so much more. Everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“Have to?” His words are quiet, gruff. Lips moving against your neck as he talks. Spoken to you alone in the world, emboldened by the alluring mix of jealousy and alcohol. 

You shake your head, much emboldened by the same. He never has to let you go. 

“Good.” You feel your heart in your ears, ready to explode as he moves his arm back around you, back to your hip to hold you steady, “Mine.” 

Neither of you ever expected that single, life altering word to ever leave his lips.

“Y-Yours?” You can’t help yourself, you need to make sure you heard him right. Needed to make sure this whole thing wasn’t a dream. That his lips, slowly kissing along the ridge of your shoulder are real and not a figment of your imagination. 

Though he doesn’t say it again, doesn’t will himself to. Instead the sound you hear is something low, one you’ve never heard him use against you. A gentle growl lodged in the back of his throat, confirming it. Confirming everything for your head and your heart to hear. 

“Yours…” You try again, tilting your head to the side, giving him more room. He hums in assurance, in want. 

You think you could die happy. 

The impossible. The impossible is claiming you for himself. Is holding the heart of the love struck college student, the nervous new-hire, the assured scientist all in the palm of his hand. Is confirming your affections. Confirming the fire brewing deep in your belly. The coals that have been slowly and tenderly cared for over time. 

Yoongi and the storms– they’re both your impossible, your fate finding reality. 

“Y-Yoongi I—” He tilts your chin, cutting you off mid sentence. Passion alight beneath the subtle glow of amber that robs you of your words. Lets you know exactly what you need to. Makes the fire burst into flames as his fingers gently dig into your hip, makes your entire body heat as he rubs in gentle circles. 

“I don’t like him.” He grunts, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Keeps you from me.” 

“No one can keep me from you.” The reply is instant, your lips barely missing his. “You’re for me.”

God, and at that moment you know that the prettiest noise in the world is Yoongi’s quiet groan. The way his eyes close, the way he practically pulls you down into his lap sends you into overdrive. The way he slowly rolls his own up is enough to send you into a puddle of your former being. 

The rest of the world is gone, entirely melted away from reality. Now, now it’s just you and Yoongi. Cornered away from the rest of the bar, out of sight. Out of mind. Just his hands slowly moving your hips to be seated on just one of his thighs, his tail making sure you’re secure. Just your scent driving him crazy.

He can tell how wet you already are. He can tell how much you want him, just as he wants you. 

The contact is rough, a little maddening. His jeans pressing up against yours, the thin cotton of your panties not doing much to stop the harsh heat. But you don’t want it to stop. You want him to do whatever he wants. 

“You’re wet.” He isn't shy to admit it. Isn’t shy to admit the smell invading his nose. Isn’t shy to let you know exactly what it’s doing to him with the rock of your hips. Letting you feel something hard pressed right against your back. 

“Shut up…” You instantly complain, whining as you lean your back against his chest, further into his touch. He cracks a soft smile at your words, rocking you back and forth so slowly, so carefully. Letting you feel every flex of the muscle, every rough movement of the jean against your clit. Savouring every second now that the threat of the other man has dissipated. Taking his time in case all of this is a dream and he will have to give you up tomorrow. 

“Why? Not cute when I say it?” He chuckles, jumping his leg slightly off the ground, sending a wave through your body. A shock of pleasure to the system that has a gentle moan tumbling from your lips. That has your hips sending a gentle buck back. That has your brain feeling as though it might become mush.

Yoongi is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it. 

“Hey guys I…” Yoongi’s eyes find Jisung before your own do. Before the flushed expression on your face can quell and certainly before you can find a coherent thought. And suddenly the lazy foreplay in the corner of the bar is gone. Suddenly Yoongi is no more than an animal once again. 

“O-Oh! Jisung! S-sorry let me just–” You try, but there isn’t any use. No, Yoongi is pissed you even said his name. Pissed you tried to move away from him. Why would you try to move away from him? A predator with his m– prey being stolen right out from under him. A predator that has everything to gain and everything to lose. 

Yoongi isn’t thinking anymore as he stands, just barely keeping you upright as he pulls you away. Grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, locks the door once you’re both inside. 

Sanity is no longer present. Only the jealousy he feels inside. Only annoyance at the other man for trying to take you away from him. You said he was yours, that he was made for you. And the other predator dared try to take you? Take you from him when you were about to share something so sweet?

Yoongi knows he isn’t thinking right. Knows he might regret it in the morning– but he also knows if he doesn’t do something now he’ll regret it even more. For once, for once in his life he wants to be selfish. For once in his life he wants to forget he can’t ever have you because he’s a hybrid. For once he just wants you. 

You’d let him have you. Over and over again. For the rest of your lives. 

“Yoongi what are you–” He cuts you off with his lips against your own for he doesn’t know the answer. He’s letting himself just exist for once. Exist in the way he wants to without care. And all he wants right now is to kiss you. 

You couldn’t want anything more. Have been waiting your entire life to feel the press of his lips against your own. Kiss him back without a second thought– without reprieve. Let your mouth slip open easily for him, let everything get as messy as he wants. 

The time for gentle foreplay is over. No, now is the time to consume. 

Without a second thought he lifts you by your hips, your hands falling into place against his shoulder. Letting him lead, letting him take control as he fits his body against yours with such perfect harmony. Nobody would doubt you’re two pieces of the same puzzle, ready to fit together for the rest of eternity. 

He groans when he feels your hips press against his, as he feels your heat seep through layers of clothing. Cusses when he finally pulls back, sees the saliva collected at the corner of your lips. The hazy look in your eye that tells him you need him just as much as he needs you. That you want him so terribly you can’t help but fall against him for love, for safety. 

It’s just the alcohol.

Yoongi practically growls at his own thoughts, his tail rising in defence, in defiance against his own brain. Forcing the thoughts away, forcing everything away other than your body in the room. Other than your desire in the room. 

When his mind is no longer clouded he can come to terms with all of this, come to terms with his feelings and shove them so far back down they’ll never see the light of day– but now, right now he needs this. Needs it more than anything. 

“Want you.” He grunts, his knees falling onto the dirty bathroom floor. His hands splay against your thighs, feeling them. Worshipping the skin as if it is an altar. As if you’re his religion. “Can I?”

He doesn’t have to ask, he doesn’t need to. He would never have to ask you. Every single time you’d fall for the storm that is Min Yoongi. Over and over again. As if it’s as easy as breathing, as easy as thinking. 

The answer is even easier now– as your heart beats in your ears, as arousal pools in your gut. As his blunt fingernails dig themselves ever so slightly into your flesh, begging for entry. Begging for you to just give in. His cheeks a flush, his hair already a wreck. His chest rising and falling and thinking just for you. 

He looks like a god. 

“W-want you.” Your stutter makes you feel meak, but his groan of approval makes you feel strong. Makes you feel like your bubble has been popped, like the world finally has meaning past tornados and cataclysms. 

He takes your approval without any grace. Without a second to even think before he’s pulling your pants down with such hunger, such carnal need. His throat releases a groan of desire as your scent hits him at full force, as you give yourself to him. 

He can’t help himself as he presses his face against your panties, his nose right against your clit as he inhales. Takes in all of you for himself. Lets himself be greedy. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You squeak in surprise, the noise tapering into a whine. How could he do something so embarrassing! What is wrong with–

You can’t even finish the thought before his fingers pull your panties to the side, his eyes focused directly on your wet, needy cunt. “Smell good.” 

If you weren’t entirely red before, you certainly are now. There is no way you couldn’t be. Not with the hunger in his eyes. The fire in your belly. 

His tongue darts out, licking your pussy directly without a second thought. Parting your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Tasting you, basking in everything you. Listening to the pretty little moan that comes from your parted lips. Falling apart without a second thought. 

And suddenly he’s hungry. Hungrier than he’s ever been in his entire life. Hungry in a way that he’s sure can only be satiated by you. By making you his. 

“Fuck, (Y/n)...” He almost sounds more affected than you are, like he could cum from your taste alone. But he can’t, he won’t let himself. He wants, needs to be inside of you more than everything. Needs to fuck you, consume every part of you like he so selfishly craves. 

“Gotta get you ready…” He’s talking to himself more than to you as he stands again, trying to keep himself from succumbing to the scorpion screaming at him to just claim you as his. He can only be selfish for tonight. This night. “You gonna be quiet for me? Can’t get caught.”

“Please…” Your voice is practically a whimper, practically begging him to just do something, anything. And who is he to deny you of such simple pleasures? Especially when you whine just for him, moan just for him. Jut your hips out ever so slightly to present yourself just to him. 

His thumb finds your clit almost instantly as you call out to him. Rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves with quick, fast precision while another digit presses against your leaking hole. Preparing you, getting you ready for the intrusion. 

Your voice is a siren’s song, and Yoongi then knows why pirates used to get lost at sea. Used to become entrapped by the mermaids that sang for them. He feels himself going crazy now, as your head tilts back. As your cunt flutters around nothing, begging him to slide his finger inside just as you both desperately crave. 

A buck of your hips is all he needs to fuck the digit inside, trusting it in and out slowly. Making sure it goes as deep as it can before curling and slowly retracting. Increasing pace with the volume of your sounds, with the circle of your clit. Combining sensation, driving you further and further into the clouds with every movement. 

It is then you know that his hands are a deadly poison, one you know you will fall apart to. Especially with the gentle sounds of his grunts, with the push of a second finger into your hole. With his heated gaze focused on nothing but how well you’re taking him, how you’re stretching so prettily around his fingers. 

You place your hand over your mouth, try to keep your moans to a minimum. Try to suppress every little sound that threatens to spill past your lips. Yet you can’t help it, how could you when he knows exactly where to curl his fingers? When they press right against that little bundle of nerves inside. When they rub against you so perfectly. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You accidentally shout, your hips bucking in surprise. The band growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen. Your eyes clouding with pleasure as your head feels lighter and lighter. 

He only smirks, gentle and sinful. “Found it.” 

He thrusts his fingers back in the exact same way, their pace hurried. Concise. Locating that exact same spot over and over again, curling his fingers up just right. Timing the strokes perfectly with a roll of your clit. You feel like you could scream, you’re going to scream.

“Y-You’re so mean!” You whimper, the hand on your clit moving to hold your thighs down. To resist your messy bucking. Resist your adorable begging for more. This other thumb moving to press against your clit instead. 

Then you see it, see the pretty brown thing that had you so enamoured to begin with. Remember just how sensitive it was when you touched it first, and just how mean he’s being to you now. 

With all the clarity you have left in your little brain you reach for his tail, hold it in your tiny hands. Whimper at how big it is, how strong it feels. How much it protects you. And without a second thought, you wrap your lips around the tip of it and moan. Using it as a gag, using it to stop your cries. 

Yoongi suddenly tenses below you, his entire frame shifting as your mouth sucks on the tip. Your eyes closed in concentration, little tears bubbling up in the corners as you whine around him. Fully focused on your pleasure, the feeling of his fingers inside of you– so close to falling apart. 

He thinks he could cum at that second. He’s sure of it. 

A choked groan leaves his own lips as his fingers resume their pace, his senses going into overdrive. No longer thinking, no longer able to do anything but act. But take and take and give and give until there's nothing left.

And god he wants to burn this picture into his brain. Wants to cement it into the rest of his thoughts, his very being. His movements are messier, faster as he fucks his fingers into your cunt. Doesn’t care about the noise as his tail moves on its own, slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your g-spot battered, you clit burning with pleasure. 

Sounds that resemble words fall deaf on your tongue as the band finally breaks, as the world around you spins. As you find euphoria from Yoongi’s fingers. The eye of the storm befalling your very being as electricity moves down your spine as the winds subside. 

You’re left panting in front of him, your walls tightening as he slowly coaxes you through it. Helps you feel every ounce of pleasure that you deserve. Kisses your shoulder gently, softly, watching you come down from your high. 

You can only whine at the affection, the fog lifting for a brief second as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You feel so empty– too empty. You still want him. You still want so much more. 

You try to say his name, try to vocalise but it only sends vibrations down his tail. A groan leaving his lips, heat still heavy in his eyes. You realise his tail is still moving, still slowly moving in and out of your mouth. You know he isn’t finished.

You know you never want him to be. 

You raise your leg up, kicking, trying to push his pants down. Begging them to just drop a little lower. To get his cock out so he can fuck you properly. So he can make you feel so much more full of everything him. 

He lets out a chuckle of a scoff, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as he shakes his head, “Needy.” He grunts, yet he feels the exact same way. Removing his tail from your mouth, finally letting you speak. Ignoring the way his heart hammers at the sight of your puffy, glossed lips. 

“Shut up.” Is the only reply you can muster, hands quickly moving to try and shove his pants down. To try and get him inside of you. He just smiles, the predatory glint never leaving his eyes. The dig of his nails never leaving your thigh. 

Finally, with your messy attempts you urge them down, force the annoying material down his thighs, his boxers moving right along with it. And fuck, you can’t help but gawk. Can’t help but whine because shit, you’ve never seen a cock so pretty! What the hell! That isn’t fair! None of this is fair and he hates you!

“You hate me.” You whimper, letting him take the lead once again. Following as he slowly leans you back, manoeuvres your hips in exactly the way he wants. Presents your puffy, fluttering cunt just for him. Messy and aching, desperate for more. 

“Maybe.” He smiles, teasing you. He’s teasing you! Can you believe that! You certainly can’t, a whine and a gentle smack to his chest telling him everything he needs to hear. Yet you’re forgetting about it all too quickly as you feel the head of something hard gently press against your lips.

In your hazed stupor, you completely missed the action. The way he gripped his cock in his hands, the languid strokes he’s made up and down the length. The way he flicked his thumb over the head just before he decided to so sinfully trace it along your slit. Teasing himself, tracing around your hole with the head. You think he might kill you. 

He thinks much of the same. 

“I’m on birth control.” You messily squeak out of the blue, eyes trained between your bodies where he’s so close. So very close to fucking himself inside. Into being exactly where you want him. Snapping that final line you two could never come back from. 

His eyes dart up to your face, something dark in the iris. Something neither of you address as he finally lets go of his last bit of reserve. As his lips slam into yours, consuming your very being. 

His hand finds your leg, pulling it up, resting it against his hip to draw you closer. In one single thrust drawing all the air out of your lungs, removing all thoughts from your head as he thrusts his entire length inside. Filling you, stretching you in the most perfect way. In a way you never imagined another person could do.

Your cries are drowned by his lips, his own curses lost in the same. The stretch, the burn is subtle, yet you could never want anything less. Anything more than the euphoric feeling of Yoongi feeling your ever being. 

“Shit…” He finally lets himself breathe, let himself have a moment to feel you. Feel your plush walls wrapped around his length, feel you fluttering around him so perfectly. You’re going to make him insane. 

He pants softly, trying to wait– trying to hold himself back from fucking you so hard you can’t walk. So hard he’ll have to carry you out of this shitty bar. So that everyone will know what the two of you did. Just who you belong to. 

You give an experimental wiggle of your hips, a signal to move. A signal to stop holding back. The only signal that he needs. 

“Yoongi!” The cry is loud, but he can’t seem to care anymore. The pace he takes is anything but slow. It's fast, hard. Rushed. Like he can’t wait a single second longer. Can’t waist a fucking millisecond doing anything else other than laying claim to your soul. 

His hips snap against your own, his cock practically hitting your cervix with every thrust. His cock pressed against that same bundle inside every time he draws back, every time he fills you again and again. It’s messy– messy and so wet. So perfect. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He mutters to himself, damp hair falling into his eyes, “Have to be quick, gonna fuck you hard, okay?” 

He drawls, scratchy. Rough. Pressing his hips fully against yours, fully feeling your slick heat. The lewd noises bouncing against the walls, filling the space. Sending a symphony into your strumming ears. Into your already worn out frame. 

You nod in agreement quickly, almost dumbly as you try to fall into a rhythm. Try to meet his movements the best you can. It feels pointless, all of it does. Trying to do anything feels so pointless when he’s fucking you so relentlessly. Like he’s waited his entire life for this moment and he’d rather die than waste another second.

Fucking you like it means something. Like you mean everything.

“Shit, (Y/n). So fucking wet.” He groans, his head rolling back, no longer able to look at the mess between your legs, “So needy.” 

You whine, shaking your head. Trying to gain a semblance of reality when it feels like it has been shattered in the most beautiful way.

“Sh-Shut up!” You whine, your walls clenching around his cock, “A-Am! Am not!” 

Your denial sends a wave of something through Yoongi. Something that makes him growl, that makes his sight darken just a bit more. 

“You’re not?” He scoffs, his eyes finding your own, reading you like an open book, “Little fucking liar.” 

His pace changes, taking shape into a different beast entirely. Something new. His thrusts turn from messy, hurried to sharp and precise– the pace never changing. Every single thrust knocking the wind from your lungs, changing the very shape of your DNA to scream for him and only him.

“Y-Yoongi what the fuck?!” You whine, your head knocking back, hitting the glass behind you. Even more of your brain cells scrambling, trying to stay in reality. Trying not to float off in the great beyond where Yoongi wants you to stay. 

“Hmm?” He grunts, his eyes focused back downwards. Right to where your slick coats him, to where a pretty white ring has formed around the base. He won’t last long. Even if he wants to keep fucking you forever, he knows he’s done for. “Thought you weren’t needy.”

You whine, unable to stop the band from pulling tight in your gut once again. Unable to stop the pleasure from coursing through your veins. Already a wreck– your body warm with sweat and your hole fluttering uselessly around him. Trying to draw him back in over and over.

Never get him to leave. 

His voice is suddenly in your ear, far closer than you remember him being. Far closer than you can manage him being. Fuck, and now his thumb is pressing against your clit again. You don’t know what you can do, what to do. 

“You can cum if you just admit it, human.” You’re going insane. “Tell me how fucking needy you are for me. C’mon, do it. I know you can.” 

It’s over for you. You had no clue Yoongi could ever be like this, no clue just how much you’d want it. How much you’d love it. Even as tears bubble in the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, even as your hips buck up weakly to meet his thrusts. As his cock makes you feel like you’re about to enter the pearly gates. 

You know you love it. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders with so much strength you think they might bruise. Hell, you’re sure he’s bruised your hips. There isn’t much difference. “I-I!” 

“Mhmm..” He hums, sounding entirely unaffected on the surface, yet it’s clear he’s falling apart just as much as you. Clear in the way his hips stutter so slightly, losing their pace. Clear in the way he holds you tighter and tighter. The way his tail curls possessively around your leg. “You can do it. Say it, human.”

“I-I’m needy!” You whine, forgetting your volume, “I-I need you, Yoongi!” 

Just like that, he’s tumbling off the edge. Your words acting as an anchor, as the very thing he’s wanted to hear for years. His hips stuttering inside of you, filling your cunt with his cum without a second thought. 

“Cum, pretty thing.” His voice is guttural. A command as your legs lock around him. His thumb never giving your clit reprise.  while he doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb. Your own release finding you the second you feel his cock twitch inside of you, the moment you feel his cum leak inside. 

Winds swirl at your very being. Lifting you higher and higher into the clouds as your walls clench around him. Milking him for everything, for all he’s worth. Making sure every drop lands inside, making sure you stay nice and full of him while your head wanders into the clouds. While every bit of your being feels fireworks. 

Your legs don’t even let go as the two of you slowly begin to calm down. As your heart rates try to return to normal and air returns to your lungs. As Yoongi’s length slowly begins to soften inside of your cute, worn little cunt. 

You don’t want to let go. You never want to let go. 

His grip slowly softens on your hip. Thumb working to rub slow, gentle circles in their place. His lips finding the column of your throat once more– gentle, nipping kisses find home over the marks he left while sitting at the bar. Not any real bonding  marks like his scorpion may have wanted, but pretty red things that claim your skin in a human way. 

Your fingers find his strands, knotting themselves in them. Keeping his head where it belongs. You’ve never felt more loved, more wanted in this moment. 

You never want it to end. 

“Needy…” He smiles to himself, shaking his head softly. His hair tickles your ear. “Can’t believe you actually said it.” 

“Y-you!” You try, realising how severely you’re still out of breath. You hate how quickly he’s bounced back. “You made me! You ass!” 

He only smiles, shaking his head. Still in complete and utter disbelief that this is real, “I wanted to hear it. You were cute.” 

Your legs finally relax when you whine. They easily fall on either side of him, kicking slightly in petulance as he pulls away from your cunt. Removing himself from you, smiling as his cum starts to collect at your opening. 

This still all has to be a dream for him, it has to be. 

“You hate me!” You repeat again, warmth coming to your cheeks once more as his hands find your cunt. One thump pulling your lip open, letting him see just how much of a mess he’s made you. Letting him watch as his cum drips from your core. 

“Maybe.” He can’t help the fond glow in his eyes as he kisses your cheek. A thought coming to the forefront of his brain that he forces back. Another thought he could never let surface, not even now as you’re stuffed with his cum. 

His scorpion still preens all the same, though. Filled with thoughts of kids. Thoughts Yoongi, the human, not the scorpion, would never say aloud. Drunk, tipsy, or sober. 

He reaches for the dispenser, grabbing a few paper towels before turning on the sink and running them under. Not the best tool, but it will do. 

“Well, I don’t hate you…” You’re blushing as you say the words, almost embarrassed without real reason to be. What you just did, it was so much more than ‘I don’t hate you.’ At least, it wasn’t to you. You hope it wasn’t for him either. 

You help him with his pants, reaching your hands down and pulling them up slowly for him, “I don’t hate you either.” He rolls his eyes, gently cleaning the space between your legs. 

“Awkward if you did.” You huff, lifting your hips as he moves your underwear back in place. Stay hovering as he slides your jeans back up as well. 

He leaves a gentle press against your temple, offering you a hand as you hop off the counter. Hips and legs already entirely too sore, a whine shedding your throat as you let him know the pain. All while he only laughs, patting your butt as he helps you walk.

The picture of domesticity. 

Neither of you address the elephant in the room, both for entirely different reasons. For radically different realities. The morning would be better anyway, you surmise. With fluid thoughts and no liquor in your system. 

You assume Yoongi feels the same way as you both walk home. Gentle shoulders and banter thrown around as casually as ever. The only solid thing the both of you know: you can never go back to that bar again.

God, your fucking head hurts. Maybe?? Maybe everything hurts? When the hell did the sun get so loud?! Since when did light feel like fucking screaming, man?! This isn’t fair! Nothing is fair and the world hates you! Exclusively you, and no one but you!

No, that’s not true. That’s completely illogical, actually. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. Especially when your head is buzzing and your stomach is already growling for some kind of food. 

Oh god, food would be so good right now. Warm steamy pancakes, eggs, some kind of potato with a dash of Yoongi to eat it with like you do every morning. 

Suddenly, the other side of the bed feels entirely too cold. Freezing. A void empty where the warmth you felt last night should reside.

He fell asleep there, you're sure of it. You remember the feeling of his arms around you, the soft snores that left his lips after you both stumbled into bed. Barely getting undressed before falling into your bed. You remember everything about last night. So much so that you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at the memory. The thought of everything done in that dingy bathroom, all the words spoken, the care professed. 

Even if you were tipsy, you would never forget it. You would never regret it. Were waiting to wake up in his arms to make everything official– a long overdue conversation that would finally set in motion your lives together. 

So where the hell is he?

A pout forms on your lips as you stretch, your body too tight for the morning and even more so for your search. The soreness in your hips, the bruises he left from his grip a brutal reminder of his absence as you sit up, your eyes squinting as you scope the scene.

You don’t think you like what you see– it’s a weird feeling, honestly. His bag is gone, his shoes are gone, his clothes are gone. For the first time in all the years you’ve known him, he feels utterly gone. Not a speck of him in your room, not a single sign he was even on this trip with you. 

Does he regret…

The frown pulls deeper as you reach for your phone. You definitely don’t like this feeling. Like he wasn’t even there to begin with after everything that just happened. 

“Ah, stop it.” You say to yourself, one of your hands coming up to gently pat your cheek. You hate where your brain is going so quickly. Maybe you’re just a sop that needed more aftercare than he knew about– yeah, that's probably it. He probably just wanted to go back to his own room and shower before you had to work today. See, that makes much more sense, doesn’t it? You nod your head, almost in agreement with your thoughts. Set on your decision, on the most-likely-possible solution. 

[9:27am] To: Poongie

> Goodmorning :> I hope you slept well 

> Did you wanna go get breakfast at the diner? I think I’m dying and only hashbrowns can fix me unfortunately 

You wish you could say you weren’t affected– wish you could say you weren’t sitting there, waiting for a response. Heart beating out of your chest like a schoolgirl in love. It’s silly, isn’t it? What emotions can make you feel inside and out. How they can seem to affect every part of your being without even trying. 

You suppose storms are the same way. Suppose all natural forces are– the sun, the moon, the stars. They all have their own cosmic power that distils someone at their very core. Leaving them waiting, abating in agony over a simple text back from the man you like. 

You toss your phone to the side, choosing to get ready instead of imagining anymore fantasies. You live in reality, a woman of science. There’s no sense in trying to explain everything you feel, only accepting that you feel it. 

Mmm. As you get dressed, you wonder how long you’ll be able to go on like that for. 

[10:02] From: Poongie

> gm

> i already ate

Oh. You don’t like that. In fact, you hate it so much you want to start making a powerpoint presentation on how to text just for him. But, you give him the benefit of the doubt once more. Yoongi has never been a good texter, anyway. You’re lucky if you can get more than a two word reply from him. He prefers phone calls. 

[10:03] To: Poongie

> So u hate me okay

> Come sit with me tho, I don’t want to look like a loser

> Meet me down there in 5 ;P

You give a soft smile as he reacts to your final text with a thumbs up. It doesn’t leave you feeling the best, but he’s not avoiding you entirely. And he never has been a morning person. Plus, he’s probably hungover too and doesn’t wanna look at his phone screen. You two are fine and last night was amazing. And soon you could make everything official. 

Your smile grows. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes perfect sense. 

You know what doesn’t? A lot of things, actually. Too many to count, but you try anyway. 

One. 

Yoongi walking in 10 minutes late acting like nothing happened. Like you didn’t happen. Just sliding into the seat across from yours, the thick plastic of the booth squeaking while he does so. His hands stuffed in his pants, nothing but a nod in your direction to acknowledge your existence. His face utterly blank, entirely neutral. 

Never once has Yoongi greeted you with less than a gummy smile. A ruffle of your hair. A jab at your tired appearance. But you ignore it– ignore the sense of unease, of dread already building inside. He must really have a bad hangover, poor guy. 

“Goodmorning!” You chirp brightly, a smile of a thousand suns cast in only his direction. Your usual greeting, of course. Maybe just a little extra chipper to balance him out. To try and prepare yourself, maybe to get a little excited for the conversation to come. Pull him out of any awkward tension he may be feeling. 

“Goodmorning.” He simply replies back, his eyes following the waitress as she places a cup of coffee, extra sweet, in front of him. His usual order. Something you’d never forget. Something he knows you’d never forget, but the way he stares into the warm liquid says otherwise. 

His eyes never stray from the cup, like he's thinking. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how. Like he isn’t sure whether to ignore it or bring it to light. 

You know that look well, and you don’t want to ignore it. 

Two. 

He calls the waitress back and orders another coffee. Black. 

He hates his coffee black. You know this. Everyone does. He hasn’t had the stuff since before he met you. You opened him to the world of how delicious sweet drinks can be. So why the hell is he planning on pretending to like something he doesn’t? It makes no sense to you– your expression shows it all. Eyebrows quirking together, lips pushing outwards slightly. 

“Wow, the great Min Yoongi is changing up his order?” A creature of habit never does, you would know yourself, “Hangover that bad?” 

You try to lighten the mood, raise the cloud that hangs above the booth. Or maybe it’s a cloud only you feel, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway, does it? 

“Mmm, you could say that.” He grunts, his chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail curling closer. Almost defensive. Almost.

“God yeah,” The conversation feels stunted, and you hate that even more. “My head has been throbbing since I woke up. I don’t know if I drank too much or not enough.” The banter isn’t flowing as easily, and he curls in on himself even more. Almost like the mere mention of last night rings alarm bells in his mind. 

Oh! Okay, yeah. Maybe he’s just nervous about everything that happened, you know? Maybe he’s worried that you don’t remember, or that you’re having different feelings about it. Maybe his brain is playing the same tricks on him that trickled into your consciousness that morning! 

Yeah, okay. That makes so much more sense now that you think about it. You have to stop beating around the bush, just come out and say everything you think. Everything you feel and you can talk about it. You’ll just bring it up– he obviously isn’t going to, but then you’ll be in a relationship by the time your pancakes come out! Perfect! 

Yet as you look up at him, find his face utterly void of anything, your confidence wanes. 

Three.

He’s refusing to look at you. Another thing he never does. You’re always the one to avoid eye contact, never him. You’re always the one to stare out the window, not him. He normally looks at you. Normally basks in you. 

You feel your mouth drying, all words becoming lost on your tongue the longer you stare at his disposition. You don’t break it as the silence becomes awkward, as he doesn’t try to do anything to fix it. Simply sips at his coffee. His disgusting coffee. 

Drinks it until it empties. Until the pancakes now in front of you remain nearly untouched and cold. Until the world stops spinning and time freezes. As the comet hits and the world ends. As society descends into chaos yet you can’t do anything but look at him. 

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating. But that’s exactly how it feels for some strange reason. How it feels to be unable to reach him. 

It isn’t until he grabs his coat, sliding $30 across the table that you finally gain the courage to speak. Finally blurt out the words sitting on the tip of your tongue for the last 20 minutes. 

“We should talk about last night.” You didn’t expect to say anything honestly, shocked at the air leaving your lungs. 

And finally, finally he looks at you. The diner is still frozen, yes, but now he’s looking at you and for some reason that’s all that matters.

A deep drag of air fills his lungs as he sags his shoulders, rigid disposition weakening in attempt to show signs of aloof. His tail gives everything away. Sharp and pointed. Unnerved. 

“What is there to talk about?” 

Oh. 

“What?” You feel blood leave your face, “Everything. There’s everything to talk about.” 

He sighs, his eyes almost rolling at your words. Everything he does is ten times louder. Ten times greater than any storm, any power in the entire universe. 

Four. 

“Listen, (Y/n). Last night was a mistake, okay?”

Oh.

Is it possible for the Earth to stop rotating around the sun? For the moon to find home in another planet? Is it possible for the rings of Saturn to disband, to crack and shatter, leaving the planet feeling hollow? No more than a gaseous ball floating around an unyielding core forcing it to stay together?

It has to be. Because if it’s possible for Yoongi to say those very words, say the very words that are able to rip your soul from your body, you think anything is. 

You feel something in you crack. Something so fragile and innocent that you want to protect it with your everything. Run far and hide. Nurse it alone until it stops kicking and screaming for its unending pain to yield. For it to have rest in a world that only seems to take and take and take. 

“What?” You don’t even care that your voice cracks. 

He sighs again, his gaze dropping to the table. “I just don’t think there’s anything to talk about, okay?”

“There’s a lot to talk about.” Your eyebrows crinkle, your mouth moving into a frustrated frown. Red isn’t a colour you feel often, but your walls are up. Your bubble now a sphere frozen in time– a place with room for no one but you. Your body curled around that innocent glow. Protecting it. Keeping it warm. “For one, calling it a mistake.” 

He’s rigid again too, maybe red glowing around his form as well. But you can’t seem to care. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Not able to sense the danger. The tail pointed in your direction. Venom dripping from his lips.

“Wasn’t it? We’re friends (Y/n). One stupid night shouldn’t change that shit.” It changes fucking everything. Especially with your pining. Especially with your heart on your sleeve. With your affections for him always oh-so-fucking obvious. 

“Like hell it–” He cuts you off. 

“We’re done with this conversation. Just forget last night ever happened.” He stands, not planning on waiting around anymore. Not waiting for you anymore. “Just act like it never did. Nothing has to change. We’re not talking about this anymore.” 

With that he leaves without letting you speak. Without letting you talk. Shutting you down entirely in a way he never has before. In a way he promised he would never do to you. And for the first time since you discovered your crush on him, you feel something negative simmering for Min Yoongi. 

Q/Hybrids_Humans 

U/YGS_Min  •  posted 5y ago

Can Hybrids and Humans actually fall in love? -> Advice

> Hi. I’m new to this page so I might get things wrong with this post. Sorry in advance if I do. 

> I am a Hybrid and I recently met a girl who I think is my mate. I get all the classic mate feelings someone does when I’m around her. When we first met, a few days ago in the library, I automatically felt a pull towards her. Like I needed to be close to her. Everything in my body, my hybrid side especially, was begging for me to make her my mate right away. She even complimented my tail. Does she even know what that means? What it did to me?

> After that, she gave me her number (I’m helping her with a few things) (we're both ‘in’ college) and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Whenever I open my phone my brain automatically fries and moves to open her contact so I can text or call her. It actually feels a little crazy. 

> She said she wants to be friends and I don’t know what my brain is going to do if we actually get closer. 

>The issue is that she's human, though. So I already know she doesn’t feel the same way about me. She doesn’t feel the bond or the pull to get closer. And she already knows I’m a hybrid so there’s no way to avoid it. 

> I’m also not the most friendly Hybrid, I guess. People don’t like my species. My mom doesn’t even like the way I was born. And I’m lucky enough to get away from where I was before and am living my own life now. Trying to do good things with it. Maybe be human with it, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. 

> Point is, I’ve looked online and while I know legally it is possible to be mates with a human, I haven’t found anything about Human’s with more odd species. And I really just want to know if this could be possible, or if I should give up before things even start. She’s the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. Her mannerisms kill me– I love them. She’s so cute. And she acted like I was just like everyone else. 

> I don’t know. I want her to be my mate. But I just want to know other peoples experiences. I know she’d never be able to love me in the way I automatically do her, but if I told her she was my mate would she feel forced into it? Would she feel like I actually care? Could she ever actually care? Should I do anything about it or just pretend that it was never there in the first place? 

> I never thought my mate might be human. I never thought I'd find my mate. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks. 

6 am. 

Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s slept. He’s not sure he’s ever slept with the exhaustion weighing on his bones. His consciousness. His very being. In fact, all he’s had is his thoughts as the hours have ticked by, unrelenting. Unwavering. As the sun starts to shine through the curtains and the reality of everything that transpired rushes to the surface. Past the alcohol. Past your adorable soft snores. 

He had you. He fucked you. For one night, you belonged to him. 

The first thing he felt after he held you in bed was peace. Complete and utter satisfaction with life, with you. Everything itching at him, pulling him towards you was, for once, content. He no longer felt the burning in his heart or the pulling at his skin to get you closer. The fuzziness in his brain whenever you smiled. All of it was gone. There was nothing but happiness in his being. 

Nothing but the ideas of his dream being true. Of getting to hold you like this every night. Getting you to smile for him, only him. Getting to belong to you in ways humans could never understand. 

In ways you could never understand. 

Something else starts creeping into his consciousness, then. Something starting in the pit of his stomach, rising until it feels like he's choking. Until not even the scent of your shampoo can calm the race of his heart. Not even the pull of his tail drawing you closer to his body– his hybrid side trying to calm him down in ways it only knows how. 

How could Yoongi let himself live in such a sick dream? 

You’re a human. He’s a hybrid. You would never actually love him. 

Your words were drunk– of course they were. Influenced by the alcohol and the idea of a warm body next to your own. Maybe you didn’t even realise it was him, maybe it could have been anyone and you would have been satisfied. 

It’s such an ugly thing, the words he thinks. The ideas that form behind his skull, twisting and turning. Forming an amalgamation of tangles and death defying drops to nothingness. Of the reality of things, his reality that is. One where he’s worthless. One where you are the sun and he is nothing but an asteroid following the orbit of someone else. 

Hybrids are never meant to be with humans. 

He knows that for a fact. Has read all the history books, looked at all the articles, scoured for any sign that the two of you could be together in a society that hates him only to be left with mockery. Left with anonymous strangers telling him that scorpions are meant to kill. Meant to destroy. How could a human ever care about him when his entire life he’s been told it’s the worst parts of himself? How could you care about him?

Well, he knows that isn’t all true. He knows you care in some ways. But they aren’t mate ways and–

Fuck. Fuck Yoongi, he knows he’s not supposed to think of those things. He’s never allowed to think of you and that word together. He forbade himself of it. Promised himself it couldn’t be true. That he would never admit it to you or anyone else. 

You are not his mate. 

But you are. 

But–

He wishes he could get his head to shut the fuck up for a fucking second so he could think. Think about anything other than those two words together, even if he knew them to be true from the moment he met you in the library. When he agreed to be your tutor. When he fell in love the moment you looked his way. 

And even then he thought that maybe, just maybe if you didn’t know he was a hybrid he would have a chance. That if he could keep it hidden for long enough, if you saw him as a human and not a terrifying creature bred only to kill, that you could fall for him. That he could be your mate– boyfriend. That he could be your boyfriend. 

But then you saw it. Saw the fucking thing he wishes he never had, wishes he could live without. The very thing he has been hated for his entire life. His genetic abnormality, originally bred to be used for attack, used by the government to kill. The very piece of his being he rejects time and time again to try and just feel a little more normal, a little more human. And you… you said you liked it. 

And no, you didn’t have any clue what those words meant at the time. Of course you didn’t. Didn’t know what they implied– didn’t know the true meaning they held. The acceptance of courtship behind their very tone. 

A nice tail to a human? Nothing. A nice tail to a scorpion? The very thing used by the hybrid to attract mates? To show their viability and strength as a partner? Everything. 

In that moment, you were everything. 

But you didn’t know the meaning behind those words. You didn’t love him the way he so implicitly did you. And while you accepted him as a friend, you would never accept him as more. He would never let you. 

That night was the night he promised himself you weren’t his mate. Promised himself he had no mate. 

Last night was the first time he ever broke it. 

Last night he could have killed you. 

You had his tail in your mouth. His tail. The tail that carries his venom. The venom bred into his cells meant to kill others. If he let any of it out by accident… if he…

Fuck. 

The heaviness that realisation brings is what finally makes him get out of bed. Finally set in motion reality. Stop himself from living in whatever dream he was playing with. Stop playing house with a girl that would never be his. That would probably think the entirety of last night was a mistake. 

Who gives a shit what you thought. He could’ve killed you. He could’ve killed his fucking mate.

Societally, he could’ve never had you. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you had to face the same things he did on the daily. What others thought of you. What they would say about you if they saw you two together. What would happen with your kids. How much hate and fear you would receive by being with him. 

He could sacrifice his own life for you a thousand times, but he would never let you do the same for him.

And last night. Last night his venom could’ve been your end. 

He doesn’t need to think anymore. He knows what he’s going to do. Even if it hurts him. Even if the grenade is set to go off and destroy his very being, it’s worth it to keep you safe. To keep you content. To keep you away from him.

Best case, you don’t remember last night or don’t bring it up. Worst…

Yoongi knows the ship he’s boarding is bound to sink– that he’s destined to drown. But if it means your happiness, he’d do anything.

The car feels cold. The heat is blasting, but it still feels frozen. Decrepit. All fireplace memories hazing into ice as you ride next to him. 

Him.

Fucking him.

Fucking Min Yoongi. The fucking asshole that tore your heart out and stomped on it. The fucking asshole that didn’t even have the decency to talk to you. To explain why the fuck he was being so cold. The fucking asshole that made you feel loved. Like you weren’t alone in the entire universe, only to make you realise you were trapped in a metal box– steaming. Bubbling.

Maybe you aren’t cold. No, you definitely aren’t. You’re steaming. Burning up– ready to explode at the slightest thing. Still a burning blaze because he didn’t fucking let you talk. Just shut you down without a second thought. Without fucking anything.

Not that he owes you anything– he doesn’t owe you a relationship. He doesn’t owe you love, of course not. You’re not dumb enough to think that. But you do know he owes you an explanation. A chance to speak. Years of friendship tell you that much. 

Promises tell you that much. 

And you can’t fucking stand broken promises. Can’t stand acting like strangers after years of friendship. After all the time spent together. After all of the memories formed, all the bonds created. You don’t deserve to be treated like nothing. 

Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even come with you today if you hadn’t texted him. Probably assumed you’d rather go alone or with one of the other people on the crew. Probably– shut up, you decide in that moment to stop making excuses for him. To stop giving him the benefit of the doubt when he treated you as no less than a one-night-stand. A fuck that meant nothing. 

Were fucking years of friendship just for that? Just so he could fuck you? This fucking–

You scoff to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. Shaking your head. An outloud reaction to the continued spiral that started this morning, that will continue to brew until it inevitably boils over. Until the pot filled with too much water gets too hot and just boils over. 

You never have been able to keep your opinions in. Open book pages laid out for the world to see. Another reason you’ve always been alone– should have stayed alone in your bubble. 

“What?” Oh, he wants to talk to you now? 

Your eyes shoot over to his figure from the corner of your eye. You can’t believe that yesterday you were smiling at him. You hate that today a piece of you still frets at the trapping of his fingers against the wheel. At his apparent aloof demeanour is automatically disillusioned by the simple movement indicating his nerves. 

He always does that when he knows a big storm is coming– when he’s worried about safety, your safety. When he's concerned about whatever events are going to follow. A tick tick tick, fingers tapping delicately one after the other. Not a harsh grab against the wheel, not an unease of temperament. Yoongi, even when nervous or agitated, has always been gentle. 

Well, every time except for this morning. 

You roll your eyes. 

As much as you hate how self destructive you become in times like these, you hate the bubbling feeling even more. Hate the strong emotion that floods your veins, the same one that makes you feel oh-so weak. The same one that makes you need to be strong. Need to be more.

Maybe you wish you could be more like Yoongi– be entirely unaffected by the strong feelings that permeate your being. Maybe you wish you could act as ‘chill’ as him. To separate how you feel from who you are. To be calm even if you want to be brash. 

But you can’t. Not when it's about him. Never when it’s about him. Almost like a piece of you continues and will always pull you towards Min Yoongi. 

You turn away from him, back to the laptop resting in your lap. “The PAR says a tornado is forming north-east. Head North so we can drop the doppler in the right position.”

“Mm.” He grunts. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything. 

You don’t know what you expect him to do anyway. You didn’t give him anything to work with. Yet it doesn’t seem thinking logically is on the table, and you can’t help but get more mad, more frustrated by the second.

“Are we really not going to talk about this?” You’re quiet, almost vulnerable when you ask the question. So quiet he might not even hear. Hanging on the precipice, two winds twisting against each other in equal strength. 

Never have you felt this way about another person before. Dejection and anger weigh equally on the soul. You don’t quite know how to handle it. Don’t know how to combat what you’re feeling inside, just knowing the kettle is set to boil. 

He doesn’t answer your question. 

It was probably a bad idea to text him. Probably equally bad for him to answer and take you. An even worse idea to let the words slip out of your mouth without holding them back.

“Asshole.” The wind starts to pick up speed around the car, sucking you in. Pulling you deeping into the void. It’ll be no time at all before the tornado hits. 

“What?” His head jerks backwards, chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail coiled firmly behind him, acting like it isn’t even there. Trying to pretend he isn't there, maybe. 

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” You can’t help the rumble that forms in your heart, the twisted words that spew from your mouth. The subtle ache from every insult you fling. 

Almost like you’re attached to him. Like you’re attempting to sever a chain never meant to come undone. 

“What the fuck?” Why he’s acting so scandalised, flinching at every word, leaves you almost confused. Almost. Because he has no reason to be confused, at least not in your eyes. Not in the storm's eyes either. 

The rumble of thunder hammers outside, deeper into the freeze. Deeper into ash. 

“I thought we were going to move past this, (Y/n). We need to be adults here.” He sighs that stupid fucking sigh that you hate. The same one he used in the diner. The same one he used to brush off your feelings. Your chance to speak. 

Maybe later you would reflect on how selfish you’re being. Maybe later you would realise how childish you actually are acting. But right now all you can see is red. Right now all you can feel is a part of yourself trying to rip away. 

Maybe later you would find out Yoongi is feeling the exact same thing. 

But right now, right now all you see is red. All you hear is the beating of hail against the car roof, the image that it is your own heartbeat set in your own mind. Right now all you know is the soul crushing weight of the only man you ever loved pulling away.

Your soulmate– if such things were real, breaking the bond. 

“Are you serious? I’m the one that needs to be the adult here? Me?” You scoff, indignant. “You’re the one playing pretend, acting like nothing happened!” 

“I told you that we shouldn’t talk about it.” 

“You said it was a mistake.” Your eyes are set firm in a glare pointed at him and no one but him. Petty and Spite are your new best friends. Congratulations! “Just tell me if you fucking regret it Yoongi, just tell me.”

“(Y/n).” 

“Was it a drunk accident? Did you think I was someone else? Please! I rather you say fucking something than nothing at all! Please just let me be selfish for once! I’m begging for something! Anything!”

…

“We have a job to do. Focus on it rather than us.” You hate that he paused before he spoke, that it gave you some sort of hope. You hate even more that his tone has not once changed– settling from incredulous to neutral. Almost like he exists as nothing but a robot reciting lines. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it. 

He makes you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. He makes it feel like your feelings mean nothing. Like everything you trusted him with was all for naught. Are you not expressing yourself well enough? Are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing wrong?! What's wrong?!

“You’re serious?” The logical side of you says he’s right, your job is more important than anything else. But the piece of you falling apart, pulling away and leaving an empty hole inside feels otherwise. You’re convinced you’ve never felt any emotion other than frustration and annoyance. 

The car rolls to a stop as a clearing hits– hail ceasing, wind slowing even if it's just a fraction.  A calm before the storm. Where you’re meant to ‘dO yOuR jOb’-- fucking asshole. Does he really think you don’t know that? Does he really think that little of you?

“Fucking joke.” You can’t help the dry laugh that exits your lungs as you step out of the car. Your peace, the time you love to spend most in the world set askew, your feelings anything but. You love your time in the storms, but the tornado brewing inside casts a much larger shadow than the one overhead. 

Your hands fumble as they move the DOW out of the trunk– an action you’ve done time and time again feeling entirely foreign. Your body clumsy as it carries it to the front, your mouth spewing annoyed half thoughts all the way. 

“What?” Yoongi’s window is rolled down, his head leaning out of the front as he asks. 

Your eyes circle your skull again, “Fucking joke!” You call, trying to set up the radar. Your body only half in the moment. Half in the clouds. 

“This whole thing is one big joke!” You shout, foot kicking the dirt beneath your feet. The storm beginning to dissipate, a swell of rain forming behind your eyelids instead. 

“(Y/n) are you serious?!” You hate that his own frustration feels like a punch to the gut. 

“I have been this whole time!” You shout, brain finally working to kick the last pieces of the radar in place. In good time too, the wind is picking up again. The tornado will be coming soon. 

“Are you?! Are we seriously not going to talk about this?!” Your voice doesn’t feel like your own. It feels foreign, like something deeper inside is speaking for you– like it’s taking control. “Am I seriously just a cheap fuck to you?! Was I really a mistake, Yoongi?! Please, please just tell me.” 

“(Y/n), don’t do this to me…” Don’t do this to him? Don’t do this to him?! Does he realise what he’s doing to you? Does he even fucking care? You told him you want him! That nothing could keep you from him– and he doesn’t even have the decency to reject you properly. 

Maybe you're the bad guy– the villain for forcing this. For the path of destruction it might cause. But you truly can’t stand this. And maybe, just for once, the consequences mean as little to you as getting swallowed by the storms you’ve always cared for.

Yoongi is your impossible, remember? “But it’s always been about you! Don’t you get that, Yoongi?! It’s always! Always been about you from the second I met you!” You yell, not holding back your shouts. Letting them echo with the thunder coursing through the skies, coursing through your veins. “I’m not asking you to love me! I’m not asking for any of that shit! I just want a rejection!” 

What? What the hell are you saying? Why are you asking him to do that? Why are you asking him to do the one thing he can’t do?

He loves you. He loves you so much it keeps him up at night. That it infests his days like a parasite. You’re not asking him to love you? Are you crazy? Do you not see how he looks at you? Do you not see that you’re the person that’s hung all the stars in the night sky?

He can’t reject you. He can’t. His brain won’t let him form the words– his lips never to curl in the right shape to let them out. He can’t reject you because he doesn’t want to– because it would practically kill him to. 

He loves you. You’re his mate.

Why couldn’t you just make this easy? Why couldn’t you reject him? Why did you have to look so broken this morning? Why did you like him back? What does it mean? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to keep fighting when he knows he could have you for himself, for real? 

How is he supposed to protect you from him when it feels like he’s ripping a part of himself out when he tries to? He doesn’t want to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. He just wants to keep you safe. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t he just have you?

‘No one can keep me from you. You’re for me.’

Your words from last night ring in his ears. Existing as the only thing he can hear, the only thing that matters. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe– 

A sharp beeping suddenly penetrates his ears, a sound resonating from your laptop. A map laid out of the tornado's path.

It's formed– its body barrelling straight for you. 

Yoongi looks scared, nervous. His tail uncurling from behind him. Reaching out the window, reaching out to you. “(Y/n)! Get in the car!” 

“Shut up!” You’re not listening to him, not listening to a word he says, “I’m not even worth a rejection?! Our friendship means nothing, huh?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” His breathing is accelerating, his heart rate going crazy. He needs to get to you. He needs to protect you. To get in the car and drive as fast and as far as he can so nothing bad happens. “Get in the car!”

“Why does it even matter if I do or not?!” You yell over the sounds of rushed winds, ignoring debris that begin to fly past. Ignoring everything but the man in front of you, just like you’ve done time and time again. “If I get in, you’re just going to pretend nothing happened! You’re going to– you’re going to–” 

Tears begin to clog your vision, your words welling up in your throat. Scratching the inside, making you feel like you can’t breathe. Can’t think. Where you want to be strong, you are weak. And where you want to be weak, you feel strong. It’s a strange sort of feeling. 

“I can’t just fucking pretend like nothing happened last night, Yoongi!” A sense of peace washes over you, a complete contrast to the storm surrounding, enveloping the world. Acting as a monster, not caring about your feelings, swallowing everything whole. You finally feel at peace, oddly enough.

“I can’t– I can’t just act like everything’s fine! I’ve always been so fucking shit at that, you know that!” You throw your arms up in defeat, standing right in the path of the storm. Almost ready to watch the tornado come into view, to become the storm yourself. “But it feels like– it feels like you’re killing a part of me! Like you’re, you’re pulling out a piece of my very being and I don’t know why! It doesn’t feel real! And I don’t know if I can live without it!” 

What? It feels like– it feels like that for you? 

Yoongi steps out of the car, his tail curling almost too pleased at his human side’s actions. If it was anyone else, they would think you’re crazy. They would think you’re just being manipulative without a care in the world– but to Yoongi, to hybrids, he knows exactly what you're talking about. He knows the exact same thing. Has felt it every day of his life since he decided he couldn’t have you. 

The mate bond. The soulmate tie that will always lead two halves of a conjoined soul together over and over again. 

You feel it. Humans aren’t meant to feel it but you do. You feel the same pull, the same bone crushing heartbreak upon rejection from your mate. The same– the same everything Yoongi feels. 

He’s the one that's been hurting you like this, the one hurting himself by acting the same. In his bid for protection, he did the opposite. What kind of fucking mate is he? Why didn’t he just listen to the bond? Why didn’t he just let himself follow his heart?

Everything he’s dealt with in his past no longer carries any point. The comments under his stupid post to that stupid forum mean nothing. The words of his “family” are jack shit. The societal implications of him being less than human mean even less– you never saw him as less. His mate cares. His mate sees him.

This is what having a mate feels like? Yoongi thought he would never know. Never understand. But the warmth that feels him now, the subtle yearning he’s suppressed rises to the surface. His feet carrying him automatically, urging him to find you. To take care of you. To keep his mate safe. 

“We have to go!” He rushes, his legs moving quickly to try and meet your form. To try and find you. 

“No! No!” You shout, your foot stomping into the Earth. In any other scenario, he’d be shaking his head. Laugh at your antics. But right now, all he cares about is getting you to safety, and working on both of your communication skills. “I need you to tell me I’m a mistake! I need you to say I meant nothing!”

There you stand, arms open. Wind rushing past you, eyes closed yet looking straight ahead. You could never mean nothing, you mean everything. It’s his own stupid fault he ever let you think otherwise. 

“I just said what I needed to say!” He shouts, his body finally meeting yours in the open field. His hands land on your shoulders, trying to ground you. Hair  blowing around him, sticks flying past but never hitting the two of you. Almost like this needed to happen, like fate was set in stone for this very moment. 

Your eyes slowly open, and Yoongi thinks the world freezes around him. Misty watersheds sit in your tearline, your eyebrows forming together in confusion with his words. Your lungs raising and falling quickly, chest panting with effort held back. Emotions yet to be unraveled. 

If you feel the bond now, how long have you felt it? How confused you must’ve been. Yoongi feels awful. 

“Wh-what?” Your voice cracks, cheeks warm and irises searching for an answer. What is he doing? Why is he saying this now? Why does some part of you feel whole again? 

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t quite know how to articulate his words. But his body does. His body does what it’s been begging to do since he met you in that library. That he’s been holding back from every day of his stupid, (Y/n)-lacking life. 

He leans in, his lips pressing against yours roughly. Trying to tell you all the words he never said, trying to put everything, all of him into one measly kiss. One that means something. One that tells the story of the two of you. 

You, you can’t do anything but listen. Your eyes closing, your body returned whole. The piece of you pulling away settling back into your heart like stone. Warmth flooding your veins, home filling your very being. Making you feel safe, making you feel cared for. 

And when he finally pulls away, you hear the words you’ve always longed to know, “I love you and I’m sorry.” 

Yoongi feels free upon their utterance. A ball chain holding him back breaking– reality setting the world into motion once again. The earth that needs to keep spinning, that needs to keep the two of you afloat. 

You should feel mad, but you can’t feel anything but peace. But feel like your soulmate has returned home from a voyage you would never understand.

Before anything else can be said, Yoongi snaps his head to the left. His eyes going wide as the winds begins to form in front of him. Looking as if they’re not moving. As if nothing is moving. “Fuck, fuck.” 

He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the car as it starts to take focus in front of your mind, too. Fuzzy feeling fading, eyes going wide as you scramble from his door into your seat. He follows in quickly after you, not even thinking to buckle before taking off. Driving as if his life depends on it– your life depends on it, too. 

Sticks flying past the windshield, hitting against the body. Thunderous roars of the world being consumed outside. A tail pressing against your frame, holding you steady. Keeping you in place.

It’s only when you come to safety that all the words needing to be said finally spill out from both of your mouths. When everything is set ‘right’ again instead of feeling oh-so-wrong. It’s only then that he explains everything. That he explains his logic, that he explains how hybrids have soulmates. Don’t forget the scolding he gave– the promises made to each other that the other would never do something so stupid again.

He knows you meant them.

He’ll never forget the way you smiled at him then. When the heaviness left the air and the freedom surrounding the car became almost overbearing. He wishes he could tattoo the places you playfully slapped into his arm. Where you scolded him for keeping this from you. When you told him you would never have a second thought about rejecting him.

When you told him you could never think of a life where he isn’t your mate. 

“...Or boyfriend. Or partner. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You’ll never forget his gummy smile in that moment, when he has a possessive hand on your thigh. 

“I don’t care. I just want to be yours.” 

Wind wraps at your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself a messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in his ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person. 

But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon. 

And Yoongi? He can’t help but think you look like an angel enthralled in the storm. One that came to earth. One that was meant to find him. One that was created just for him. 

He can’t help but bask in you– bask in his mate as you live in your freedom, your happiness. Gets to be one of the lucky few finding sanctuary in your world. In your bubble made just for you. 

He smiles to himself as he watches. Shakes his head like a stupid boy in stupid love that couldn’t be happier. He’s so happy. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening a familiar app that he once looked to for advice all those years ago. Going to the same post he read the replies to over and over again– convincing himself that his impossible couldn’t be reality. He shakes his head as he reads them now, almost feeling foolish for believing him in the first place. Why should he have asked on a human forum anyway? It’s like he was asking to be let down. 

As he scrolls, his thumb comes to a stop above a comment he’s never seen before— a recent one. Posted just a few months ago. 

RMB_Joon

> Hey! This post is being talked about a lot on another forum specifically for hybrids! :-) I left the link for you as I think it would be a lot more helpful getting perspectives over there! :-) PM me if you ever want to talk.

Yoongi feels a curl of interest grow in his gut. Other hybrids? Interest in his post? He almost wants to know more. Almost wants to follow the inkling leading him to delve deeper into the world of others. 

“Yoongi!!” You shout, waving his attention over to where you stand. And suddenly, he doesn’t care about anything else anymore. How could he when he has the whole world in front of him? 

He chuckles to himself, marking his post as ‘resolved’ before tucking the device into his pocket. His legs catching into a jog, joining you at your side. Exactly where he should be. Where he’s meant to be.

⋆𐙚 WAHH THERE IT IS!!! I hope you all enjoyed <\\33 pls let me know any of your thoughts!! this is officially the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I put a lot of myself into this piece so I hope u all love it and it isn’t too skdhsksks yk?? MWAH ily © all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate. 

[temis-de-leon]

When they don't know you as well as they thought they did

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: the boys are crushing on MC and it's implied MC is crushing as well, but there isn't any established relationship. Just friends feeling things for their friend, very common. Self-insert, perhaps?

A/N: this is just fluff, very silly, a little ooc maybe, but I'm not sure. I just wanted to make something fun and lighthearted after the recent news.

.

No one is surprised anymore at the firmness the brothers speak with when they call you part of the family. Between the pacts and the unsolicited free therapy, it’s only fair, and only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see the affection running through the House of Lamentation.

Still, there are instances every once in a while where, although it’s difficult at the beginning, the boys have no other choice but to accept the fact that you have a completely different life back in the human world and they may not know you as good as they would like.

It starts with the small things; embarrassing conversations where their ignorance gets you to laugh like a maniac more than a couple of times. There they are, blushing in self-consciousness while you cackle uncontrollably because they believed some urban legend about a faceless suited man with freakishly long arms.

Then, slowly, but surely, it turns into more personal things about you, like your irrational, downright, phobia of lizards or the fictional characters you’re surprisingly attracted to.

(Some of those aren’t human, which makes them all feel a strong sense of hope, but you don’t need to know that).

The brothers learn about your studies, favourite subjects and what you’d like to do with your future, even if it sounds hopeless or unlikely. They also keep every bit of information about your friends and family; little comments that you let go here and there and help them understand why you are someone they love so much.

The whole situation evolves in such a way that inviting them to your birthday party in the human realm seems to be the obvious next step.

‘It’s so I can celebrate it with all my loved ones’ you say, and they really can’t deny your offer after that.

So, after a few awkward introductions and half-truths about their origin, everyone is happily talking to each other and eagerly waiting for their turn to be with you.

.

Lucifer, who has had a special interest in your family for a while, finds himself chuckling in understanding when your mother complains about the occasional mess in your room. In your defence, he feels obligated to partially throw his brothers under the bus and blame them for keeping you in a constant state of disarray, but then she says something that… perplexes him.

You don’t like perfection? His eyes open wide at the revelation and your mother chuckles, misinterpreting his expression. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he represents, after all.

Just how vast is the veracity of that statement? Does it refer only to a state of mind or do you apply it to everything else?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to feel too anxious before he remembers the little details. When your triumphal smile shone in the dimness of his room that time he made a silly mistake in chess, ultimately granting you the win; or when the Anti-Lucifer League managed to leave his hair unkempt for an entire day, which got you to shamelessly look at him for longer than any of his younger brothers would’ve ever liked.

Not being perfect isn’t something he would ever do consciously and he had always found solace in the fact that you like him despite his mistakes. However, knowing you actually like him because of those mistakes? Perhaps letting those cracks show in his façade isn’t so bad as long as it is for you.

.

Not far from him, Mammon chats with your human best friend. There’s an air of competitiveness between them, both wanting to be the ultimate best friend, but it all stays light-hearted. There’s no real threat when Mammon gets to be your first demon, you know? It’s a unique position!

But he still makes sure to assert dominance by stating he would’ve made the perfect party for you, better than the one you’re currently enjoying; with food and decorations from the Devildom and the Celestial realm included, matching outfits and, of course, keeping everything hidden so you can have the best surprise of your life. He had thrown a lot of those with Asmo’s help back home, so he knows you love them!

Or he thinks you do, at least.

Your friend sniggers harmlessly when they hear that last part, pointing at him with an infuriating smartass attitude, and immediately shatters Mammon’s reality.

What the heck do they mean, you don’t like surprise parties? He’d done a lot of those back at the Devildom and you’d never complained, appreciative as you are, even helping him do the same for other’s birthday parties!

Sure, you had always looked dumbfounded by the loud cheering and the confetti after stepping through the door, but that was part of the fun… right? You would tell him if you wanted him to stop, wouldn’t you?

He feels a pang in his heart when the idea of you being uncomfortable for his sake appears in his mind, but it doesn’t make sense. While you undeniably treat him better than anyone else in all of the realms, you still correct him when you see fit and him making you unhappy on your own birthday would be one of those occasions.

He trusts you to confide in him when things are wrong just as much as you trust him to do his best. That’s what friends are for, after all.

.

And where else would Levi be if not hidden in a corner playing with his DDD?

He had tried mingling with people at the party, or at least tried hanging around them, he swears, but conversations became repetitive and boring and then he received a notification for a daily reward from one of his apps, so, of course, he had to sit down to collect it. Then minutes passed as he completed minigames to power up his cards and… you get the idea.

So when a friend of yours walked towards him, complimenting the pins and badges on his bag and the faint music coming out of his headphones, sure, the evening started going way smoother.

He talks enthusiastically, just like any other time his interests are mentioned, wildly gesturing with his hands and letting the little bubble around them be full of their eager exchange. However, a casual lament from his companion stops him right in his tracks.

It’s a shame you don’t like anime…? His first reaction is to laugh, enumerating everything you’d watched, and later commented on, with him under a blanket in the tranquillity of his room, but the utter surprise in your friend’s face leaves him speechless.

You really don’t like it? But… But he’s made you see so many things! Did you like any of them? Did you lie to his face when you said you enjoyed them? He would’ve never chosen a best friend like that; you were not like that and he refused to believe the contrary.

Also, would a liar buy merch on their own like you did? Would they watch the best episodes again or listen to the soundtrack on repeat when they had a bad day? This new revelation only makes him aware he was the one to change your perspective of the fine arts and he’s damn proud of that.

You are still getting an earful when you get back home, though.

.

Satan thinks the kid is a young cousin of yours, but he really hasn’t been paying attention to anything in a long while. How could he, when the enthusiastic toddler had taken their mother’s phone just to show him the family cat’s pictures and videos?

A Mackerel tabby cat, too chubby for his own good but not enough to be actually concerning; playing with feathers, blinking slowly, bumping his head against legs and shoulders, meowing sweetly and, basically, opening his heart in half and making it roam inside his chest like a butterfly.

What a good party.

He mentions all the stray cats behind his house, obviously leaving behind the name of the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, and all the times you’ve gone with him to feed them and play. Satan even shows pictures on his DDD and stops with an adoring expression when you appear on the screen, sitting on your toes with a kitty on your knees and smiling past the camera, straight at Satan.

However, what he hears next takes the air right out of his lungs. He sits down and clutches his pearls and the kid stares at him in anxious confusion, clearly witnessing but not understanding the severity of his distress.

Who, in their right mind, doesn’t like cats?

He remembers the first few times you had accompanied him to his route, intimidated and slightly lingering behind. Initially, he had assumed it was due to the novelty of your friendship or a possible fear of Devildom fauna, but nothing against cats!

Were you afraid of them or just plain uninterested? Why keep going with him if you weren’t as fond of them as he thought you were? Wouldn’t it be because of him, would it?

A warm feeling covers him like a blanket, makes him search for you with his eyes and then immediately blush when you excitedly wave at him, point at the kid and mouth ‘Cute cat!’

Yeah. Very cute.

.

On the other hand, Asmo hangs out with the people responsible for the decorations of the party and compliments them on their work. The colours are well-coordinated, there’s nothing out of place and the distribution was thought with all the guests in mind.

Although he hasn’t been able to help in that regard, he’s made sure you would be the centre of attention that evening; a complicated feature coming from him, but he had never minded sharing the main spot just as long as you were the one by his side; and everyone knows that.

You look cute and pretty and hot in your outfit, a style that both compliments and pleases you. You also worked together in your makeup for hours before getting to the party.

However, taking that much time might have been due to scrolling through social media and gossiping so much, but never mind that. Everyone agrees you look incredible and that is more than enough for him.

It isn’t until one of your friends mentions how weird it is to see you wearing makeup that he dares take his eyes away from you to stare at them in disbelief.

He would’ve never guessed that given that one of your favourite pastimes together is makeup as a whole: going shopping, watching tutorials, following trends, doing your own next to each other, doing each other’s… And, even if he wants to use it, his charming power is useless against you, so he knows you do your makeup because you want to and not because you feel forced by him.

Whether it’s something you share because you enjoy it or something you enjoy because you share it with him, he isn’t sure, but he can swear on his precious damned soul that makeup isn’t a need for you.

It’s just a bonus to your beauty.

.

Sitting at one of the tables, Beel is simultaneously talking to your older sibling while gulping down an entire plate of bite-sized snacks; thankfully, whatever apprehension anyone felt at his hunger died hours ago and now the conversation flowed more naturally, mainly centred around you.

As much as he loves having you near him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation and thinking of you as another member of the family, he is very interested in knowing how your human family is, especially your siblings. It’s another way of relating to you and making him feel closer.

Plus, he gets to know stories from your childhood you may never tell him on your own; anecdotes that will stay at the table he is currently sharing with your sibling.

Unfortunately, they reach a point where, although he wants to keep asking questions about you, doing so with a mouth full of food might end up with Lucifer’s scolding of the year. Also, he really wants to make a good impression.

So your sibling begins asking the questions. Surprisingly, they start with his tattoo; dark red curling around his muscles and almost going unnoticed under the colours of dusk. Beel smiles without giving it any importance because it really doesn’t have it, but forces himself to stop gulping down food when your sibling throws a fun fact about you.

You find tattoos attractive?

He feels an instant burning on his cheeks followed by the rapid beating of his heart and a knot in his stomach, but there’s also a faint unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.

You’ve never asked him about his tattoo, barely sparing a glance at it when you worked out together or he took off his jacket.

He wonders if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t look good on him because all he can remember is the focused look in your eyes while looking at his and the curve of your smile growing bigger as you listen to whatever he says, even when it is entirely about food, and…

You know what? He doesn’t really mind. He is fine with things as they are.

.

As both a friend of yours and a fellow younger brother, Belphie respects your sibling’s decision to spill your darkest secrets and thoroughly enjoys the air of comradery between them.

Don’t worry, he won’t let it go past actual serious matters; if you want him to know any of that, he’d rather have you telling him yourself when you’re ready and not get betrayed by your sibling. Silly and harmless pieces of information, however? Those are more than welcome.

And he already has a favourite.

You need to hug plushies to sleep? Tell him more. He doesn’t judge you for feeling the need to hug toys or pillows while sleeping. Actually, he understands.

Do you have a favourite? Is it in the human realm or is it in your room back at the House of Lamentation? While he can recall seeing that ugly zombie iguana on your bed, he’s never seen you cuddling it while sleeping and, other than that, he doesn’t remember seeing one, so he wonders if you hide it somewhere when you know he’s going to your room; but what about those times he enters uninvited?

Does that mean you left your preferred plushie in your room in the human realm? Does that mean that you don’t actually need to hug anything to sleep?

Whenever you share a bed, which is pretty frequent, Belphie can sense an invisible barrier between you that he’s dying to break. It’s nothing physical, given that only he knows how truly comfortable your lap and your chest are, but it’s obvious in the way your hands hesitate to bring him closer.

Shy and indecisive, while you don’t reject his advances, he’s still unsure what your feelings on the matter are. He’d initially thought you weren’t used to having anything so close to you while sleeping, but… now… Maybe he has to assure you that you can hug him as hard as you want.

Belphie is just as good as any plushie, after all; if not better.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[ruruumin]

four mondays before christmas

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x gn! reader.

⤷ decorating a christmas tree with him.

“why are we decorating so early?” rin asks. in his 6’1 glory, he stands almost the same height as the plastic christmas tree you bought from the store. he holds onto a large strand of string lights that were alternated between a turquoise blue and white. 

today was november 30th. while it was officially the end of autumn (a shame because he wished it could last forever, it being winter meant he had to stay inside more often), it was too early to be setting up a tree in the living room. you should have at least waited for the thanksgiving leftovers in your fridge to be finished before doing anything christmas-related.

“because it’ll be fun coming home to a fully decorated living room!” you smile, guiding his arms around the tree to secure the lights between the thick, sage green leaves. “this is our first christmas living together, so i want to make it special.” 

now this brings back memories. from the day you signed the lease with him, to moving in all your stuff into a shared room, he vividly recalls the time you and him decorated the living room together. from plushies to a large cream-colored sofa that sat against the wall, it became a place he could call home. he’s looming over you with a light scowl, not a heavy one, because god knows he’s too in love with you to give you one of his signature itoshi frown. 

“you should have waited a little until it was december, idiot,” he mutters the last part softly, watching as you connect all the lights together. rumbling through an old cardboard box, you pull out several matching ornaments. 

“why is our tree turquoise blue this year? shouldn’t it be the regular christmas colors?” 

a hum escapes your lips, “i thought it’d be cute to do a different theme every year. my idea for this year is a winter wonderland, so i got a ton of fake snow and blue ornaments!” holding up said decoration, you let it dangle in front of your boyfriend. “wouldn’t it be cute to do something new every year?”

he ‘hmphs’ in response. this was rin’s way of saying: i love you so much, i want us to keep living together every single year and have a different tree so we can show sae how much better of a couple we are, because we are still together. 

or at the very least, that is what you think he’s saying, because he is quietly humming alongside the same christmas song as you, eyes lovingly watching you as you tie your turquoise ornaments to the tree. 

[mr2swap]

Swap syndrome 2: armpit addiction.

-damn heat… -

The time on my cell phone showed 2:05, the idiot Travis had made me wait but in a way that made me happy I would have to charge him $50 more for being late.

Today was a very fucking day at the gym, it was so hot that I had to change my shirt, but still the rancid aroma of sweat coming from my hairy armpits filled the interior with my car, I was in the same parking lot of the gym where it is only A couple of minutes had left a huge sweat stain on the floor.

But despite everything I loved my new life, after the great shift and finding myself in this boy's hot and muscular body, from the beginning I knew this was a good thing, when I woke up in Travis's bedroom and looked down to see two juicy pecs, a sculpted six-pack and long, hairy legs, the first thing I did was take out my huge cock that was hidden among a leafy bush of hair and give myself the best handjob of my entire life.

It had been a little over a year since that moment, I quickly got used to Travis' life, kept his muscles big and strong and all thanks to his tiny YouTube channel where he showed all his exercise routines, but that was all wasted talent for Travis' glorious, beautiful body.

I no longer had my college degree or anyone to turn to, yet I was able to easily make money from all these fags, who wanted to sleep with me and this body.

Still not in the same city where I used to live, I watched the news and learned everything that had been happening in the world and that the real Travis was out there in my tired, flabby 40-year-old office worker body.

A tapping on my car window brought me out of my thoughts, it was the real Travis I grimaced in disgust as I looked at my old face once more in front of me, I looked at the time on my phone once more, and now it was 2:07 that now meant $70.

The door of my car and Travis jumped inside it, his first action was to completely inhale the disgusting smell inside the car, after that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, After that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, but in one movement I moved his old, ugly face away from me.

-You know the rules Travis, first I want the bills-

He extended one of my hands while he took out his wallet and extended a small wad of cash. In one quick movement, I snatched the bills from him and began to count them one by one while a nervous expression formed on the real Travis's face.

-Are you fucking with me? Only $500? -

There was nothing left of the old confident Travis, the confident, outgoing boy had disappeared, in his place there was only a perverted faggot who paid me for a few minutes of my attention due to swap syndrome. When we swapped our bodies, I thought I would get rid of him to always, but this pathetic middle-aged man was clinging to me like a leech trying to get close to me with his twisted homosexual intentions. I didn't really care what he did with my old body, but I thought I could make some money a month by squeezing every penny of this situation.

-Please! Just, just 5 minutes! I had to pay this month's rent and my landlord told me that if I was late another month he would throw me out on the street.-

I rolled my eyes as Travis the bitch kept giving me stupid excuses about how hard it was to find a good job now that he was a middle-aged man and he was tired all the time from working so much.

-Okay, just shut your fucking mouth.-

I put my hand on his head and pushed him into one of my hairy pits and choked his nose with the sour sweat that was collecting in my armpits. The initial struggle quickly turned into pleasure, I could feel Tyler's breathing slow. He shook until he filled his lungs, his mouth savored the curly hairs of my armpit and sucked up the small drops of sweat with his dirty tongue as if he had crossed a desert.

Tyler's small hands slid to his crotch and he began to frantically massage his cock over his pants, occasionally Tyler would move away from my armpit to get some air and lick my muscular arms with his disgusting sticky tongue, I watched as they passed minutes on my cell phone and before 5 minutes had passed, Tyler's small wrinkled cock soiled his pants with semen.

I pushed Tyler away and a satisfied smile formed on Tyler's face, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover from the addictive experience he had just experienced, a few hairs from my armpit had stuck to his face and a stain of sweat had formed on the collar of his shirt.

I didn't have time for this, this experience had made me horny, I wanted to unload the enormous amount of cum that wanted to escape from my huge hairy balls, but the disgusting man next to me was not worthy of this...nor did I have another $500

I extended one of my long, muscular arms and opened the door of my luxurious sports car.

-Now get out bitch, see you next week-

As soon as I clean every trace of Tyler from my car, I'll call some of my girls, so I can fill their pussies with my beautiful, hot seed.

This is a second installment of the swap syndrome story, but the only thing they share in common is the same syndrome that is spreading among those affected by the great shift, you can see more by visiting my Ko-fi page:

Hello, if you liked this story, and you want more, you can take a look at my new Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[purple-babygirl]

I've been feeling hella insecure ever since I found out I was pregnant. My babydaddy is supportive BUT how would Bucky help his girl feel better? Ya know with all the acne popping out of nowhere and her body getting bigger (stretch fucking marks) and I know I'm just a few months away from not being able to shave so maybe throw that in there too please. Doesn't have to be a real fic just headcannons would help really. Love you from Canada ❤️❤️

unconditionally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader Word count: 2,670 Warnings: insecurities, low self-esteem, intrusive thoughts, body image, 18+ Content: mentions of fingering, a bit of dirty talk A/N: this is probably the first time I ever get an ask and want to make sure to write a reply on the very same day. congratulations on your baby, dear nonnie💜💜 I hope you have a safe pregnancy and an easy delivery, super proud of you over here💜💜💜 please forgive me if this seems rushed, I, too, feel I've gotten a bit rusty but I'm still hoping that you wouldn't completely hate this💜please excuse me while I combine a bit of another ask with yours. thank you so much for sending this ask and sharing such sweet news with me. Much love right back to you, maple syrup nonnie💜💜💜💜💜💜

~

Scars

All it took was Bucky trying to kiss the back of her hand on their second date and the slight flinch of her digits let him know something wasn’t right. At first, he thought he made her uncomfortable, so he gave her her space for the rest of the night. However, she kissed him first when he was walking her up to her door that night, so he told himself he might have imagined it all.

Then it happened again on their 4th date. They were at the movies and Bucky’s hand held hers, his thumb caressing the back of it. When his thumb brushed a particular spot, the slight flinch was back. Bucky made sure to ask if she was okay this time and she reassured him that she was. He could tell that her body gave the same tense reaction every time his thumb brushed against a specific spot on the back of her hand though, which was a scar.

She had a small scar on the bottom of her forefinger that she would mostly cover with rings. Tonight, however, she wasn’t wearing any, which led to direct contact between Bucky’s thumb and the scarred area.

Bucky told himself he was reading way too much into the situation, that it probably wasn’t that. The scar itself was very small, barely noticeable.

But his previous doubts were brought back and confirmed on their 6th date. It was the first time she let him come in after a date and the first time they were going to have sex since they started dating.

Bucky has unzipped her dress and was ready to push it down her shoulders when she held it to her chest as asked if the lights could be turned off.

“Why, doll?” He frowns despite himself, his brain not understanding why she would ever want to hide behind the curtain of darkness.

“It’s nothing... I’m just used to it.” She shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant.

“You know by now that I can tell when you’re lying, doll.” Bucky smiles gently.

He didn’t know, but his tender smile made her want to cry.

“I— I have a scar on my tummy.”

Her voice is so small when she utters the words that it had Bucky’s heart dropping.

It must’ve been clear on his face that he feared the worst because she quickly continues, “no one hurt me, it’s just from a small surgery I had when I was a kid. But the scar is.. ya know.. still kinda.. there.”

Her arms involuntarily hugged the dress tighter to her chest and waist as she explained.

“Doll, you realize I practically have no left arm, right?”

She chuckles softly before looking up at him, “that’s different, Buck. You’re beautiful.”

“So are you!”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “I mean, I can always get a tattoo or two drawn on the scars. Someone had suggested that to me before..” Her thumb caresses her scarred forefinger.

And it clicked in Bucky’s head.

Another person had made her feel this way about her scars. Some idiot had previously told her to ‘cover up’ her scars, get them tattooed over, made her feel like she wasn’t something to look at while the lights were still on.

Bucky was seething to say the least, but he couldn’t let his anger make him lose sight of what was important and what this whole thing was about. Her.

She needed to understand that she wasn’t anything short of art, a vision, a sight that could get him on his knees in a second.

“Doll, you have nothing to hide. Whatever is underneath your dress, I know it will blow my mind. I’m already hard for you, baby, I don’t care.”

She blushes, smiling up at him shyly, her eyes still unsure.

“Please, believe me.” Bucky’s hand cups her cheek as he kisses her forehead then her nose and finally her lips.

“You show me yours if I show you mine?” He whispers against her lips.

She nodded, her heart fluttering at the gesture.

Without hesitation, Bucky pulls away and takes his jacket off, pulling his t-shirt over his head next.

He stood before her in all of his glory, showing the scars on his chest, even turning around for her to see the ones on his back before facing her again and bringing her smaller hand to his left shoulder. The ugliest part of him from his point of view.

His eyes close as she tentatively touches him.

She knew it wasn’t easy for Bucky to show her himself like that. Her fingertips tracing, soothing, his scar tissue was the most intimate he has ever let anybody get with him in decades.

Her eyes tear up, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest: love, compassion, gratitude, trust.

Bucky opened his eyes when she removed her touch, only to be met with the sight of her letting her dress fall around her body to pool by her feet.

She stepped out of it, showing Bucky the horizontal scar across her belly.

Without a second thought, Bucky gets on his knees before her, his lips ever so softly brushing her skin.

She closed her eyes, a tear or two escaping her eyes at the closeness of the moment.

She doesn’t remember ever feeling so safe, so accepted.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on and I’m a hundred years old, baby.” Bucky whispers on her skin, the vibrations tickling her as a smile finds its way to her lips.

Acne

When it is a particularly bad breakout she would lean away further, try not to let her cheeks touch Bucky’s because she has this weird belief that she might ‘give it to him’ even though he has reassured her multiple times before that he was a super soldier who couldn’t possibly get acne. Still, she would involuntarily refrain from indulging in his cheek kisses as much as she normally would when it was a bad skin week.

If Bucky told her that he never even noticed, she would think he was lying to her. But he didn’t. She was always the same beautiful girl to him at all times. It didn’t matter if it was the week before her period or the first few months of her pregnancy; he did not see the new pimples. Bucky didn’t notice because he saw her, he focused on her rather than on the flesh and skin that covered her bones.

She was the one to bring his attention to the acne on her face, the acne on her shoulders, on her back, on her butt. Bucky didn’t care though. He loved her all the same, craved her all the same, could stare at her dreamily for hours all the same, could cum in his pants at the sight of her naked form like a horny teenager all the same.

But she had already gotten him to notice the physical changes, so he acted accordingly. With care. With love. Unconditional love.

“Doll, don’t pick,” Bucky says, gently taking her hand up to his lips before her nails could start picking at her new pimples.

He kisses her finger tips and the back of her hand before keeping it in his to make sure she wouldn’t take it to her face again.

She smiles, trying to focus back on the movie playing on their TV, but all she could really think about was how much she loves Bucky Barnes.

Body hair

The next time Bucky realized that his beloved goddess had insecurities, it surprised him still. It was when he came back from a long mission 2 days earlier than expected and tried to show her how much he’s missed her.

He noticed how she instantly closed in on herself when his foot caressed up her shin, moving away a little.

It was only when he pressed her about it through tickles that she finally provided an explanation and whispered, “I didn’t shave.”

Again, Bucky hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the this was her. His girl. The one he has missed like crazy when he was away. The one he wanted to be naked with and make love to all night long.

If she thought a bit of body hair was going to stop him, she couldn’t be more wrong.

“Doll, I don’t care.” He tried to kiss her but she pulled away.

She only ever did that once before because she was sick and forgot he couldn’t catch her cold.

“Buck, please, there’s hair everywhere.” She covers her mouth, “even the mustache has some.”

Her insecure whisper with her gaze lowered tugged at Bucky’s heart in a way he couldn’t describe.

Who the hell has led her to believe that body hair was something to be this ashamed of and where could he find them? He just wanted to talk—

“You think a little hair is going to stop me from ravishing you, doll?” Bucky asks huskily, nibbling at her earlobe.

She shivers like she always does, but still tries to pull away, “it is not just a little hair.”

She gets up and stands in the middle of the room, looking in the direction of the bathroom, “I can be quick.”

Bucky sighs, sitting down on the edge of their bed and pulling her down on his lap.

“Doll, I never wanna make you uncomfortable, you know that.”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” she explains softly.

“You’re not. I am more than comfortable fucking you right on the floor beneath your feet.”

She blushes, looking up at him with nothing but adoration in her eyes.

“I don’t care if you haven’t shaved for a few days or if you were turned into a yeti. You’re my girl and I want you. I will always want you.”

Bucky’s eyes were sincere and the bulge she was sitting on confirmed his words all the more, so she finally let him lay her down on her back and worship her the way she was meant to be.

Bucky let his lips kiss every inch of her that night. He licked the shit out of her thighs and ate her pussy like a starved man, not letting up until she was about to pass out, but most importantly until she believed him.

Stretch marks and body weight changes

Now that was the one that really never made Bucky blink even once. If anything, he liked them. Her stretch marks looked like the ripples of the sea on the skin of his very beloved. The fucking ocean with all its beauty under his calloused fingertips. He liked it all the more knowing it was just more evidence of his baby growing inside of her. How lucky was he?

She, of course, didn’t see it that way, examining her waist and thighs for hours before the mirror if Bucky would let her.

“Admiring how hot you are, I see.” Bucky smiled as he wraps his arms around her waist.

She instantly smiles back at his warmth engulfing her from behind though she doesn’t agree, “yeah, yeah.. hot is the word.”

“I don’t like your insinuations about my girl, doll.” He nibbles at her neck, his fingers gravitating towards her growing belly.

“That’s because there’s nothing hot about this, Bucky!” She argues, frustrated.

“Doll, you have another human growing inside of you; it’s more than normal for these changes to happen to your body.” He doesn’t stop caressing her bare tummy as his lips brush along her neck.

“I know.. doesn’t mean I will magically be able to accept it though. It’s.. a lot, Buck.”

“I know, love,” he kisses the spot behind her ear, “but I swear to you, you have never been sexier to me.”

“You swear? Pfft.” She tries to get out of his hold, unable to see what he was talking about.

“Hey,” Bucky stops her, bringing her back to stand before the mirror, “look at yourself. You’re a goddamn goddess. You have a baby in here and your body is merely accommodating, baby. Look at those full breasts.” Bucky squeezes her boobs gently in his large hands and she instantly moans, “all mine”.

“But— ”

“Who did this to you hmm?” Bucky teases, circling his thumb over her covered nipple.

“Bucky—” Her head is thrown back on his shoulder as his other hand finds its way between her legs.

“Who put a baby in you? Filled up this tight pussy again and again until you had no choice but to become knocked up?”

“Y- you did, Buck.” She breathes, her legs opening for him.

“That’s right, doll.” He slips a finger into her and then another, “look at yourself. Look how breathtaking you look with my baby growing inside of you, taking my fingers like you were meant to.”

She can barely open her eyes, yet the first thing they zero on is, “but the stretch marks—”

“I love them.” Bucky sucks at her neck.

“And all that newly gained body weight—” She moans, her hips grinding down on his hand.

“I adore it.”

“The way I’m gonna get heavier—”

“Has me absolutely infatuated.”

When her legs suddenly shake, her knees buckling, she thinks it was Bucky’s complete acceptance of her in every state that made her cum, not his fingers.

And if she thinks she’s going to walk away from that mirror before she watches herself fall apart for Bucky at least twice, she was an idiot.

 Snoring

It’s gotten a little difficult for her as the months pass to sleep in any other position but on her back, which unfortunately led to something she never used to do: snoring. The first night Bucky had woken her up to help her adjust the position of her head made her felt so embarrassed that she couldn’t go back to sleep again. And the very next night, she wanted to sleep in a different bed as to not interrupt Bucky’s sleep so much, so.. annoyingly.

“Absolutely not.”

“Buck, let’s be rational, please. You have things to do tomorrow, a mission by the end of the week. You need your sleep. Lots of it.”

“I said no, doll.”

“But listen—”

“I don’t remember you making me sleep in a different room when I used to wake you up to nightmares.”

His voice is so soft as he reminds her and it makes her heart melt.

“Bucky, that’s different—”

“You’re right, my thing almost gave you a fucking heart attack every single night, sometimes multiple times in the same night.”

“It’s not like it was something you chose to do!”

“And this is something you choose to do?”

Her mouth opens and closes but remains silent.

“Doll, I don’t wake you up at night because I’m annoyed by the snoring. I wake you up because I want you to breathe properly and have a comfortable sleep.”

“I want you to have a comfortable sleep too—”

“I do. Doll, I don’t wanna be anywhere but next to you. You think I’m gonna give up the privilege of being able to fall asleep next to you just because you started snoring?”

“Bucky.” She blushes in embarrassment, yet her heart skips a beat.

“Love, you are the reason I’m able to fall asleep like a normal person at all. How could you ever think I would wanna sleep in separate rooms?”

“I just care for you.”

“I care for you too, baby. And I wanna be there for you, with you, every step of the way. I want you snoring to wake me up because then I know to reposition your head and help you sleep better. I want your cold feet to wake me up because then I know to put socks on you because I know you can’t reach because of your belly—”

“My feet wake you up too!”

“Jesus, doll—”

~

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions @serendipitouslife90 @sebastians-love @leelee1234love @tiedyedghoulette @saint-marvel @helenaellie @onceithough @raynelbabe @a-very-fictional-girl @justabeluga @lindababe69 @sapphirebarnes

[inotakumagf]

persephone’s descent

✶ gojo satoru x persephone!reader

word count ✺ 2.7K

summary ✺ no one knows what truly happened to persephone when hades dragged her down to his realm. no one’s even heard of the demigod who made the tedious journey to save her.

warning ✺ i don’t haaate the story of hades and persephone i just hate how modern interpretations of the myth make demeter out to be a crazy woman who is “ruining” their love & hades is somehow the nicest guy who has done no wrong ever when the homeric hymn to demeter makes my heart break. i like different retellings where it is more of a love story, but in the og myth he did kidnap her & force her to stay with him against her will. im gonna shut up now otherwise i’d go on and on if i had my way lol. also like i mentioned in the poll zeus is very much NOT your father in this 👍 i hope you enjoy, please reblog/comment i’d love to hear ur thoughts!

No one ever cares about your side of the story.

The tale of Persephone and Hades has been retold and romanticized a thousand times over, and each time it strays farther and farther from the truth. It becomes a love story about Hades’ adoration of Persephone, and their fight against her crazy mother’s attempts at keeping the two star-crossed lovers apart. Persephone becomes a doting wife and the millitant queen of the Underworld. Her kidnapping turns into a misunderstanding of the love Hades has for her. Or worse, some myth retellings claim that Persephone herself tricked Hades into taking her down below to his realm.

That’s not what happened. As if you’d ever go anywhere with him willingly. 

You’d never invited Naoya’s attention, not once. He wasn’t even supposed to make his ascension to the mortal realm. But he’d seen you bathing in moonlight from beneath his helm of darkness, watching as you flourish a field of irises. He’d been so taken by your beauty, eyes dragging along where moonshine reflected off of your skin. He decided then that he had to have you, and he dragged you down, down, down to his decaying realm. Away from your home, away from your mother, and away from all that you hold dear. 

Demeter had sensed the loss of your presence the moment you disappeared down into the cavernous Underworld. It felt like your life had slipped away from her that day. You find out later that she had punished the Earth for your loss, as she caused crops to wither and vegetation to rot with each passing day. 

You know she would have come for you herself if she could, but Zeus has long since forbidden the major Gods from acting directly against one another. Of course, being kidnapped by an Olympian God is not enough reason for him to intervene on your behalf, since you’re no major God yourself. 

In your immortal life, it’s impossible to remember how much time goes by in mortal standards, and it’s even harder to keep track in the Underworld. You spend most of your hours, days, maybe even years trapped in your cave of a room. You spend every second clawing and screaming against the rock walls, making sure Naoya has not a moment of peace from you.

He is easy to anger, and you’ve caused a nasty frown to grace his face anytime he looks at you. Still, he decides that he must show off his prize to his loyal court, because how many people can say they’ve captured the Goddess of nature? He has you sit on a smaller throne beside his own as he entertains members of his court. And of course, he is always offering you food. Everything from juicy pomegranate seeds to jeweled berries to plump poultry. 

Naoya must think you’re an idiot, as if you don’t know the one rule a visitor must remember when passing through the Underworld. Even to a God, the food will hold a piece of your soul hostage, as if tying you to the ground below. As a God, you don’t need food to survive, so all his obvious attempts are shot down. But you do need ambrosia and nectar from time to time, and you refuse to let him see how the deprivation of Godly food is getting to you.

You’re nursing a growing headache thanks to Naoya’s constant attention and the lack of ambrosia as you watch courtiers you hardly recognize kneel before the dais you sit on. They each have a ridiculously intricate gift for Naoya as they beg for his help with an idiotic political or social issue for their oh-so-gracious king to solve. Naoya asks for your input from time to time, not because he actually cares, but because he finds your growing annoyance hilarious.

A spirit bows in front of you on the dais. “Oh great King. I stand before you to ask you for your words of advice. You see, I have been in love with a woman for years. But it seems as though her heart has been captured by another man, and I believe she may marry him. How can I reunite with my beloved?”

Naoya taps his fingers against the bone of his throne’s armrest. “Hm. It seems you have quite the predicament. What do you think, darling dearest?”

You rub your fingers into your throbbing temple, muffling a groan of boredom. “Everyone gets their heart broken all the time. If you couldn’t tell this woman you loved her before she fell in love with the other man, maybe that’s your own fault. It’s not my problem, so why do I have to listen to your pathetic chatter?”

Naoya cackles loudly, pounding his fist against his throne’s armrest. “Aren’t you a romantic? Well, there’s your answer, lad.”

Naoya motions for the spirit to leave so that the next person can have their turn. But the spirit doesn’t budge.

“I never said she was in love with this man.”

Before you can ask what he means, the spirit throws off the raggedy cloak from his shoulders. As he does so, his form flickers until it solidifies into warm, solid flesh. You gasp. With the hood of the cloak no longer hiding the man, you instantly recognize his soft, white hair and piercing blue eyes as they meet your own. 

Naoya bellows, “What is this? A live mortal in my realm? I should have you strung and castrated, so that you may truly belong here, boy.”

Gojo Satoru points a long finger at Naoya in accusation. “You will release the Goddess of nature at once, or I’ll be forced to destroy you.”

Naoya nearly falls over in laughter. “Oh, I will, will I? And who do you think you are, speaking to the God of the Underworld like that?”

Satoru straightens his back so that he appears taller, and if you didn’t know who he was you would have thought he was a God himself. “I am Gojo Satoru, son of Zeus and champion of Nike. I act on behalf of Demeter, who demands you return her daughter, or else the destruction she has caused to the world above will continue to spread down until she destroys every corner of your so-called kingdom until there is nothing left of it.”

You don’t doubt Satoru’s ability to defeat Naoya, but the God just laughs in his face. That is, until the demigod pulls out his sword. You’ve never seen this weapon of his before. It’s so sharp, you swear you can actually see it cut the air into slivers. If you could guess, the weapon looks a lot like the work of Hephaestus himself. 

Satoru extends the weapon, pointing it directly at Naoya. “No? Then I will fight you and return the Goddess to her rightful home.” 

Naoya steps carefully off of his throne, unsheathing his Stygian blade. It’s an impressive, obsidian sword, but it dwarfs in comparison to Satoru’s weapon. 

Naoya hardly takes a step towards Satoru before the demigod has repositioned himself to the right, slashing his silver blade against the God of the Dead’s shoulder. Naoya blocks the attack, just barely. Their fight picks up after the first blow; Gojo presses his attacks forward in order to force Naoya to default to defensive blocks. Gojo’s strikes are fast and hard, constantly pushing Naoya back. He catches Naoya off guard, slashing his sword against the God’s face.

Naoya screams. “You insolent bastard. I’ll kill you for this.”

Satoru tucks his sword into its sheath. You want to scream at him to pull the damn weapon back out, but he just smirks at Naoya. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

He blasts a massive ball of electricity at Naoya, and you can taste the crackle of lightning on your tongue at the force of his power. It causes the cavernous roof above Naoya to crumble upon him. You know it won’t kill or even harm him all that much, but it will distract him for a few minutes. 

Satoru leaves Naoya under the rubble to leap onto the dais. He cups his hand against your cheek and soothes his thumb across your face. “Are you alright, my rose?” 

You press a shaky hand over his own. “I’m okay. Are you really here, Satoru?”

He laughs lightly, and you’ve never been happier to hear the sweet sound. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You blink in disbelief. “Because I’ve dreamt of this every night.”

His smile sobers up into a concerned furrow of his brow, cradling your face in order to press a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes flutter at the warmth of his lips. 

“I’m here,” he promises. His larger hand presses yours against his chest, letting you feel his heartbeat. You love the speed of his heart, it’s just so unlike your own, so human. “But we really should leave before he collects himself, don’t you think, my rose?”

He takes you by your hand and pulls you deeper into the Underworld, until you stand before a tunnel that looks to lead up. Satoru ushers you ahead of him, keeping a hand at the small of your back. 

“An exit?” You ask, turning to face the demigod. “How on Earth did you find this?”

He grins. “Courtesy of the Messenger God. Even the Underworld gets deliveries.”

You frown. “Hermes just…told you about this?”

“For a price” he says, winking. Your stomach flutters at his casual flirtation.

A loud roar behind you caused your heart rate to spike. It’s easy to guess that Naoya has escaped, and the shout sounds entirely too close for your comfort.

Satoru rushes ahead of you, pulling you along behind him as he leads you away from Naoya’s realm as fast as he can. He leads you further up and up, not turning back as he hastens his pace. 

You stumble on the rough path, and Satoru looks back immediately, grasping you in his arms. “We can’t stop. Come, let me carry you.”

He sweeps you off your feet, and you have to clasp your arms around his neck to keep stable. You laugh into his neck as his hair tickles your cheek. 

The ascension is long, but Satoru doesn’t falter once. He just holds you tighter against him. When you're out on the surface, you suck in a breath as you finally see the night sky again. Satoru lets you down gently, and you crouch down to run your fingers through the dry, cold ground until lush grass and baby blue flowers sprout beneath your fingers. Tears fall from your eyes in joy. You’re home.

You straighten out, leaping right into Satoru’s arms. Without hesitation, he lifts you and spins you around. You can’t help but laugh in pure joy. Your arms wrap around your lover’s neck, pulling him into a sweet kiss. He deepens it easily, pressing himself against you. Your hands splay over his smooth cheeks, running your fingers over the smile stretching across his face. You nuzzle your nose against his, staring into his eyes as though you might slip away again. Something crackles behind you.

You don’t need to turn to know that your mother has arrived. You can feel her presence as if you share the same heartbeat. Satoru lets go of you so that you can hug her. You nearly sob at the feeling of her warm embrace. Demeter hugs you so tightly that you think you’d choke if you needed air like a mortal. She pulls back to stare at you, cupping your chin in her hand.

“My daughter has been rightly returned,” she announces on the breeze. You know her words will carry around the Earth, until the land prospers once more.

Demeter turns to Satoru. “Thank you, son of Zeus. You will be rewarded for your bravery. I can give you jewels, or a kingdom, or the strength of a thousand men.”

Satoru shakes his head. “I have no need for any of those material desires, My Lady.”

Demeter raises a brow. Knowing your mother, she might decide to smite him on the spot. You lay a hand on her shoulder and beg, “Please, mother.”

Demeter sighs at your pouting face. She scowls at Satoru, but she makes no move to kill him as of right now, which is good news. “Fine. What is it that you want, demigod?”

Satoru kneels before the two of you, dipping his head low. You are used to this reverence of his, but it makes you blush to see him like this after so long apart. “If I may ask, Lady Demeter, for one wish, it would be for you to allow me to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.”

Your eyes widen at the statement. Satoru’s head is bowed, and you can’t see his face. All you want right now is to see his face.

As if reading your mind, Satoru looks up at you. His eyes find yours, staring at you with love that you know your face reflects back. You want to kneel into the soft dirt in front of him. You want to touch, to hold him. You want.

Demeter hums. “Dangerous, son of Zeus, to wish for such a thing. Do you know what you’re asking me?”

Satoru’s eyes never leave yours. “Yes, I do.”

“So you know that you are a mortal, asking to marry a Goddess that will outlive you by ions, lifetimes. You know that Naoya will curse you for such mockery of his power. You will live and die painfully, and your afterlife will be full of eternal suffering. You will never see the gates of Elysium, if Naoya can help it.”

“I know,” Satoru repeats. “And I accept my fate, as long as I can spend the rest of my life at the Goddess’s feet. Even when I die a mortal death, I will love and worship her from beyond my grave, endlessly. This is the fate that I want.”

Demeter considers him, for a moment. You know your mother, and you know the exact moment she makes her decision. Tears pool in your eyes. She looks at Satoru, who is staring at you. She looks at you, staring right back at Satoru.

“I will not grant you this.” For the first time, Satoru’s attention snaps to your mother. His eyebrows quiver, and his mouth softens into a pout.

“Please,” he says softly. 

She glances at you, and you turn to see the mischievous glint in her eyes. “No, I cannot fulfill this request. If you wish to marry my daughter, that is a gift she must grant you. But I will give you a gift of my own choosing.” 

She holds her open palm to Satoru, and a golden apple materializes in her hand. This, you were not expecting from your mother at all. You both know what this represents. Immortality. Godhood. You stare at Satoru, and he stares up at you. 

Your mother becomes impatient. “Well, son of Zeus? What will it be?”

He takes your hands in his own. “My rose. I cannot offer you a kingdom or power like Naoya can. I am a mere breath in your presence. But I can offer you my whole and true love. I can promise that I will always serve you, loyally. As your husband, and as your humble servant. Will you allow me the pleasure of marrying you?” 

He barely finishes by the time you throw yourself at him, nodding emphatically and you press kisses all over his face. Your knees are dirtied by the soft ground, but you don’t care when Satoru’s entirety surrounds you. You inhale deeply, pressing your nose into his skin. He cradles your cheek in his warm palm, pulling away so that he can admire you. 

“My Goddess,” he murmurs.

Demeter grumbles and you can practically hear the roll of her eyes. “Lovesick fools. Aphrodite certainly had her fun with you two.”

[wishfulsketching]

wow your comics are stunning! the vanco especially is so effortlessly beautiful and well structured. Do you have a tutorial on how you make comics? Your panel work and composition is especially great, would love to know more about the process

THANK YOUUU. I am not really good with tutorials, hah. My comic process is also very much "I want to do this NOW!" and then I do it. I don't do any script, I sketch full sized thumbnails and write the "kind like this" versions of the dialogue into the thumbnails (or I won't and after I'll be like hmm I wonder what I wanted to do here).

Here's the steps of my latest little comic:

These are my thumbnails. My main goal when I start a page is to do a simple 1. Establish where we are 2. Establish who are there

I am not good with establishing shots tbh. They kill me every time. With fancomics it's easier because I don't even have to show The Last Drop because of course these idiots would be there :D

After the rough idea I do the actual sketch that I will use to help me do lineart. Just very simple and usually the characters are just their most important features. Sometimes you can barely recognize them.

Here's the final one just for comparison.

With the bigger comic I posted yesterday, I just love making movement that carries through the panels. When I know I have to add lots of dialogue to explain things, I'll make the characters do something at the same time

I just wanted to make this casual/domestic moment of bitching about life while Vander is being caring and Silco accepts it.

With composition and panel work, idk, it usually comes down to what mood I want/what I want to show (expressions usually) OR. What I don't want to show :D When you want to be lazy, you will become creative! And nobody will know!

I am very fond of breaking the panels to kinda showcase change, I guess. I do it a lot. With like the effect of the next panel entering the previous one or with speech bubbles.

With this one I had to come up with ways to transition to all the scenes within the "memory" and it was pretty fun yet also made me anxious because I also had to keep the pace up.

I draw quick and I am pretty confident with my control over my lines, so I don't really have any tips for lineart. One thing I do wanna say is that you have to learn to let go. I want to fix so much from the headcanon comic I did. I won't. It's not bad, it's just not perfect. It wouldn't be perfect even if I would fix it.

[wcnderlnds]

under the mistletoe | kit walker

CHRISTMAS ADVENT - DAY ONE

・❥・summary: kit tries to make christmas at briarcliffe a little more bearable.・❥・warnings: none!・❥・word count: 1k・❥・authors note: first christmas fic! i dont have specific days im gonna post these but hopefully at the very least every other day. you can be added to my taglist by filling this out!

Christmas at Briarcliffe was miserable to say the least. There was no festive spirit in the air, no decorations around the asylum minus a tree in the main foyer that the inmates barely got to see and a few string lights that had most of their bulbs broken. It was like they were trying to make everyone as miserable as possible. At this point it felt like happiness wasn’t even a real emotion anymore. The staff always made sure of that. A smile on someone’s face? No, they couldn’t have that. You had a theory that everyone who got hired was handed a rulebook with the number one rule to be to make sure everyone was as unhappy as they could possibly be. They were good at it, too. 

The only sliver of light in this dark prison went by the name of Kit Walker. That very first day he had sat down next to you in the common room the two of you had clicked instantly. As soon as you’d seen those dark brown eyes, you knew there wasn’t a malicious bone in the man’s body. How anyone could believe he was the infamous Bloody Face remained a mystery to you. He was sweet, kind and he always protected you. In a place like Briarcliffe you needed someone watching out for you. He had your back and you had his. An unstoppable duo.

It wasn’t just friendship, though. The lingering touches, the stolen hugs meant there was so much more between you. Unfortunately, you couldn’t act on it. The staff were always watching. It was a risk even hugging — you had been caught one time, Kit had taken the blame and received punishment. That was just the type of person he was. Always making sure no harm came to you. Words had never been spoken of what lingered between you but they didn’t need to be. His eyes told you everything you needed to know. 

“I don’t want to watch this stupid movie,” you grumbled, shifting in the hard wooden chair. It was movie night. Sister Jude had chosen the same movie - the only movie - she ever allowed anyone to watch. It was getting to the point where you could probably do a one man show of it.

”Me either,” Kit mumbled, leaning in close to whisper his next words in your ear. “Try to sneak out in about ten minutes. Got a surprise for you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the anticipation of what was to come coursing through your veins. What did he have planned? What could he even surprise you with in this place? Whatever it was, you knew you’d love it. If Kit had taken the time and the risk to do something for you then you knew it was special. As you sat there, your foot tapping on the ground impatiently, Kit got up from his seat. You watched from the corner of your eye as he spoke to the guard and was soon let out of the room. This must be the signal.

To make it less suspicious you waited a good few minutes before getting up yourself. Your hand wrapped around your stomach as you spoke to the guard that was on duty. All you had to say was you had cramps and no questions were asked; you were allowed to head to the bathroom. Now, where had Kit gone?

Walking the usual, familiar way to the bathroom, you almost shrieked when a hand grasped around your wrist and pulled you into an empty room. Kit’s hand covered your mouth just in case. Getting caught would ruin his whole surprise. “Hey, shush, suga’, it’s just me.”

The sound of his voice calmed you immediately. “Idiot, I thought someone was trying to kill me.”

Kit only grinned. The hand that was around your wrist slid down to your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. No matter how many times he touched you, the electricity you felt at his skin on yours was still a surprise. Never in your life had you felt something like this for anyone. Is this what love was? Was it even possible to fall in love in this place? But, as Kit looked at you, you knew it was. You had fallen hard and fast for the beautiful man holding your hand. “Close your eyes.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, no questions asked. Trusting Kit was the easiest thing you could do. You heard the sound of rustling then felt Kit move a step closer. His next words were spoken quietly. “Open ‘em.”

As your eyes opened and acclimated to your surroundings again, your gaze flittered up to see Kit holding his arm above you, mistletoe hanging between you in his fingers. A small gasp passed your lips as you saw the fond smile on his face. “Kit… how did you….?”

”Saw some of the old boxes of decorations around when they were putting the tree out so did a little digging when nobody was looking and grabbed this. It’s not much but I remember you telling me how much you love Christmas and how unhappy you were about not feeling in the festive spirit. I had to do somethin.” His words hit you straight in the heart. It felt as if you could burst and at his next words, you were certain you were about to. “Besides, doll, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a real long time. So, what’d you say? I’ve heard that it’s bad luck to not kiss under the mistletoe.”

”Well then, I don’t think either of us need any more bad luck,” you stepped up on your tiptoes, your lips inching forward. Kit closed the distance, his soft lips meeting yours. His hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. The mistletoe dropped to the floor as his over arm engulfed your back. Your arms rested around his neck, lips moving together in perfect sync. It felt like magic. Like this was all you needed to get your Christmas spirit back. Very, very reluctantly Kit pulled away. He admired your swollen lips and the reddening of your cheeks as his eyes found yours once again. “Merry Christmas, suga’. When we get out of here, I’ll give you the proper Christmas you deserve.”

taglist: @strawb3rrystar @marchsfreakshow @honeymoon8 @decaf-mother @ldydeath @mistysconcilium @xrag-dollx @bohnerrific69 @jazzy-reads @lacucarachapisser

[sillyhanako]

꒰꒰🥞﹒BAKING COOKIES FOR MY LOVE I STIR AND MIX !﹕୨୧

꒰꒰﹒SYPNOSIS : A man-child of a customer visits the small local bakery that you owns. And every time he visits he orders the same order, plus his energetic nature he's starting to give you a headache. However, as his visits become a regular thing, you begin to find the man-child rather endearing. and the feeling is mutual .

꒰꒰﹒PARRING : pre-relationship umemiya x reader

꒰꒰﹒CONTAINS : two idiots in love, one of them in denial, sunshine x grumpy trope, sun x moon trope

꒰꒰﹒sfw // 2.4k wc

꒰꒰﹒notes : omg this took 3 long days to make 😭 kudos and reblogs are appreciated!! This is my first time making a oneshot 0-0 i hope its not too bad.. reminder: english is not my first language!!! And credits to

It was 8:12am . The sun was shining brightly, bathing the world in its warm embrace. The gentle breeze was cool and refreshing, providing a much-needed respite from the stifling summer heat. The trees stood tall and proud, gently swaying in the wind as the birds sang their sweet melodies. In the distance, children were on their way to school, chatting among themselves.

You were on your way to open your bakery, a small business you started last year in makochi, a chill town. It was enveloped in a sense of tranquility, the absence of cars making the air still and peaceful.The stillness of the town provided a refreshing change from the constant honking and traffic noise that filled your last location.

As you step into the bakery, the first thing that catches the eye is the warm brown and beige color palette that dominates the space. The walls are painted a soft beige, and large brown shelves are stacked with an array of freshly-baked breads and pastries. The floor is tiled in a soft brown and tan pattern, and the countertops are made of light brown wood.

Large potted fiddle leaf fig plants stand tall in each corner of the space, their deep green leaves providing a stark contrast to the light beige walls. Trailing ivy hangs from the shelves, its delicate leaves adding a sense of wildness to the otherwise cozy atmosphere. Smaller pots of succulents and cacti are scattered throughout the space, their prickly texture and bold shapes adding visual interest to the soft color palette.

After putting on your work uniform, which contains a tucked in white button up with a brown chest pocket, and then over that a brown waist apron, you started cleaning the counter of any dust, and shorty you brought out the chairs from the storage room, they're made of a sturdy wood, and are padded with soft beige cushions to make them more comfortable. The tables are a lighter wood, round in shape, and are surrounded by two padded seats each.

Shortly after the opening, customers begin to come in for breakfast. Some asked for Black Coffee, some for a Latte, and others a Cappuccino. Often paired with stacked pancakes with cream in between and a strawberry on top, waffles coated in honey and blueberries or chocolate and banana slices layered between soft crêpes.

The afternoon passed by in a flash, and as the clock ticked with every second passing, you suddenly realized it had turned to 4:32pm. Occasional customers had swung by the pastry shop for a quick purchase, only to then continue onwards with their day almost as quickly as they had appeared.

And its seems that your regular has chosen this very time to patronize the pastry shop.

With a childish joy, your regular, a tall and gangly man with white hair, once again invaded the comfortable silence of the bakery. His presence sent a shiver of annoyance through you. How could he be such a disruption so often? It was honestly getting ridiculou--

" [name]-CHAAAN " With a childish joy, your regular, a tall and gangly man with white hair, once again invaded the comfortable silence of the bakery with slamming the door. His presence sent a shiver of annoyance through you.

"You look as beautiful as always!"  He barged in, as usual, with an energy that could rival a hyperactive child. But this time, he wasn't alone. Who were these people he had brought along? You hadn't seen them around the bakery before. And by the look of them, they were just as loud and boisterous as your regular.

Much to your annoyance, Umemiya had brought with him a sizable group of companions. They wasted no time, immediately starting to rearrange the seating into a circular formation. To your surprise, you recognized the group as the so-called protectors of the town, Bofurin. You weren't pleased that they, too, were causing a ruckus in your bakery.

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at Umemiya and his group of companions. In mock surprise, you remarked, 'You actually have friends, Umemiya? I thought only Hiragi could put up with your antics.' With the menu in hand, you prepared to take their order, albeit begrudgingly

Umemiya laughed at your comment, clearly not bothered by it in the slightest. His companions chuckled amongst themselves, amused by your words. “Oh, you wound me!” he retorts, putting his hand over his heart in faux hurt. “And here I thought you enjoyed my company!” he grins, clearly enjoying the banter. “And of course I have friends! I’ll have you know that they’re not as uptight as that stick in the mud Hiragi.” "what did you just call me??"

After handing the group the menu he came back to where you were standing, wiping a plate.

"so i'll get a-" "1150." "I didnt even order yet-" "one thousand one hundred and fifty yen. pay up." "wait um let me get a a large matcha-" "yes yes yes! A large matcha shortbread cake, frosted with a light and fluffy pastry cream and topped with fresh, plump blackberries, an iced matcha latte, extra sweet, with some whipped cream on top. And an extra shot of espresso to the latte!! stop playing Hajime Umemiya." "woah how did you know i was going to get that??" "you're the only person in this town that enters saying 'yahoo!' At 4:32pm !! And i can smell that old t-shirt you've been wearing for 3 years."

" did i begame a regular here to the point you memorized my order? " he grinned, pulling out his thin, long wallet. " please. You come here almost everyday. "

While Umemiya laughed and joked with you, some of his companions were watching the interaction with playful stares. One of them with sharp blonde hair couldn't help but comment under his breath, 'How are his teeth keeping up with all that sugar??' The rest of them chuckled amongst themselves, clearly amused by the thought.

Even though the banter and teasing from Umemiya and his friends could occasionally be annoying, there was no denying that these moments were often the high point of your day. The lighthearted atmosphere he brought with his visits always lifted your spirits, making the work a bit more bearable, even if just for a moment.

You efficiently prepared the orders for Umemiya and his friends, making sure each one was made according to their specifications. You then handed them over to your barista, a fellow employee at the bakery, who took charge of serving the customers. She took the orders and skillfully moved through the bakery, delivering the pastries and drinks to the table where Umemiya and his companions were seated.

Your co-worker, a cheerful and energetic individual, their smile and easygoing nature made them popular among the customers, you honestly wanted someone more calm and collected to work with you, but oh well. She quickly engaged with Umemiya and his companions, bringing an even more lively atmosphere to the already bustling eatery.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as Umemiya's voice rose above the din, engaging in a lively conversation with your co-worker. His talkative nature was evident as he eagerly joined in, his boisterous laughter occasionally cutting through the air. You felt a strange feeling in your chest, a mix of annoyance and something you couldn't quite place, at the sight of the two chatting so comfortably.

Umemiya was known to be talkative, and you had no doubt that he would quickly become the center of attention in any conversation. His infectious energy and charismatic personality often made him the star of the show, overshadowing others around him. You knew this would be a long interaction... and you didnt like that.

You shook off the strange feeling and forcefully turned your attention back to the task at hand. You busied yourself with reorganizing the utensils and wiping croissant crumbs off the countertop in a futile attempt to distract yourself. The clattering of silverware and scrubbing of the crumbs filled the air, providing a temporary respite from the conversation happening behind you. Yet, the sound of Umemiya's infectious laugh still managed to seep through, an incessant reminder of the interaction unfolding nearby.

your heart clenched, felt a pang of jealousy and a wave of possessiveness washed over you, surprising you with its intensity. However, this feeling of jealousy was unfamiliar, and you couldn't fully understand it. You were perplexed, torn between wanting to intervene and knowing you had no right to. The mixture of emotions left you in a state of confusion, wrestling with your unexpected feelings of jealousy.

Umemiya was just a noisy regular, nothing else. right? He just orders his complicated order, eats it, and leaves. no way you would catch feelings with that little interraction? yes that must be it. you're just confused with yourself. Nothing serious. The feeling will go away surely...right?

The setting sun sent golden rays filtering through the windows of the bakery, bathing the interior in a warm and inviting glow. The gentle orange hue cast a peaceful atmosphere over the space, creating a cozy ambiance that seemed to welcome the evening. As your co-worker gathered the empty plates and cups, the friends were finishing up the last of their drinks and pastries, preparing to depart. They thanked your co-worker for their service, bidding them farewell as they got up from their seats.

Umemiya approached you with a carefree smile on his face, his usual boisterous attitude apparent. He handed over the payment for his friends orders, the bills slightly crinkled. The air was still filled with the lingering scent of freshly-baked pastries, and the soft chatter of customers in the background.

He leaned in to say, "Thanks, [name]." He said, with a playful wink. "You're the best!" Then, he turned to leave, joining his friends who were waiting by the exit.

You counted out the bills with practiced ease, making sure everything was in order. Then you placed them at the cash register.

You let out a sigh, "Those guys sure are a handful." You remarked, shaking your head in mild disbelief. "Especially Umemiya... always causing a scene whenever he comes in. I swear, I don't know what I'm going to do with that guy." "its not everyday we get such popular customers, right [name]-san?" she asked, placing down the empty food containers on the counter.

"care to elaborate?"

"well you saw their uniforms right?! those are student at Furin! The deliquent school! And who doesnt like tough independent handsome guys? people are fighting to get a chance with them too! and i might be one of them..." she fiddled  with her hair, remembering the totally-her-type Furin boys that were patrolling some days ago.

You rolled your eyes, amused by your coworker's swooning. "Easy there, lovebird," you chuckled. "You're practically drooling." You teased. "Sure, those Furin boys might have a reputation, but don't get too obsessed. There's more to life than swooning over bad boys, you know?" You teased, giving her a playful nudge.

"Fancy coming from you [name]-san! With that undeniable romantic tension between you and Umemiya-san you should just kiss already! God its so obvious you're down bad for eachother," she scolded.

"I dont like him like that. Absolutely fucking not. What the hell? also don't you have work to do?" You were fuming, how can she accuse you like that? Some nerves this girl has.

"aye ayeee whatever makes you sleep at night boss!" she finally left you alone, face red with the thought of you and umemiya in a romantic relationship. thinking of it now it doesnt seem like a bad idea- wait what are you saying?

As night fell, the streets transformed into a mesmerizing canvas of light and life. The vibrant glow of the street lamps illuminated the sidewalks, casting soft shadows that danced with each passing motorcycle and pedestrian. Pedestrians ambled along, some with purpose and some aimlessly strolling, their laughter and voices creating a symphony of city life. The shops along the street were a kaleidoscope of colors - neon signs, shop windows, and the warm glow of restaurants all contributing to the urban nighttime beauty.

As you strolled down the street, your gaze lingered on the captivating designs of the various restaurants. You couldn't help but stop at grocery stores to purchase charming little snacks that caught your eye. The soft illumination from street lamps created a cozy atmosphere, and the lively hum of the city added to the soothing backdrop. After a few minutes of observing and sampling treats, you continue your journey towards your apartment, feeling a sense of contentment in this routine night-time ritual.

You were abruptly jolted from your thoughts as someone violently collided with you. Irritation flared up, but before you could even snap at the person, you found yourself face-to-face with Umemiya. Surprise replaced the frustration as you recognized the messy-haired troublemaker who frequented your bakery. A mix of emotions - irritation and begrudging familiarity - raced through you. God this could not get any worse.

"[name]-chan? I didnt know you were passing by this street today!" he exclaimed, seemingly happy to see you again.

"yeah me neither.. if you could just excuse me-" you tried slipping away from his grasp but-

"this is also my way to the orphanage! I'll walk you to your apartment like a true gentleman." He had a prideful aura around him but you just dismissed it and walked away.

"heeyy! wait for meee!!"

Umemiya rambled on and on, a never-ending torrent of thoughts and observations flowing out of his mouth at an astounding rate. It was almost as if his brain had an infinite capacity for information. You were stuck in the whirlwind of his conversation, listening to his constant flow of words and musings. It was a mystery as to how he was able to hold, yet alone recall, such a vast amount of random knowledge.

As you arrived at your apartment building, you finally managed to find an opening in the conversation to bid farewell to the endlessly-chatty Umemiya. You gave a tired wave, signalling your need for some peace and quiet. Despite the annoyance you felt towards his incessant chatter, there was an odd fondness underlying it, an acknowledgment of his unique character and his ability to make every interaction memorable.

"Wait! " he shouted, causing you to flinch a bit. "A-are you uh free... tomorrow?" "Are you asking me out?" "no. I mean.. yes, maybe as.. friends?" "i mean, i guess i am,but " in fact you werent. you were supposed to hang out with your friends at a shopping mall.

He made a quiet sound of celebration that you didnt ignore. "You're so cute." "What?" "I said you look like a sack of shit, goodbye."

@sillyhanako ━ do not copy, steal, or reupload my works. Thanks!

[mammillariatasay]

I want to say so much after what happened with ticklethentopple

And I'll say everything I want

I couldn't even imagine how many people are already pissed off by him

It's not that I'm very confrontational, but when they climb into my comfort zone and unreasonably call me a pervert, I'm sorry, dude, but I'm going to fuck you in the mouth

I’ll answer to every fucking detail of your shitty rant

And so..

I've liked tickling since I was 6

Because of one little-known fairy tale that I really loved as a child (I'll show it later)

And I'm very tense about the thought that in the understanding of some, apparently, a love for tickling among children a priori means a future sexual fetish

My attitude to tickling has always been EXCLUSIVELY SFW (I checked this) for me it is a manifestation of love between parents and children/friends/lovers, etc.

Like hugs

I've even said many times that I hate tying up/torture/tears and snot, which is also equated to SFW tickling for some fucking reason

And when some idiot declares in every post that this is a KINK, does he really think we wouldn’t get fucking pissed?

I won't focus on his bullshit about blushing, it's complete nonsense

By the way, my OCs are minors

They are 14-17 years old

And I have NEVER SEXUALIZED THEM until they turn 18 according to the lore!!!

I came up with them when I was 16

They are a reflection of me

My teenage years, high school, first love, first friends

And I'm still a fucking child myself, even though I'm already 22

Why am I not against minors following me? Because I sincerely do not carry any NSFW messages in my blog

And I am not responsible for all my followers, they are not idiots, they understand what I draw and what is written in my blog

Specifically, I do not communicate with minors, but I do not mind if they like and repost my posts because it will not harm them in any way

I literally do not draw anything that contains any violence, etc.

If some minor writes me something inappropriate for his age, I will block him

If you draw tied up people chained to some kind of torture devices, whose eyes are already rolling back and whose faces are redder than a tomato, YOU should not interact with minors and leave us fucking alone

You need to understand the difference between adequate freedom on the Internet and grooming

If you know that some user is talking to children about something obscene, instead of shitting out some kind of paste that we are all sick creatures, throw complaints on THEIR account

Contact the tumblr administration

Notify the police if you know that they live in the same country/city as you

What people like ticklethentopple do is not a fight to protect children, but throwing shit at neighbors

Why do we hide our hobbies from our family/irl friends/BOSSES??

Maybe because we are oppressed even within the community? Maybe because we think that this is something personal? Maybe because we think that our #tkl_art is just... Cringe for ordinary people? Personally, I have always been afraid of being ridiculed and not being known as a pervert

Я так много хочу сказать после того что случилось с ticklethentopple

И я скажу всё что хочу

Я и представить не могла как много людей он уже заебал

Не то чтоб я сильно конфликтная но когда лезут в мою зону комфорта и безосновательно называют меня извращенкой извини чувак но я щас выебу тебя в рот

Я распишу нахуй поминутно блять где кто соснул хуйца блять

И так..

Мне нравится щекотка с 6 ЛЕТ

Из-за одной малоизвестной сказки которую я очень любила в детстве (позже я вам ее покажу)

И меня очень напрягает мысль что в понимании некоторых видимо любовь к щекотке среди детей априори означает будущий сексуальный фетиш

Мое отношение к щекотке всегда было ИСКЛЮЧИТЕЛЬНО SFW (я проверяла это) для меня это проявление любви между родителями и детьми/друзьями/влюблёнными и ТД

Как объятия

Я даже неоднократно говорила что ненавижу связывания/пытки/слезы и сопли что тоже приравнивают к SFW какого то хуя

И когда какой-то хер с горы заявляет в каждом своем посте что это КИНК он думает у нас жопа не сгорит?

Я не буду заострять внимание на его высере про румянец это полный абсурд

Да кстати мои персонажи несовершеннолетние

Им 14-17 лет

И я никогда НИКОГДА НЕ СЕКСУАЛИЗИРОВАЛА ИХ пока им по лору не исполняется 18!!!

Я придумала их когда мне было 16

Они отражение меня

Мой подростковый возраст старшая школа первая любовь первые друзья 

И я блять сама все ещё ребенок хоть мне уже 22

Почему я не против того что несовершеннолетние подписаны на меня? Потому что я искренне не несу в своем блоге никаких NSFW посылов 

И я не несу ответственность за все своих фолловеров они не идиоты они понимают что я рисую и что написано в моем блоге

Конкретно я не общаюсь с несовершеннолетними но я не против если она лайкают и репостят мои посты потому что им это никак не навредит

Я буквально не рисую ничего что содержит в себе какое-то насилие и тд

Если какой-то минор напишет мне что-то неадекватное для его возраста я его заблокирую

Если вы рисуете связанных людей прикованных к каким то пыточным устройствам у которых уже глаза закатываются а лицо краснее помидора это ВАМ не стоит взаимодействовать с минорами а нас блять оставьте в покое

Надо понимать разницу между адекватной свободой в интернете и растлением малолетних

Если вы знаете что какой-то пользователь говорит с детьми о чем то непристойном вместо того чтоб высирать пасту к��кие мы все больные твари накидайте жалоб на ЕГО аккаунт

��апишите администрации тамблера

Напишите заяву в полицию если знаете что он живёт с вами в одной стране/городе

То что делают такие как ticklethentopple не борьба за защиту детей а кидание говна в соседей 

Почему мы скрываем наше увлечение от семьи/ирл друзей/НАЧАЛЬНИКОВ??

Может потому что нас даже внутри комьюнити притесняют? Может потому что мы считаем что это что-то личное? Может потому что мы считаем что наши #tkl_art это просто... Кринж для обычных людей? Я лично всегда боялась быть высмеянной а не прослыть извращенкой

[lovemybluebully]

I feel that Logan, Wade, and Althea's neighbors would be so used to the sound of both Logan and Wade's laughter that they'd learn to tune it out over time. Especially the farting, raspberry noises and Logan's roaring squeals.

Lol! At first their neighbors are like WTF are these two idiots doing? But as time goes on they slowly just start tuning it out or casually turn up their television volume and what not. 😆

Wade personally doesn't care. When Logan gets that bug up his ass to tickle him, Wade laughs loud and proud like no one else exists besides the two of them. He's lived long enough in his apartment to know that everyone can hear everyone else's business, but that is far from being on his list of worries. Not to mention he is very aware of the 4th wall and knows that he's being watched 24/7 so what's a few more people? He has no shame, and if he knew how he would literally live stream their battles online to make some extra cash.

Logan doesn't realize how paper-thin the walls in their apartment are. Sure, he can clearly hear inside their neighboring apartments, but he chalks that up to his enhanced hearing ability and doesn't think much about it. If he knew that their neighbors could hear all the commotion going on in their apartment, including him squealing like a little girl and begging for his life he would be absolutely mortified.

He's out in the hallway having a smoke and he can't figure out why all the neighbor kids are giggling and blowing raspberries at him. 😋 He's looking at them like-

But if he ever does figure it out he'd be so embarrassed and determined to put a stop to it. There's not a chance in Hell that Wade is going to stop tickle attacking him so I can picture him start covering his mouth to try to keep all his noises inside of him or smothering a pillow over his face to literally suffocate himself. But Wade isn't having that nonsense. He loves his laugh and the main reason he tickles him is to hear it. So now he has to make sure he gets his arms pinned out of the way somehow despite Logan's desperate protests about it.

"Wade, no! They can hear every damn breath in here! We gotta stop this childish shit!"

"That's the least of your worries, baby girl. I haven't eaten yet and could really go for some delicious King's Hawaiian rolls...."

"Nononono, not there! W-Wade! I mean it! Keep that mouth away from-EEEEHEHEHEHEHE! AAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!"

And the farting/raspberry noises commence once again. 🤣

[1000plants]

Tell Me A Story

Bucky Barnes x reader (male)

Summary: Drabble based on this prompt: One person has been on the waiting list to check out a library book for months. The other person has the long-overdue book. The two coincidentally meet one day at the library.

Warnings- Some swearing

Word count- almost 2k

Author's Note- I liked this prompt then hated it then liked it again lmao

Masterlist

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“I’m sorry, sir…” The librarian sighs with an apologetic smile as you walk into the library. They had been dealing with your incessance for the past month- or longer, “We still haven't gotten the book back yet.”

The fact that they recognized you upon entry might have been more off putting, but it made your day go by much smoother. Not needing to go through the whole process of checking if the book you wanted was here yet… you'd take that even if it meant being known as that guy.

You had taken maybe all of ten steps into the library, it smelled heavily of parchment, ink, and that vague people smell. And goddamn it was one of your favorite things ever. Though, it was unfortunately paired with one of your  least favorite phrases ever-  it’s not in yet.

“Oh are you shittin’ me?” You grumble under your breath, tugging off your gloves as you walk towards the main desk. Your face was chilled from the brisk late autumn/early winter air. There were flurries starting outside and all you fucking wanted was the stupid Hobbit book.

It was a tradition you didn't even realize you had started with yourself. Right after Halloween, you devoted the following week to rereading the Hobbit. It started after your second year in college, you read the book by recommendation from a professor and just kept rereading it at the same time every year since. By that point, you had seen the movie plus all of the Lord of The Rings movies, but the books had evaded you. 

“Any updates, at least?” You sigh out, leaning your forearms against the high counters of the librarians desk, gloves loosely clutched in your hand. Sure, you could probably buy the book in just about any store… but that would most definitely ruin the experience for you. It was silly to think, but there was something about borrowing it from a library, a book used and loved by countless others before you, and curling up on your couch to read it in just a week that was absolutely heavenly for you.

The librarian shook their head ‘no’, causing you to dejectedly sigh and steal a quick glance around the main room, “The person who has it checked out is very overdue, unfortunately,” they laughed as they pulled up the book information on the computer in front of them.

“Yeah,” you dryly chuckle, trying not to misplace your unhappiness onto the worker who was just doing their damn job, they were probably just as annoyed by the delay as you were, “It was already a week overdue by the time I went to reserve it.”

You pulled your lips into a thin lined smile, slapping the desk lightly as you took a step back to leave.

Maybe you should just go to the bookstore, bite the bullet and just buy the damn thing. Then your new tradition could be digging it out of storage every year along with all your holiday decorations and -- “Oof-!”

“Oh, ‘m bad, sorry,” a deep voice mumbled from behind you. 

You had been so lost in your own thoughts you hadn't been paying attention to anything around you, and you just backed completely into some random guy. Nice going, idiot.

“Sorry, man,” you quickly say back, swiveling around instinctively holding out a hand towards him to make sure he hadn't fallen or something.

But… god, there was no way he would've fallen. No matter how quickly you backed into him. The man was at least 6’ tall, broad shoulders and seemingly built like a brickhouse. It might've just been the hoodie/jacket combo that added to his mass, but something in you said that the clothes were just accentuating how much he actually had.

You didn't even realize you had been staring at the man, he was walking just a few steps towards your left to the book return spot, and you wouldn't have snapped out of your trance unless you caught a glimpse of the book he had.

The Hobbit.

… this mother fu-

“Hey!” The librarian said with a cheery grin, holding out their hand for the book instead of letting him drop it into the return area, “Looks like we do have it after all!”

The man doesn't really have a reaction as he hands them the book, seeming more confused than anything else. He glanced at you and gave you a slight smile - a smirk? Maybe?

“Y-you…” You started to mumble out, eyes locked on your prize as the librarian scans it.

“Been waiting for it long?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he also watches his book getting checked in. There was a slightly embarrassed blush across his cheeks, or it could be from the cold perhaps. He swiftly pulled out his wallet to pay the overdue fee, which was probably a decent amount by this point.

“Just over a month,” you huff out, stepping to the side to let him pay as the librarian reads out the amount he owes.

You knew you shouldn't really say anything, you’d finally get the book you'd been looking for and could fulfil this little tradition you had, "Could've returned it sooner,” You mindlessly comment.

Immediate regret sinks in, you press your lips firmly together and stare sheepishly at the countertop. It was the holiday season and you were being pissy about an overdue book.

But the man didn't seem too put off by your comment, he just chuckled and gave a half hearted shrug as he tucked his card back into his wallet. It was a black card, you noticed.

So this fucker had basically infinite money and was still unable to return a damn book on time?

“I should’ve, you're right,” He admitted simply, glancing at you as he leaned against the counter. He was getting comfortable, almost like he was analyzing your moves the same way he’d analyze a book. It forced you to step closer to him to get the book checked out.

“But, in my defense,” He adds, glancing at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips. It was hard to see his face since he had a hat tugged over his head, but you could tell he had a light beard and longer brown hair, “I never have to deal with anyone else impatiently waiting for it.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but the realization that you finally had your book was lifting your spirits more and more. You couldn't help the softer smile that overcame you as you worked to get out your library card, the familiar worn out cover of the book filled you with a simple kind of warmth.

“Its… its just this stupid tradition I have,” you explain, holding your card under the reader while the librarian stamps the inner book cover, “I read it the same time every year.”

He nodded, almost reverently as if the book was just as important to him. Which, it might be, you don't know. You notice his lingering gaze on the book, “Good tradition.” He simply comments.

You also nodded, feeling a little less embarrassed by your attachment to the book. You were both quiet as you took the book from the librarian, you held it tightly. The worn cover felt familiar against your fingers and palm, still slightly warm since it had been hot potatoed between people. 

“You… you like the book, at least?" You finally mustered up the courage to actually speak directly to him. You hold up the book, taking a few steps away from the counter if someone else needs the checkout desk. The sudden feeling of sheepishness that had settled in your body was something you hadn't expected. Your heart beat a little faster, a little harder, and you were grateful for the book to hold onto so that your hands didn't fidget.

The man followed you, a bigger grin across his lips as he nodded enthusiastically, “Oh, yeah! It’s a great book. I- I’ve read it a bunch of times,” He admits, locking eyes with you.

He shifted on his feet a few times, maybe jitters that matched your own, or the chill from the outside as he tried to get his blood pumping again.

“I’m… I’m sorry for, uh, keepin’ it checked out for so long,” He mutters again, turning his head to look away from you.

You softly smiled, lightly tapping the book against his arm, not noticing the distinct sound of metal, “I know I sounded a little pissed, but it’s not really a big deal. I’m, uhm, sorry I overreacted.” You were still feeling bad. This man had been nothing but kind and you clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

“You had the right to be pissed,” He snorted. There was a beat of silence between the two of you. You crossed your arms lightly over your chest, and he mirrored it a moment later.

“Uhm, what's- uh, what's that tradition you were talking about?” the man stuttered out. You would call it flustered, but you wern't about to get ahead of yourself.

“Uh, right,” You say, your voice was a little more airy than usual, “It’s, it’s nothing crazy,” You look down at the book in your hand, then back to him, “In college a teacher had me read it, and I just liked it so much I kept reading it in mid November, gets me in the holiday mood for some reason.”

The word November made the man suck in air through his teeth, he shoots you a sheepish smile, “I hope early December is good enough?” He teases.

“December is definitely fine, don't worry…” You trail off, looking at him expectantly for his name. This mystery man who had been harboring your book wasn't goin to stay a mystery to you for much longer.

“James- ah- Bucky. Everyone calls me Bucky,” He quickly offers, his smile growing a bit more. The way his eyes widened with excitement reminded you of a dog. He prompts you for your name nd when you tell him he repeats it back softly. Like he was testing how it sounded.

“...I like that name,” Bucky whispers.

Normally, the unrestrained smile on you face, the heat in your cheeks, and the butterflies in your stomach would make you recoil. But feeling them for Bucky felt more right than wrong. Hell, it didn't feel wrong at all.

And maybe that's why you felt bold. Maybe it was the relief of getting your book that prompted your next move… maybe it was the holiday spirit.

“It’d look a lot better in your phone,” You confidently say, for once your shaky voice didn't betray you. You hold out your hand, nodding slightly for him to give you his phone.

Bucky quickly pulled out his phone, not once taking his eyes off of you, like you'd disappear if he did. You had to bite back the laugh at how may times he nearly dropped his phone as he fishes it out for you.

Once you get it, you punch in your number and name. You hand it back to him, catching a glimpse at the time, which tells you you need to get going. You clumsily gave your excuse, waving to him briefly as you turned to make your way out of the library. With your back to him, you didn't need to hide the goofy smile that had been making your face ache the entire time. 

It wasn't until you were about a block away, huddled in your coat with your hands buried in your pockets to hide from the chill, you then felt your phone vibrate. Checking the message from the nameless number made your heart soar.

Youre right, it does look good. But the phrase “Want to grab coffee sometime?” might be better. -Bucky

[championofthefade]

Here is what I do like about Veilguard.

Long story short: While I have some gripes about the game, there are the things I do like about Veilguard. I have 150 hours in this game and I’m a slow player. (I also love lore.)

Gameplay! Which surprised me because I didn’t like playing warrior or rogue in the other games. But I think Veilguard does have cool playstyles that I thoroughly enjoy.

My current run is a Nightmare Grey Warden Warrior, that’s going to romance Harding, uses sword and shield. The war hammer is a bit slow to me but I’m definitely going to try it in another run.

(I also have another run going beside this to play a Veil Jumper-Veil Ranger to romance Bellara with as a break from Nightmare.)

I usually pick playing a mage (I like magic), but having played a Rogue Laidir (romanced Neve) and a Mage Ingellvar (romancing Lucanis again) as well has been so much fun!

I don’t do crazy builds because I’m just here for the story, but the combat is genuinely fun to me.

Though I find Lords of Fortune kinda lacking, I enjoy the factions. Mourn Watch is my favorite by far, and I think the leaders/contacts are everything. As someone who has only consumed the games of Dragon Age, these people (Viago & Teia, Evka & Antoine) make me want to pick up the book they are in. (Tevinter Nights I believe.)

I love, love, love, love, LOVE the level designs! Weisshaupt is possibly one of my favorite missions to play, along side anything in Treviso and Blackthorn Manor. They are very special to me! I love exploring areas, and wish they weren’t always level locked but I get it.

Though I haven’t figured out how to fix the annoying garbling audio bug I have in heavily dense areas like Arlathan, Treviso and Minrathous, otherwise I have a good time.

I enjoy the romances as they are, and can acknowledge that they feel flat. I am constantly giggling like a blushing idiot when I flirt with everyone because it’s honestly good for what it is! Yes, I think we’re missing content and the pacing is weird, but I like it because there are little moments where you get the feel of the companions personality. (Davrin’s Thrill of the Chase is honestly a must have every play through until I pull a reverse Zevran on his ass!)

And the different romances have given me seven new ocs to explore and revisit whenever I want!

I’m the kind of person that plays ‘everyone gets a girlfriend unless I have to play a man’. Dorian Pavus is a special case and I would do it again for him. Anything for the archon.

Sidebar: Okay yeah, it’s interesting that if you choose Treviso that Dorian becomes Archon, because if you choose Minrathous you can choose between Dorian and Maevaris. Hearing Mae say this isn’t the South was what made me think more deeply about choosing Dorian for my Laidir run. Because Dorian’s revolution vs Mae’s talks was kinda pointless because they could’ve easily co-piloted change in Tevinter, I mean they support each other no matter what already, why not just co-pilot the big chair? I get Dorian’s POV of everything must go in order to change (echoes of Anders and Divine Leliana) and that’s why I choose Dorian. Because sometimes talk doesn’t work.

Anyway, moving on.

I think of the endings, I like the tricking Solas one and the Solavellan / Inquisitor Friendship ones the most. If my Inquisitor wants to stop Solas, I will just skip using Mythal’s essence altogether for the sake of keeping true to what I headcanon for my oc, you know? (Though, most of my Inquisitors hold Solas in a high regard so it’s rare that I don’t try to save him.)

I like the codex entries, some of them feel very personalized, though I wish Rook had more mentions like the grocery list where they requested chocolate. (Inquisitor’s unhealthy obsession with elfroot makes a comeback?)

Important game information shouldn’t be tucked away in the codex, but it’s still enjoyable to sit and read the little references. (TR signed Rocking Griffons have my heart!!)

I wanted to see more of the Evanuris, and wished we didn’t brush by the revelation we just uncovered the origins of the Chantry. (Poor Harding.) I think we got lucky that the other Evanuris aren’t around anymore. Would’ve been an absolute nightmare to deal with.

I don’t like the dragon fights! How dare the Dragon Age for me to fight the dragons that are coming back! Leave ‘em alone (lovingly).

Yes, I think there are areas where this game needs improvement (lore consistency, player agency, etc.) but I like Veilguard for what it is and can see myself returning to more often than the previous installments.

Veilguard has potential, I just think it’s a matter of time for me to get through the gripes I have with it.

[another-day]

the last episode in review for inanimate insanity EVER!!!!

as always, SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 18 OF INANIMATE INSANITY SEASON TWO!!!!!

holy shmowzow

this was a fantastic episode, such a fun and satisfying way to end everything off yknow

let’s get into it!!!!

this first segment was heartbreaking.

seeing mephone reflect on everything he’s done and seeing the consequences of his actions was such an incredibly crafted sequence. his disassociation, his distance from what’s happening, it really shows how traumatic all this is for him. mephone has lost everyone he has ever loved, and he’s stuck with a man who has done nothing but demean and hurt him. he feels hopeless, and the song in this segment also gorgeously captures that.

his slow walk to the cliff edge, looking over everything he’s lost, only for cobs to pull him away? amazing, mephone’s not really there because there’s nothing to be there for, and cobs is trying to pull him back into reality.

this idea of like a cloud in mephone after everyone was deleted was so interesting, like i get it was forshadowed and all but its so cool that its so non-linear too

anyway, BOX?? i’ll be real, i was always a box hater, and i’m glad to know that alive box is too. she’s actually such a cool character though and i totally love her. her and suitcase both having experiences with drowning was so interesting too, like okay i see you brown retangular characters who were somewhat meek but grew from that and also have had bad experienced with water.

also, ahem ahem, new suitcase ship?

also, just because i understand that tumblr has a photo limit, seeing mephone stand up to cobs by warning the prime shimmer was wonderful. he’s finally taking action to amend what he’d done. granted, it didn’t really work out, but what matters is that he tried right?

i am so glad they canonically met

they’re two characters that have grown from their anger filled behaviour and (ultimately) end up making a sacrifice for the people they love. they’re also just violent idiots at some points, and i think that’s really great for them.

also, KNICKLE CRUMBS, 4s comforting knife after he expresses his upsetness about pickle ough my heart.

now all of the hug scenes were very cute but WHAT.

this felt like a 35 minute payjay makeout scene because i was not expecting this. salt’s total freakout was hilarious too, alongside pepper’s awkward congratulations, though i can tell salt will NOT be coping well with the realisation of the guy she’s pining over being gay.

also, i’m not adding the photo for this one, but the starfruit and guava drama went crazy i loved it

WAAAAAH

this was an incredible scene for mepad, because it really emphasises his core values. its clear that he adores the contestants, his actions since he’s arrived have made that very clear. but he’s also incredibly selfless, you have to be to make a sacrifice like that. he’s always seen potential in every character, and i think people forget that sometimes. he dislikes mephone because mephone doesn’t acknowledge the contestants’ efforts, and that he withholds information from them for his own benefit. he’s just such an incredible character

also, i’m honestly not all that surprised that the genocidal business ceo pulled out a branded knife to stab his creation, thats all i wanted to say.

this is such a pivotal moment for knife.

it’s representative of his atonement for what he’s done wrong as a whole. he sacrificed his safety for someone who despised him due to what heMd done in the past. he was the type not to tolerate these kinds of people, and its just wonderful seeing him overcome such things and move forth yknow

this was hilarious actually, also offering it up to mephone was insane

knickle crumbs,,,,,,,,, i love them so much

also knife becoming a ghost was hilarious to me because i’m currently writing a fic about PICKLE being a ghost but oh well new au i guess??

DO YOU SEE THESE LOOKS OK like you’re in love with him little buddy

also taco being petty about pickle’s forgiveness for mephone shows that she still has a really long way to go in terms of genuinely apologising, and i really hope she gets there eventually yknow

this was overall a really sweet ending for a fantastic show, and i am so happy it ended the way it did. sure it was a little silly at points, but inanimate insanity always has been. a bug musical number featuring all the songs from episodes past just felt like the perfect way to finish up a show like this.

as someone who’s been watching this show since 2015, this ending meant a lot to me, because its an ending to a big part of my life as well (to a degree, i will not be ceasing posting). and i feel like this episode beautifully shows that yes the future’s unpredictable and unknown, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep going anyway. build your own future yknow!!

but yeah, this was fantastic, and words cannot express how grateful i am for inanimate insanity as a whole. thank you animation epic, for everything.

[ezrazwrldz]

vent. i may have yapped. deleting later.

i genuinely thought i was doing better. but bpd has to come in and take all that away from me. all i’ve got that i’m clinging on to is the fact i’m 3 months self harm free. other than that, i’m an emotional, unstable wreck.

my friends think i’m a fucking psychopath. i’m deranged and i see things that aren’t there. i leave nothing but a path of destruction wherever i walk. i absolutely wreck everything i touch. i hear things that don’t exist, i see my fucking dad in every brown haired older man that walks past. i always panic for a moment, thinking it’s him. i missed out on my childhood because of that fucking dick. i’m 15, but i may as well be 50 with how fast i’ve been forced to mature. that man wrecked me. he fucking ruined my entire life. every traumatic experience has stemmed from what he did, at least a little. the bad people i got connected to and attached to were because i bonded to them through my trauma.

TW. DETAILED TRAUMA VENT RELATING TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND PEDOPHILIA AND SUICIDE AND GROOMING AND TRAUMADUMPING AND SELF HARM

my dad was a wife beater and alcoholic. i was as young as 4 when they broke up, but i has still seen everything. i don’t even fucking remember much of my childhood because of dissociation.

i do remember my 7th birthday, though.

we were in the car on the way home from my birthday party, and i was happy as anything. but, my mum and dad were in the same car, and that could never end well in a million years. they got into an argument, and my dad opened the car door and undid his seatbelt on the motorway, threatening to jump out and end his life right there, in front of me and my siblings. i screamed and cried and begged, resorting to screaming about it being the ‘worst birthday ever’ to try and distract them both and hope my dad forgot about the attempt he intended to make. and, i don’t remember anything else. i literally only remember the moment i screamed ‘this is the worst birthday ever’, and both my parents turned to me, my dad still stood there with the car door open and tried to convince me everything was fine. i knew better. i always knew better.

i remember when that man promised he would never leave me, but he forgot my birthday this year. there was a time when we didn’t talk for 4 years - only being forced back into each other’s vicinity when my mum and stepdad got mad that i went to an after school homework club that i wasn’t meant to go to and made me pack my bags, driving me to his house convincing me they were going to make me live with him. that they didn’t want me anymore.

that night was my breaking point, and the first time i went to social services about my mum and stepdad, and they got involved, which ruined my relationship with my parent even more. my stepdad was threatening to move out, and asking if i could be sent to a mental hospital for treatment or a facility for troubled kids on weekends or whatever. i hated being at home. i preferred school but that was hell too. that’s where i met her at 11 years old. i’m gonna refer to her as amy for privacy reasons. amy was a traumadumper. a REAL traumadumper, not just the tiktokified version of what a traumadumper is.

i, being the fucking idiot i am, became very close friends with amy. we bonded over similar trauma, and i’d try to talk to her about my problems as she said i could, but she’d always turn it on herself. she’d send me HORRIFIC self harm photos on snapchat, only to send me a ‘whoops!! trigger warning!!’ after, as if it was all some stupid fucking joke. amy would also make up fake trauma story after fake trauma story, each one more disturbing than the last. but, i was obsessed with her. i loved her so, so much, so i was completely blind to how poorly this girl was treating me. i loved her, and i wanted to save her. to save her from this “horrible life” that she had been through. eventually, she binned me off for trying to prevent someone from killing themself (which also turned out to be a joke as an attempt to bully me but that’s another story)

a few weeks after amy, i met one of my groomers. real sweetheart he was, pretending to be my age to sexually exploit me and using the fact i’m mentally unstable to take advantage of me. he was my world when i thought he was my friend. he meant everything to me. and, in classic bpd fashion, he became my FP. just like amy had previously.

so, when my parents found out and took him away from me, i fought tooth and nail to get him back, completely in denial, no matter what my parents or the literal police told me.

when the police decided to “take action”, they said they couldn’t do anything due to only having his discord and email. the problem? this fucking guy has my address and school. and he’s still out there. i mean, it’s been a long time now, but i still get nightmares and live in fear.

[hexxedghost]

I've been trying to think on how to respond to tags, cos I love reading them, they make me sit in my stupid little chair and wiggle with joy. So, I'm gonna try it this way~ I'll tag as well below the cut

@panchulien's tags first

I'm so glad you liked this oliv~ I loved reading your tags fuidsafafd I wanted it to be sweet as it coul be, and Nik has the patience of a fucking saint with how oblivious I wrote Price.

@jgvfhl

I laughed so fucking hard at that image. I do write Price dense af in this, but god he's still so lovable for it. Kate was done with their shit before they even left on holiday. And they make sense as people who go fishing no???? I did have to inflict the sunburn, I love a holiday or event that goes kinda shit but is still a treasured memory

@nekrosmos

I saved yours for last bc you wrote a wall that I was so happy to read

Your art is just canon to me, I always love seeing it. One day I will write something based on your art of Nik in the suit, bc god damn did you serve up a feast.

Kate...kinda took over every scene she was in. I have the same problem when I write something with Gaz in it. They just...demand to speak.

Girlie needs a boozy vacay stat, and the lesbian gay holiday stay needs to be a tradition for them I reckon

Nik needs to be at *something* and its cute if its fishing.

I love these grumpy gits getting to be joyful and frivolously stupid and playful, that was a really fun bit to write

I...have a weakness, for a cherished memory, not in spite of things going wrong but nearly *because* of them. I think theres something really human about it.

As much as a sweet perfect holiday would have been nice for them; I think they both care for each other because of their darker more broken parts. That should reflect in how they get together too wow look at me go on here But yes, I sunburned the poor bastard for it. xD

Nikolai is defs a gentleman

Honestly, most of that dialogue, I laughed writing it, a lot. Just imaging a very resigned Nikolai, who's long accepted the man he loves is a complete fucking idiot sometimes.

Oblivious Price is so real to me, I need that old man to be a goofy lil idiot sometimes. For enrichment purposes.

She'd be so right too

You're turning me into a melted fucking puddle over here. When I think of like THE people I want to go to for NikPrice content, it's you and on-a-lucky-tide that I think of. Thank you, this is definitely the highest compliement you could give me

NikPrice Holiday Threadfic

I hit 200 followers and bluesky and did a NikPrice threadfic as a celebration, figured I'd post it here. I will expand on it and post it to ao3 at some point, but y'all get this for now. (Inspired this art of Nik in a Hawaiian shirt by @nekrosmos that lives with me always)

The holiday had been a great idea, honestly.

They'd all earned a bit of R&R after the shitshow of a year. Some sun, sand and relaxation, lazy drinks by the pool and good company. 

Except that hadn't worked out.

A hotel a few streets over had flooded. Not a big deal.

Until the convention it had been hosting had every attendee spill over to the hotel they'd picked. From relaxing holiday to surviving the madhouse within hours.

And they'd only just landed.

The lobby was packed with people, a wall of bodies they had to battle through to get to the front counter.

John was already looking forward to hiding in the hotel room and just drinking away the rest of the day, and from the white-knuckle grip Kate had on her luggage, he wouldn't be drinking alone.

When Kate had given their booking number, the receptionist had frowned at their screen in confusion.

They'd politely told them to wait as they made a call, and John could swear he felt Kate's blood pressure rise. There'd already been a cock-up with the flights, so Jen and Nikolai wouldn't be arriving until tomorrow. It wasn't doing wonders for her mood.

The receptionist turned back to them, a sheepish expression on their face, as they apologised for the mix-up. Apparently, in the chaos, their booking had been cancelled.

He can't see Kate's expression from where he's standing, but judging by the way the blood drains out of the receptionist face, he can guess she isn't happy.

To avoid potential bloodshed, he manages to coax Kate down the street to a bar, where she angrily stabs at her phone.

"For fuck's sake." she tosses it down on the table and picks up her drink angrily, most of the wine drained in a single swallow.

"Okay," she says, "I have back ups. We are going to relax if it kills me."

"Might if you don't calm down." he murmurs into his beer, unable to stop the smile at the daggers she glares at him.

"Shut up, John." she mutters.

It takes a few phone calls, and abandoning the beach idea, but at least they have somewhere to stay that isn't infested with tourists and loud screaming children.

It's a cabin, further up river. Jen and Nikolai had managed to change flights and were already there, while John and Kate endured a crowded train ride that left them sore and tired.

But at least they'd made it, finally, with no bloodshed.

The cabin is what some magazine would call 'quaint' or 'rustic'. It's set amongst a forest, with a jetty leading onto the lake. There's even a small dinghy docked at the end.

Against all odds, John feels his shoulder might be beginning to relax.

------

The sun is setting now.

Nikolai had cooked, signing along to the radio while Jen kept them plied with drinks. They've all since collapsed on the couch, the music softly playing in the background, gentle with the fading light.

"Another?" Nik is already handing him the glass, ice clunking amongst the amber liquid.

"Cheers." he raises the glass in toast before taking a sip, savouring the pleasant burn.  

Kate is cradling the cocktail with the kind of care most would reserve for their firstborn, and judging by the flush on her cheeks, she's well and truly drunk.

"Wish we'd managed to beach house." she says wistfully, staring into the distance.

"Beach house? You wanted beach house?" Nik teases, falling into the seat next to John, the long line of his thigh warm against John's.

"I'm a beach party girl." Kate deadpans, Jen giggling into her shoulder.

They eventually head to bed, Kate declaring the night was over after Jen and Nik had drunkenly screamed their way through another verse of Queen.

John falls facefirst into the pillow, limbs lax and limber with drink and tries not to think about the memory warmth of a hand on his knee lingering.  

When he opens his eyes, there's sunlight filtering through the blinds. His mouth is tacky and his head aches a bit, but a brew and some food should put him right.

Nik's in the kitchen, apparently none the worse for wear as he bustles around humming softly, moving aside so John can make a coffee.

"The other two?" he asks, stirring sugar into his cup.

"Sleeping still. I am thinking they want a quiet day." Nik says, pushing a plate of food towards him.  

"Ta." he says, not one to turn down a free meal.

"What's plan for today then?"

John thinks it over, gaze drifting outside.

"Might go fishing. Boat's there." John pauses, glancing over at Nik "You could come along, if you want. S'not for everyone."

Nik beams at him.  "I would like that."

-------

It takes a quick trip into town for some gear, but the boat's serviceable. There's a slight breeze, the lake waters rippling.

It's not quite the beach vibes they'd wanted for a holiday. Although that hasn't stopped Nikolai.

"What're you wearing?" John sighs, setting the rods down in the boat.

"I am holiday, I am dressing for occasion." Nik says, holding out his arms to show off the eye searingly bright Hawaiian shirt

Price rolls his eyes, but can't help but smile as Nikolai saunters down the pier like a model on a catwalk. Behind him, Kate has shuffled out of the cabin, clearly hungover with sunglasses crooked on her face.

He gives a wave and laughs as she just flips him off and collapses into a chair.  

"Don't drown." he hears her call out.

------

They'd brought beer with them, sitting back and cracking the cans open once they out on the water, lines dangling in the water.

Nik, sneaky bastard, had apparently decided more beach vibes were needed as he stuck a shitty cocktail umbrella into the can.

"You've not got a coconut in there too?" John asks, nudging him as he laughs. "Sadly they did not have any." he chuckles, before looking to John seriously, "I did check." "Course you did, you bleeder." John settles back, tucking his hat forward to block out the worst of the sun,

"Suppose it's not quite the summer holiday we'd wanted." he sighs. "It is sunny at least." Nik says squinting at the bright sunshine beating down of them. "We could have gone to France or Spain for that." John gripes.

"My French is not very good." "My Spanish is worse." John counters.

They enjoy the silence, occasionally reeling in a line. Nik is muttering angrily as he fails to get a worm on the hook for the fifth time. John takes pity on him. "You don't like fishing, do you?" he asks, as he threads the hook through tossing the line back out into the water.

"I have never fished before. I do not think I am very good at it." Nik sighs, taking a drink.

Price shakes his head, "S'alright. Not about being good at it. Just relaxing with company really." "I like the company." Nik says earnestly. Price clears his throat.

"Should hope so, you put up with me enough." he coughs, prepping his own line and casting. "I am enjoying myself just fine." Nik insists.

"Bit rubbish though. We could have done something you liked." John insists.

He feels a bit guilty about it, if he's honest.

Kate had endured one fishing trip with him before telling him that as much as she valued their friendship, if he ever put her on a boat again, she'd hold him underwater until the bubbles stopped. Nik wouldn't threaten him. He'd be more likely to just smile and endure it, which come to think of it, he might be.

"John." Nik says gently, breaking him out of his thoughts, "I am where I want to be." "Stuck with me on a lake?" he looks at Nik doubtfully. "And very happy about it." Nik counters readily, grinning. John nudges him with his shoulder, and they let the conversation drop, a comfortable silence enveloping them. They finish most of the beer, Price settling back and tipping his hat forward. "Might have a kip for a bit." John murmurs, eyelids already heavy. Nik hums. The sunshine and the liquor in his veins has made him pleasantly warm, and he drifts off the sounds of the water lapping against the edge of the boat.

--------

The sun is low in the sky, peeking through the trees when he wakes up. "Christ, how long was I asleep?" he glances down to see Nik snoring at the other end of the boat. He rolls his eyes fondly, nudging Nik with his foot. "Rise and shine, Nik"

Nikolai grumbles, curling in on himself in a way that doesn't melt John's heart in his chest. He shakes him by the shoulder. Nik snorts, looking around before blinking up at him sleepily "Oh, your skin" Nik frowns, gesturing to John's arms "Eh?" As he looks down, he sees what Nik is talking about.

Angry red sunburn covers his arms. John sigh, at least his hat had spared him the worst of it. In his defence, he thought he'd had enough sunblock on. "Can't get any worse at least." he says. The clouds above them choose that moment to open and unleash a torrential downpour. "Fuck." John mutters

Nik meets his very unimpressed look with a grin. "You should know better, Captain" he teases. "Shut it you, help me get the lines in." -------- They're a few meters from the dock when the boat tips over. John bursts through the water, yelling in frustration.

Between the sound of raindrops pelting his hat, he can hear Nik's bright laughter. "What's funny?" Price shouts over the rain. "All of it, no?" comes the reply over his shoulder. He turns and gets a splash of water to the face. "Fuck off." he says, splashing back. There's a moment they lock eyes the challenge mirrored in his gaze. Kate finds them giggling like idiots, shoving water at each other. "What the fuck are you two doing?"

"Fishing." Nik says proudly, sending John into another fit of hysterics, the sheer fucking ridiculousness of the situation finally breaking him.

"Just get inside." Kate says, rolling her eyes.

-------

Later on, John is now realising just how badly he got sunburned. He groans into the pillow, his skin feeling tender and too tight on his body. "You're very stupid sometimes" Kate says, putting a whisky beside him. "My hero." he groans. "Oh hush, you big baby. it's sunburn. You've complained less with bullet wounds." Kate chides, turning to him with her hand on the door handle. "You gonna live until morning?" "No." "That's the spirit." she says nonchalantly, moving down the hallway. John thinks he can hear murmurs but he doesn't care enough to listen. He's too busy feeling sorry for himself. The footsteps reapproach. "I'm not dying, Kate." he grumbles, rolling his eyes. "Glad to hear it." Nik says, closing the door gently behind him. John leans up to look at him and immediately hisses at the pressure on his arms.

"Figured you went to bed already." he says, trying to settle back in a position that doesn't leave him in pain.

"I am." Nik says moving towards the bed. John frowns confused. "What you doing here then?" he asks, tracking Nik as he moves around the room. "Sleeping?" "Not in your room?"

Nik sounds amused when he sighs. "It's a two bedroom cabin, John."

John blinks. He hadn't actually given it much thought the first night. He'd been drunk and tired and just fallen into bed. But-

"Where'd you sleep then?" he asks.

"Couch. But my back is old, this seems more comfortable, no?"

Nik seems to consider something for a moment, looking a little unsure of himself as he says, "If you are not comfortable, I can-"

"No, it's fine. Just-" John breaks off, suddenly unable to meet Nik's eyes "Hadn't thought about it." he finishes lamely.

They sit there awkwardly for a moment.

Nik passes over a tube. "For your arms. Jen said it would help."

It's some kind of moisturiser with 100% natural aloe vera, apparently. He clicks open the tube and gives it a sniff. It's not unpleasant, oddly reminding him of the smell of clean laundry and rain.

It's stickier than he anticipated, though, as he massages it into his forearms.

Price sucks air through his teeth as he twists to get the back of his biceps. The angle is awkward and pulls at the skin, which even with the cooling lotion feel too heated and tight.

"Let me." Nik offers, holding out a hand. Price shakes his head.

"I got it." he insists. Nik shrugs and leans back.

He doesn't 'got it'. After stubbornly trying to shift his shoulder forward only to feel further irritation, he growls and offers the tube out for Nik.

Nik, to his credit, doesn't laugh at him. Just nudges him forward to get a better angle.

John jumps at the first touch of cold cream, Nik murmuring an apology before focusing on the task at hand. Given the size and general way Nik carries himself, his hands are surprisingly gentle.

The thought makes John's stomach twist in a way that he doesn't particularly want to examine too closely

It maybe takes all of a minute, but it feels like an eternity before he hears the click of the cap being closed. He lets out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, jumping when Nik pats him on the shoulder.

“Helped?" he asks, raising his eyebrows while John shrugs back into his shirt.

"Yeah, ta." his throat feels tight. His skin feels flushed, wholly unrelated to the sunburn coating his arms. The bed shifts as Nik gets up and busies himself in the bathroom.

Wanting to prevent another awkward conversation, and desperate to ignore that melting feeling in his chest, John makes the very mature decision to avoid the entire thing and just go to sleep.

It nearly works.

The bed dips under Nik's weight as he settles in, snuggling under the blanket before idly asking if John was awake.

John feigns sleep and after a few minutes, he hears Nik's breathing deepen and even out, interrupted by the occasional snore.

Sleep is illusive though, and instead his eyes track the shafts of moonlight shift on the wall, as his mind refuses to settle.

There'd been an awkwardness between him and Nik as of late. Which he desperately wants to fix. They'd had an easy, close friendship for years. But now there were sudden stumbles in their conversations. John could never anticipate them, thrown off every time by the sudden surge of emotions that he couldn't seem to identify.

It left his stomach in knots, blood rushing under his skin and palms sweating. Like he was anxious, but there shouldn't be any reason as to why. He trusted Nik, hell he might trust Nik more than Kate and that was saying something.

It wasn't fear, or caution. But it made him feel skittish in a way that unsettled him. And part of him, didn't want to deal with it. Instead, shoving the emotions away, and desperately trying to steer them back towards normal. Though, he often ends up throwing them further off course, over correcting and stumbling over words.

A heavy sigh leaves him as he burrows into the pillow, hissing again at his arms brushing the cotton.

Maybe he'd talk to Kate about it.

She might at least knock enough sense into him to get him back on track. Stop him putting his foot in his mouth at every opportunity.

--------

Kate has that thousand yard stare she usually gets when he talks about Nik.

"You're very stupid sometimes, John." she says eventually, taking a long sip from her cocktail.

"Bit early innit?" he nods to the mimosa

"I'm. On. Holiday" she says, flicking drops from the glass at him with each word. Price flinches away, but smiles warmly at her. It's nice to see her more playful side, normally hidden under the sturdy persona of competence and intellect.

Though a lot of that is due to Jen, who's very presence seems to immediately thaw Kate's icy exterior. Jen is dancing away in the kitchen, singing off-key to the radio as she washes the dishes.

Kate glances over and smiles in a way that makes Price feel like he's intruding. Like a secret, kept hidden, soft and warm lighting her eyes from within.

He smiles into his coffee.

"Glad you're happy, Kate." he says softly. Kate looks over to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You could be too, you know?" she says coolly, but the shine in her eyes lingers as she glance towards the kitchen.

"I am happy." he argues, frowning. Kate gets that look again, eyes faraway before they focus back on him, intently.

"I used to think I was happy to. But it wasn't happiness. Not really."

"What was it?"

"Status quo." she says simply. "Nothing lost, nothing gained. Until Jen." she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "When I met her. I realised that what I'd called happy…it couldn't even compare. Like stepping into the sun after only having a candle to light your way."

She idly draws patterns with the on the table, condensation having slipped down the edge of the glass. "You deserve the sun, John."

"Reckon I had my fair share yesterday." he jokes, gesturing to his arms. She rolls her eyes and flicks another drop at him.

There's the sound of footsteps as Nik shuffles into the room behind them, jaw cracking from a yawn.

"Morning." he says sleepily, eyes still heavy lidded.

"Sleep alright?" John asks, turning back with an elbow over the back of the chair. Which he regrets immediately as the sunburn stings.

"Suffering still, Captain?" Nik teases, pausing on his trek to the kitchen.

He's in agony.

"I'm fine." he smiles, even if it feels a little forced. Nik doesn't call him out on it.

When John turns back, Kate is giving him a very searching look.

"What?" he asks.

She just sighs and pats his hand. "Try enjoy the weather, John." she murmurs, going back to her drink.

-------

There's a nice restaurant in the nearby town. It's got good ratings, the food is apparently a local speciality and the drinks are cheap. It sounds like a good night. That John definitely can't take part in.

Over the course of the day, the skin on his arms had gone from a shiny red to angry and peeling. He feels disgusting and grumpy, patience wearing thin at the constant tug and pull of flaking skin.

Now that night had fallen, he'd set himself on the deck out back with a supply of whisky,   deciding he'd earned it after the annoyance of the day.

He can hear the click of high heels in the kitchen, Jen most likely, as she peeks around the door.

"You sure you won't come along?" she calls out. He can hear Kate and Nik speaking from further in the house, words muffled by the walls.

"Nah, I'm good here. Not the best company right now. Reckon I'll turn in early." he smiles, toasting her with his drink.

Jen smiles softly, walking over and dropping a kiss onto his head before calling goodbye as she headed back inside.

Price settles back, gazing at the night sky above him. This far from the city, he can make out some constellations.

The breeze off the lake is cool in the night air as it brushes over him. The amber liquid in his glass delicately swishes against the ice as he eagerly welcomes the smoky heat over his tongue.

For a moment, he closes his eyes and just lets himself exist for a moment. His nerves are still raw, irritated from the pain and constant push and pull of his mind trying to untangle his thoughts.

Kate's words ring in his mind. Was he happy? If he was really honest with himself. He was proud of his accomplishments, grateful for those close to him, his squad, his friends.

He was lonely, though. They'd attended Gaz's wedding last year, and the space beside him had felt emptier than normal. It felt more pronounced when he caught Ghost and Soap being drawn to each other like magnets, like they were the only ones in the room. With Kate and Jen, he wished he had that kind of warm, gentle joy they shared.

Which brought the trail of his thoughts back to Nikolai. The sudden choking awkwardness, the moments he didn't know where to step in case he lost his footing on the precarious edge he found himself perched on.

Kate said it was like having a candle before seeing the sun. He didn't know how to fix that. There was no sun at night.

"John?"

"Christ!" he jumps, knocking the glass over as he spins to look where Nik is sheepishly peeking around the door.

"I did call out, you didn't respond." Nik moves over, settling in the chair next to him.

"Didn't hear." John says, hand over his heart where it's doing it's best to beat out of his chest.

"Didn't mean to scare you." Nik apologises, pouring a fresh whisky after righting the glass.

"You don't scare me," he says without thinking, mind still tangled in the weeds of his thoughts.  Nik looks over to him, tilting his head.

"I should hope not." he murmurs, still staring at him with that odd look in his eyes. "You sure you're okay?" he reaches forward, gently touching John's hand, mindful of the angry skin at his wrist.

"M'fine, Nik."

That clench deep in his guts is back again as he feels callused, warm skin against his own fingers.  He feels torn between pulling away or turning his hand over to trace the lines on Nik's palm.

"Thought you were going to dinner." he asks instead.

"I thought I should stay." Nik hesitates, and draws his hand back as though something has just occurred to him, "Although I am now realising perhaps you wanted to be alone?"

"No, it's...don't mind the company." he urges. He doesn't mind, truthfully, he just can't imagine he's good company right now. Still turning over Kate's question in his mind.

"Are you happy?" John finds himself asking suddenly. Nik's eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting it. Neither had John, truthfully, it had just spilled out of him. Nik seems to consider it for a while, his hand shifting so the skin brushes against John's.

"Yes, I would say so. I am on holiday, in a nice cabin with good company." he breathes deeply, staring up at the sky scattered with stars. "I am where I want to be."

The urge to turn his hand, to capture those broad fingers between his own, is strong, but there's still that little dissenting voice at the back of John's mind. That wonders if there's not something better, someone Nik would be better off spending time with than his sorry self.

"Not enjoying a good meal in town?" He can't help it, the need to check, to push, to try to remind Nik of the options he has.

"The food would be pleasant, yes. But I'd rather spend the time with you."

"You- Oh." he swallows, tongue suddenly feeling thick and useless in his mouth. "You came out here to spend time with me."

"That was in doubt?"

John doesn't know what to say, instead taking a long pull from his drink to try to loosen his tongue.

"That was in doubt." Nik repeats, but not a question this time. He leans forward, "Have I done something to upset you?"

"No, no!" John is quick to reassure him, that swooping feeling of being on the wrong foot is back with a vengeance. He scrambles to put it right, hating that he can hear the barest hint of hurt in Nik's voice. "Just...been thinking.  "I just - There are better things to spend your time on, right?"

"No." Nik response is sudden, John turning to look at him. There's a conviction in his eyes, a solid, unwavering truth glinting in the dark. John holds it, but still feels confusion drawing his eyebrows down.

"I mean, we're not young men anymore, Nik." he tries, trying to summon the words to get to the heart of what he means. That Nik deserves the world, deserves happiness, Nik deserves the sun.

"You're right. We don't have time for waiting." Nik says softly. John nods, and pulls his hands away.

"Kate was telling me to be happy. Thought maybe someone should tell you, that you deserve that too. More than what you've got now." he mumbles around the glass, staring out at the dark water.

"To have a happiness to share with someone?" Nik rumbles beside him.

"Yeah." he feels relieved, he's gotten that across at least. Even if the snare in his thoughts still won't unravel, it feels like he's at least made sure Nik can be happy. Even if it does feel like his stomach is going to drop out of him. "I wanna meet them first. Make sure they're worth your time."

"I do have someone in mind. " Nik murmurs. John turns to him, surprised. He recovers quickly, nudging him with an elbow before grunting at the sudden chafing on his skin., muttering angrily.   

"What are they like?" he asks, settling back and picking up his drink.

"Well, " Nik rubs at his chin. "They're very stubborn. Annoyingly so. But, it makes them dedicated to things they believe in."

"Suppose, still sounds like a pain in the bollocks."

Nik chuckles at that. "Yes, true. But i find it quite charming."

John shifts a bit. His gut clenching oddly. He clears his throat.  "S'at all about them then?"

"Sometimes they can miss the point." Nik sighs.

John laughs at that, "Reckon you need someone that can put 2 and 2 together."

Nik hums in agreement. "Hints don't work either."

John sets his glass down, the ice clinking with the motion. "They sound like a pillock." he says.  Nik barks out a laugh at that.

"Da. But I find it endearing, even if it is frustrating."

John rests his chin on his hand. It hurts, not just the sunburn, but hearing Nik talk about this person he hadn't known existed. That he's clearly interested in, wants more from. It feels like losing something, he realises. Something he isn't sure he realised how badly he wanted until it was already slipping away from him.

As much as the realisation leaves him reeling, there's a stronger truth beneath it, that he wouldn't let anything stand in the way of: Nik deserves to be happy.

"Why haven't you told 'em then?" he asks, looking at his feet where they're splayed out in front of them, slumping in his chair.

"I'm trying to." Nik says, also looking down at his feet.

Price nudges him, trying to lighten the mood. "Not gonna manage that wasting the night with me." he smiles.

Nik stares at him blankly, running his hand through his hair and sighing in irritation.

"You really are an idiot." he says simply. Before John can put together what he said to set him off, Nik tugs him forward by his collar and kisses him.

John had thought about kissing Nik before. In brief moments before his mind snapped shut and pushed the idea away as something he didn't deserve.

He'd thought it would be different from his past, that he'd have to learn. That it would feel strange with someone else taking the reins, that it would be aggressive and claiming.

But it's not. It's at odds with itself. The thumb stroking along his jaw is firm but gentle. The night air has further chilled around them, but Nik radiates heat. It makes John think of summer and the way light strikes off windows, golden and bright. It feels like the sun.

Nik's teeth scrape against his lip, he tastes like the whisky they'd been sharing, like smoke over water. He can feel the rumble deep in Nik's chest, the heavy weight of an arm around his waist and his head spinning from the lack of oxygen.

It leaves him reeling, unable to do much, unable to reciprocate as his mind runs over the conversation that led them to this point. The person Nik had been talking about. The sunlight shining bright in the middle of the night that Kate said felt like happiness.

Nik pulls away, resting his forehead against John's shoulder, while he's left struck dumb and blinking.

"Oh."

"You're very stupid sometimes." Nik says to his collarbone.

"Been told that a lot lately." John mumbles. His face is radiating heat, not just from the sunburn but the sudden flush that's overtaken him. His hands feel shaky as his heart thunders in his chest.

Nik just waits.

"I don't take hints." he says to the top of Nik's head.

"Nyet. But it is endearing."

John huffs, Nik's hair ruffling with the air. They sit there for a moment, Price trying to find a position that doesn't irritate his arms before Nik captures his hand and holds it instead, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"How long were you going to wait?" John asks, looking down at him. Nik rests his chin on his chest, slumped over him. It can't be comfortable but he doesn't think there's a force on Earth that could move Nik from where he is.

"As long as needed." he says, voice warm and eyes soft. John feels his cheeks heat again and looks off to the side, grumbling as he can feel Nik chuckle.  There feels like there's something Nik isn't saying. John thinks he knows though.

"Kate?" John guesses. Nik stills for a moment, nodding with a sigh.  

"Da. Threatened to castrate me if I didn't do something about it. She said you would not realise."

"That all she said?" John asks, unable to stop the smile.

"She may have also mentioned the cabin is cheaper than the therapy from seeing us dance around each other." he pauses, "And that if we didn't sort this out by the end of the week it was remote enough to hide the bodies."

"Lake is deep enough for that." John muses.

"Mhmm." Nik agrees, the vibrations settling into John's ribs. He glances down at where their hands are joined, and slides his thumb along the ridge of Nik's hand, before tugging it upward.

Nik looks up confused.

"C'mon. Can't be comfortable down there." John tugs on his hand again, and gets them to their feet, knees cracking. Nik pulls him, hand spanning over John's jaw as he kisses him again. This time, it feels like John has both feet on the ground. No missteps or stumbling, instead knowing the path to take.

"I like being able to do that now." Nik beams at him. John scoffs, but feels a boyish grin that refuses to shift from his face.

"Shut up, you."

-------

When they wake up the next morning, Kate is giving them a smug look above her coffee cup and Jen giggles somewhere in the kitchen.

Nik's hand is warm in his under the table and his eyes are bright whenever they catch each other's gaze.

He goes to help Jen in the kitchen with the dishes, Kate leans forward, tapping John on the hand.

"Are you happy, John?"

He steals a piece of bacon off her plate, winking at her as he chews.

"You were right." he gives her hand a squeeze, "It's like finding the sun."

~End~