#something was in the air!!!! (positive. complimentary. affectionate. the like)

[noah-price]

"and the jets are the greatest."

[hollyxqx]

lover, leaver  //  jimin  // 01

↪ PAIRING: Reader/Park Jimin (initally reader/Jungkook) ↪ SUMMARY: There's only so much cheating you can take from your boyfriend when he's on tour before you take matters in to your own hands. ↪ WORD COUNT: 8k 

↪ WARNINGS: lots of infidelity | substance (alcohol & drugs) abuse | heavy angst | filthy sex don't ever show my parents | characters are quite flawed (who isn't) | rockstar!JK | soft artist!jimin

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | FINAL

The girls come with the territory.

You'd always known it. In fact, at one point in time you might even be considered one of those girls. The scantily clad, desperate-but-trying-not-to-look-desperate groupies that wanted to be with the band in any way you could. Whether it was fucking or blowing or just being there to party with.

He was different though. Drummer's usually are. They aren't frontmen vying for the attention of the crowd. They're just in the back, keeping time. Jeon Jungkook was different even for a drummer.

The moment you laid eyes on his long hair and tattoo's your heart had skipped a beat. Sure you'd always liked that alternative look, rough around the edges but you'd never seen someone who had all that and was pretty as well. He took your breath away.

He had introduced himself to you first. He was charming but not greasy, funny but not obnoxious, gorgeous but not vain. Jungkook was deadly. That night you ended up in his hotel room, bent over the bed and getting fucked into next week.

What surprised you about Jungkook was at the end of your session he'd asked for your phone number. What had surprised you even more was that he had actually contacted you afterwards. You weren't just one and done to him.

He made you feel special. Texting turned to calling and facetiming, much quicker than you'd like to admit. It was just so natural with him, it was hard not to fall in to that pattern.

It was easy to feel like you were special to him from then on.

Jungkook lived in the same city as you. Whenever he wasn't touring he was spending time at your place or you at his. It didn't take long for the word relationship to pop up. Again, Jungkook took you aback when he was the one who suggested it. Young rockstar's don't usually want to be tied down. But you were special. It was different. So you agreed.

Blinded by love and adoration you didn't realise how wrong you were. It was naïve to assume that the girls vanished as soon as you came into his life, but you did anyway. It was easy in the beginning to look at him and his world with rose coloured glasses.

But time moved on, and slowly your vision cleared. You saw things for how they were, not how you wanted them to be. The first time it happened it knocked you for six. A pair of underwear that was definitely not yours in Jungkook's laundry. It clicked for you then, you knew he was doing what you feared.

You didn't confront him. Confronting him meant the relationship would be over. You loved him. He loved you. So, instead you cried and you drank and you got over it so that when the second time you caught him it hurt less. When you saw photos or heard stories eventually you grew numb to it. This was just part of who he was.

What Jungkook didn't expect was you to find a shoulder to cry on for yourself.

***

"I'm home!" You call out into the apartment as you step inside, door clicking shut behind you. The heels you spent the last eight hours serving customers in get kicked off the second you can and you pull your hair out of the ponytail it's been stuck in.

"Baby in here!" Comes Jungkook's voice through the air. You're unbuttoning your blouse as you walk to where the sound came from. You're almost to the buttons by your bra when your eyes land on Jungkook and Jimin lounging on the sofa. Your hands immediately cease their movements.

"H-hey guys." You stammer. Jimin's eyes rake over you and you fight every urge to blush. It doesn't matter how many times he looks at you, it always makes your heart race. Whether it's guilt or something more, you don't know.

"Come sit," Jungkook pats the seat next to him. "I missed you."

You walk round to him and he tugs you down beside him so you're half perched in his lap. You avoid Jimin's eyes.

"What have you guys been up to?" You ask, trying to keep a sense of normalcy in your voice. You hadn't expected Jimin to be here and were determined not to let it throw you.

"Nothing really," Jungkook sighs, arms snaking around your waist. "Drinking mostly."

"You know how bored Kook gets when he's not on tour." Jimin adds. You finally dare to look at him. His hard gaze is trained on you, something unreadable behind his eyes.

"I've been back 48 hours and I'm already bored." Jungkook laughs. "Quit your job y/n so you can spend all day with me." He jokes, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. It makes you stiffen. You hate being affectionate in front of Jimin. Your side piece.

"Then what would I do when you're on tour?" You counter. He laughs against your skin before placing a kiss on your jaw.

"Jimin can babysit you." Jungkook says, eyes creasing as he smiles. "Can't you Jimminie?"

"Anything for y/n." Jimin says, sounding far too serious for your liking. You cough awkwardly.

"I'm a big girl, don't worry Jimin." You say as you shift a little further away from Jungkook, trying to discourage anymore PDA. "Have you guys eaten yet?"

"No, not yet. The boys are coming over later so I figured we'd just order in." Jungkook tells you.

By boys you know Jungkook means the rest of the band. They're not bad people per se, but something about the fact that they know your boyfriend cheats on you regularly irks you. You feel a twinge of embarrassment every time you see them. Jimin is the only one of Jungkook's friends that you truly like.

Probably because he's not in a band of any sort.

"Okay," You hum. "I'm going to eat now though, I'm starving. Plus I gotta study."

You peel yourself off Jungkook's lap and he whines trying to pull you back. "No, I'm not done with you." He flashes you a devilish smirk and you flush, knowing Jimin is right there.

"Jungkook." You warn but he just laughs. Once again you avoid Jimin's gaze as you mutter, "I'm going to make food."

***

You can hear the sound of rowdy boys drinking all the way from your room. Namjoon, the singer of Jungkook's band, is laughing at something and his voice is louder than the rest. You audibly sigh knowing you have to go out there. Your mouth is so dry, you're dying for some water.

In the hours that have passed since you arrived home you've showered and changed into a band shirt of your boyfriends (coincidentally one of his actual band) and a pair his shorts. Normally you'd skip the shorts but you really didn't feel like being half naked in close proximity to people you aren't too familiar with.

The living room and kitchen are open plan so you try not to look at everyone as you walk by. They're drunk and loud so you slip by unnoticed easily.

You reach for your favourite glass - the one Jimin brought you back from Jeju - and fill it up with water. Jimin took that trip for work, way back when you first started...whatever it is you do with him. The simple gesture that he would think of you when he was away touched you, since you certainly knew Jungkook didn't.

"Hey."

A deep voice comes lowly from the archway entrance of the kitchen. It's Jimin. He crosses the kitchen to the bin, tossing away his empty beer bottle.

"Hi."

He lingers for a moment, thick tension hanging in the air between you. Your eyes flicker over the breakfast bar to see if any of the boys in the living room are watching. They aren't.

"28 days." Jimin says. You frown, unsure of what he's talking about and wonder how much he's had to drink already. "Until Kook goes on tour again. 28 days."

Jimin and you have a sort of unwritten agreement that you only fool around when Jungkook's away. Deep down you know it's an immoral way to justify your cheating but some part of you feels vindicated because you know Jungkook's misbehaving too.

"You're keeping count?" You blush.

"Of course." He takes a step closer, a hand going to your hip as if he's holding you in place. You gulp nervously. "It's weird hanging out with you and not being able to touch you like I want."

"Jimin," You say in a warning tone. "Don't be reckless."

He squeezes your hip before dropping his hand, but still he stands just as close to you. "Sorry," He mutters. "I've been drinking."

"It's ok."

"You're so pretty with no makeup on." He says, practically gazing at your face. Jimin is always so sweet and so complimentary to you as opposed to your boyfriend. You suspect Jungkook is so used to being overwhelmed with female attention that he feels as though he doesn't have to work for it. Jimin is different.

"Thank you." You say shyly.

"I have an idea for when he goes. Something we - "

Jimin's cut off by Jungkook stumbling into the kitchen. He has a sloppy grin on and instantly you can tell that not only is he drunk, he's wasted. "Baby," He slurs a little, staggering towards you. He's too drunk to notice you and Jimin standing so close. "Are you joining us?"

Jimin's eyes flicker over to his friend as he's forced to take a step back, Jungkook practically throwing himself on you, arms sliding around your hips.

"No, I don't want to intrude." You say looking at Jimin the whole time. "I was just having a water break."

"You're not intruding." He grins lazily at you. "I just got back from tour, daddy wants his baby girl."

The blush that creeps on your face is positively scarlet. "Jungkook, Jimin is right there." You shove him off you, mortified. Now Jimin knows you call his friend daddy in the bedroom.

"Oh, I didn't see you." Jungkook garbles, unaffected by the revelation. You don't miss the grimace that flickers on Jimin's face.

"That's ok," He mutters. "I'll leave daddy and baby girl to it."

Jungkook misses the words, distracted by the alcohol but you don't. Jimin leaves the kitchen and you never get to hear the end of whatever idea he had for you.

***

The next morning you awake to soft kisses on your neck and a hand sliding up your shirt, ghosting across your bare skin. "Mmm, Kook." You murmur, leaning into his touch. "You're eager."

"I just spent weeks without you, of course I'm eager for sex." He mumbles against your skin, mouth moving upwards to your jaw. You try not to think about the fact that he just lied easily to you. You knew there must have been multiple girls while he was away. You push that thought down as you turn in his arms, catching your lips with his.

"We had sex yesterday." You laugh against his lips as he slots himself between your legs.

"Don't act like you're shocked." Jungkook says, caging you in his arms, looking down at you with a smile. "You know what my sex drive is like."

You definitely do. It's why he can't seem to keep his hands to himself when he's away.

"Are the guys still here?" You say softly as he starts to remove your clothes.

"Yeah, everyone is either passed out on the sofa or in the spare room." He sits up to whip his shirt off his head.

"I don't want to do this if they're here." You whine. Really, you don't want to do this is Jimin is here.

"What?" Jungkook is taken aback. "Why?!"

"I don't want them to hear."

"Then be quiet." He smirks. You know that look. He's taking it as a challenge.

"Jungkook."

"Why are you being like this?" He frowns.

"It's just yesterday you kept making comments in front of Jimin. It was mortifying."

"So?" Jungkook scoffs. "Jimin's a grown adult. He knows what sex is."

"Yeah, but still. Your friends don't need to know details."

"Trust me," He smiles slyly. "They know details."

You huff and push your shirt that he'd managed to work up down. "You're an asshole." You try to get up but he catches your wrists, pinning you down. You roll your eyes, hating how competitive and childish your boyfriend can be. "Let me up."

"No."

"You're only justifying my asshole comment."

He presses his lips to yours, delicately. "I'm sorry baby girl."

"I'm still mad. You shouldn't tell your friends stuff about me like that."

His smile is infuriating. "Babe, you do realise it's a form of bragging right?"

"Oh my god." You try to cover your face but his grip on your wrists only tightens.

"I won't do it anymore if it makes you embarrassed. Sorry" He says, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead before letting go and rolling off of you. His sweatpants hang low on his hips as he walks towards your ensuite. You can't help but admire the tattoos on his back.

"Where are you going?" You call out from the bed.

He grins wickedly over his shoulder. "Going to jerk off in the shower."

***

Namjoon's recently joined Jungkook in the cuffed club. It's a running joke between the band whenever one of the boys get's a girlfriend. In the two years you've been with Jungkook you've seen girls come and go but never one as much as you liked as Hyerin.

Hyerin was down to earth, funny and sharp as a whip. She put Namjoon in his place and he needed a girl like that. Not to mention she was pretty. You had grown closer to her over the three months you'd known her. Which is why it was no surprise when she corners you at a BBQ Yoongi is throwing.

Everyone is outside in Yoongi's yard. The boys are playing some kind of game that looks like it should be football but even you can tell with your untrained eye that there is a lot of cheating going on. Jimin is not here.

"Y/N?" Hyerin's voice draws your attention to her, sat next to you also watching the spectacle. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." You smile.

"How do you and Jungkook cope with the touring? I'm struggling." She admits, looking down at her drink. You swallow dryly because your coping mechanism isn't exactly healthy.

"It's not easy." You sigh. "But when you love someone it's worth the struggle." Your eyes land on Jungkook playing keep up with the ball, smiling like a child.

"It is a fucking struggle alright."

"You're telling me."

"Is it easier after you've been dating for as long as you and Jungkook have?" She asks with some trepidation. You've never really discussed your relationship so in-depth with her.

"Honestly? No." You reply and she looks slightly crestfallen at your answer. "You just learn to deal with it."

"I thought you might say that." Hyerin's eyes flick over to the boys and you know she's watching Namjoon. "Thanks for being honest with me."

"Anytime. We girls gotta stick together." You joke.

"Amen."

The football gets kicked wayward by Yoongi and before you can blink Jungkook is jogging after it. He's the quickest after all. He runs past you and Hyerin to collect it. On his way back he stops to kiss your check affectionately before joining his friends.

"You two are so cute." Hyerin giggles. "He loves you a lot."

Your stomach twists. You often go back and forth on the fact whether he really truly does.

"I'm lucky."

"Can I ask you something else?" Hyerin says after a long pause. Her tone is different now, a hint of nerves. You nod. "How do you deal with all the women who throw themselves at them?"

There it was. It was only a matter of time before this topic came up.

"Babe you can't think about that stuff. It'll only drive you crazy." You mutter, afraid to say too much.

"Do you remember the show we went to in Seoul?" She asks and you recall the last home show they played. "A girl literally offered him a blow job in front of me. When he said he had a girlfriend she just went 'so?'. So." Hyerin scoffs.

"God knows what Jungkook gets offered." You agree.

"Namjoonie wouldn't do anything, I know, but it still makes me feel weird." She sounds so sure, like you were once. Part of you wants to tell her what you realised long ago, maybe save the nice girl some heartache.

"Don't think about it." You remind her. "I don't."

***

When Jimin appears at your work it takes you by surprise. You have no intended plans with each other so to see his fluffy blonde head walk towards you, weaving in and out of the tables you watch curiously. He's wearing a loose fitting black button up that's tucked into black jeans and you can't help but admire how good he looks.

"Hey."

You were polishing cutlery and your froze. "Hi Jimin. What brings you here?"

"Jungkook asked if I could give you a lift home," He explains. "He's drunk, so he can't."

"Ah." Jungkook was supposed to be driving you home tonight. He had promised but apparently decided to get drunk instead. It was like this whenever he had too much free time. However, lately it was becoming more and more frequent. "Thank you."

Jimin shrugs. "I really don't mind."

"I finish in 15. Are you ok to wait?"

"Course."

"Have a seat at the bar, I'll get someone to get you a coke." You smile, knowing it's his favourite soda. Jimin's mouth turns up at the corners ever so slightly as he does as you suggest. You whisper to a coworker to get him a drink on the house as you return to the tables you're waiting on.

Your shift ends and you head to the staff area to grab your personal belongings. When you return Jimin's playing on his phone and looks rather bored.

"Let's go." He looks up at your voice and slips his phone into his pocket.

"Let's go." He repeats.

Jimin walks you to his car, opening the passenger door for you, ever the gentleman. You thank him as you slip inside, unable to take your eyes off him as he walks around to the driver's door. Sometimes you wonder what life would be like if you met him first.

Initially the drive is silent, but it's a comfortable one. You are the one to break it. "How bad is he?" You ask referring to Jungkook.

Jimin sighs. "Namjoon is at your place." You knew what that meant. Namjoon was an enabler for Jungkook, the two of them were like big kids, egging each other on. "When I left they were seeing who could throw a knife into the door."

"Oh my god." You groan.

"Yeah." Jimin agrees.

"He's drinking so much these days." You say quietly. Jimin is one of the few people you feel comfortable opening up to about Jungkook.

"I know. Namjoon says it's even worse when they're on tour."

You dread to think what he gets up to when he's drunk and unsupervised. You just hum in acknowledgement to Jimin. It's not long before you reach the apartment you and Jungkook share. Jimin stops the car.

"Are you coming in?" You ask, almost hopefully. You don't want to deal with two drunk idiots alone.

"No." He says quietly. "I've had enough of them. Good luck."

"Thanks." You say sarcastically. You move to get out but Jimin grabs your hand, in one swift moment his lips are on yours. It's been a long time since you kissed and it feels welcome, familiar.

"Sorry." He breaths, pulling away. "I just really wanted to do that."

"It was nice." You can't help but admit. Jimin leans in again, this time the kiss is deeper, tongue invading your mouth. His hand cups the side of your face, thumb rubbing your cheek affectionately. It's soft and sweet, just like Jimin.

"6 days." He says against your mouth.

You reluctantly separate, feeling a little flushed as you exit the car. Jungkook would be too drunk to notice anyway.

***

The night before Jungkook leaves for tour he's insatiable. The entire evening he doesn't leave you alone, pawing at you while you make your ritual dinner that you share before he leaves. He ends up fucking you in the kitchen and the meat burns.

"I love you." He murmurs, still inside you. Your eyes bore into each other and for one moment, it looks like he, genuinely, undoubtedly means it.

"I love you." You whisper back. He pulls out of you and laughs when some of his cum lands on the kitchen floor.

"God that's unsanitary."

***

Jungkook is barely gone 20 minutes before your phone is buzzing, Jimin's name appearing on screen. You don't answer it as your busy getting ready for work. He calls three times.

At work you're unable to check your phone for a long period of time and when you finally do you're not surprised to see more notifications from Jimin. Jungkook also sends you a selfie and a very unflattering photo of Namjoon sleeping with a silly filter on him that gives him monkey ears. You chuckle.

If there was one thing you could count on Jungkook for it was to find the humour in almost any situation. The guilt starts to rise up in your throat like bile and you try your best to repress the ugly emotion.

 from: park jimin  what time do you finish tonight? want to come over??

You're not sure when exactly it happened but this affair with Jimin evolved from clandestine stolen moments when you were upset about Jungkook to just waiting for him to leave so you could finally be together. Part of you suspects   that if Jimin didn't practically worship you in a way Jungkook didn't this fling would be long over.

It doesn't take you long to arrive at his place after your shift. He greets you at the door with a kiss on the cheek and the smell of something delicious floods your senses.

"What's that?" You ask as he helps you out of your jacket. "It smells amazing."

"I made you carbonara." Jimin smiles. "Come."

You follow him to the kitchen where the set up makes your heart ache. There's two bowls of carbonara, two glasses, the lights are dimmed and he's even lit a few candles. "Jimin," You whine. "You did all this for me?"

"Thought you might appreciate it after a long day." He says bashfully.

"You're sweet. No one's ever cooked for me before."

"Jungkook's never...?" He trailed off.

"Nope."

"Well I'm glad I could be the first one to." He smiles again. "Sit, lets eat."

The meal is wonderful, Jimin is a good cook, something you discover for the first time that night. You don't talk much while you eat but you don't need to, occasionally sharing glances in the candlelight. His soft features somehow more delicate in the low light.

Jimin cleans up both of your plates before whisking you away to the living room, entwining his fingers with yours as he walks. He throws himself backwards on the sofa with a grin, pulling you down on top of him. You can feel him smile as he kisses you.

Wandering hands slide up the backside of your skirt to squeeze your ass and push your hips into his very obvious erection, surprised he's hard already. "Really?" You tease, laughing a little against his mouth. "You're like a teenager."

"I've had a semi the entire night." He laughs. "Can't help it. Kept thinking about having you like this."

His lips locks with yours again as he starts to unbutton your blouse and slip it off your shoulders. When he feels you tug at his t-shirt he briefly sits up to pull it over his head. You run your hands up his chest, marvelling at the taught abs and unmarked skin. You were so used to Jungkook's tattoo's and Jimin had none.

He takes your hands in his before flipping the two of you over, now you're the one on your back and he can make quick work of your skirt, leaving you in nothing but your black pantyhose. "You look so sexy like this." Jimin murmurs, eyes raking your form as a hand trails dangerously up and down your inner thigh.

"This isn't even real lingerie. Imagine me in that." You smirk.

"Believe me I do." He says, eyes never leaving your body. "Would you do that for me one day?"

"You'd want that?" You're surprised, no one has ever asked you for anything like that before. Jungkook certainly hasn't.

"Mmhmm." His voice his thick with desire and you feel a rush of arousal through your entire body. Sure Jungkook enjoys having sex with you but Jimin wants you.

"I'll remember that." You tell him.

He doesn't say anything else, instead he leans down to trail kisses up your bare stomach up to your breasts, fingertips ghosting over your clothed cunt. You're impatient - always more so than him - and you slip your bra off, nipples hardening when they're exposed. Jimin is quick to latch his mouth to them and you moan when he presses harder against your core.

"I wish I could mark you all over." He hums against your skin. You don't tell him but a sick part of you wishes he could too, so you could return to you boyfriend and say two can play at your game.

You don't want to wait anymore, you fumble with the button on his slacks eager to get them down his hips. He pauses for a moment to strip completely naked and then settles between your legs, throwing a leg over each shoulder. "Jimin," You whimper when he noses you over your stockings.

"I wanna rip these off you." He whispers darkly. "Can I?"

You should say no, but the idea of him eating you out while you've got them on turns you on more than you want to admit. So you nod, chewing your bottom lip in anticipation.

Jimin uses both hands to tear a hole in the material leaving your cunt exposed to him. He pushes your panties underneath to the side before his tongue slides between your wet folds, tongue caressing the swollen bud. He's slow and gentle, as if he has all the time in the world. "Jimin," You sigh. "Feels good."

A finger glides into your entrance and you try to push back on it, desperate for more. "More please." You whine. "Please Jimminie."

Your eyes lock for a moment as he pushes another finger into your slick hole. You can't help but buck against him as he curls the digits, knowing exactly how you like to be touched. His tongue moves faster and all that can be heard in the room is you moaning Jimin's name. Your hips have a mind of their own against his tongue, working in tandem circles with his mouth.

Just when you're about to cum, he pulls away and you let out a strangled cry that makes him laugh. "You're evil!"

"I just want to make you cum a different way." He smirks. He arranges your bodies so you're straddling him on the couch.

"You really want me to leave these on?" You refer to the stockings. Jimin runs his hands up your thighs giving you a throaty yes. He positions you over his stiff cock and helps guide it into your wet entrance. You're so caught up in the moment you forget to use a condom. It's been a hard and fast rule for you. You gasp out loud. "Fuck."

"What?" Jimin looks at you with blissed out eyes. His cock twitches inside of you.

"Condom, Jimin. We forgot."

"It's too late now." He says with a buck of his hips and you choke on a moan. He's always begged you to go in raw.

"Ok." You sigh. "Don't cum in me though."

"Ugh," He groaned as you began to roll your hips against him. "Fine."

Jimin encourages you to lean in closer for a kiss unable to stop his hips gyrating against you. You press your body against his as you really start to bounce against him now, desperate for your end since he denied you. "Fuck, this feels good." You moan, head falling against his neck. Your bodies move in unison, nothing but breathy gasps exchanged between you.

"You need to cum, little butterfly." He says breathlessly, using the pet nickname he gave you the first day you met. It was summer and butterflies wouldn't stop landing on you. Jimin says he found it so cute. "Please, I'm so close."

His hand snakes round to your clit and that's all it takes to have you fall apart, cumming hard on his cock. You slowly ride him to a stop, panting. "Jimin," You sigh. "God."

"My turn." He says, jutting his hips upwards. You help him as best you can, given as fucked out as you are. A few thrusts later he's pulling out of you, cum spilling all over your panties and stockings. His head falls backwards against the couch, a loud moan of your name leaving his full lips.

You can't help but stare at him, knowing he looks as pleasured as you do. "You made a mess." You giggle, planting a kiss against his throat.

"I missed that." He says huskily.

***

"You're graduating soon, are you nervous?" Jimin hums into your hair as you lay wrapped up in his arms, having moved from the couch to his bed. You much prefer it in his room anyway, his sheets smell fresh with a touch of his cologne and it's nice.

"Yes and no." You answer truthfully. "Once I graduate then I'm going to be an official graphic designer. That means I have to go and get a real job."

He chuckles. "You'll be fine."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do." He says seriously. "You're talented and you work hard."

"You're too sweet." You say, secretly glad you can't see his face with your chest pressed against his back. If you look at Jimin when he's being like this you fall deeper into him and that's the last thing you need. It's like everything your relationship with Jungkook lacks Jimin makes up for.

"I'm not that sweet. I'm sleeping with my friend's girl. By definition that makes me an asshole."

"I thought Jungkook was your best friend?" You were so used to both of them referring to each other as such.

"Maybe not so much these days. He hasn't been acting like one." Jimin utters, somewhat bitterly.

"Sorry." You can't help but say quietly, feeling guilty.

"Not your fault." Is all Jimin says before kissing the top of your head. "Let's not talk about him. When he's away you're mine, I don't want to spoil it by discussing him."

You say nothing and a slightly awkward tension falls between the two of you.

***

Several days later you find your self in Boux Avenue, a high end lingerie store you sometimes pass on the walk home from work, browsing the skimpy garments all the while thinking of Jimin. You chew on your lip, indecisive, wondering what exactly he'd like to see you in. Although knowing him, anything you like he probably would too.

You take a few items to try on and head to the changing room. The first piece is a black lacy bra with matching suspenders and thigh highs. It's the first time you've ever wore something like this and the dim lighting in the changing room certainly makes it look flattering.

Feeling bold you snap a few photos in the mirror, posing as sultrily as you can. An idea comes to you. You select the best snap (ensuring your face is not in the frame) and you send it to Jimin. If he likes it, you'll buy it. Not even one minute later he replies.

from park jimin: holy fuck.   fukc fuck me you look so fuking hot

You can't help but laugh at the typo's. When you leave the store you've bought that set plus the same on in a dark red colour, hoping he'll like that one just as much.

***

"I have a surprise for you baby." Jungkook says over the phone and you can practically hear the shit eating grin on his face. You're not sure where he is tonight, all you know is it's a city in Belgium that you're not exactly sure how to pronounce. Due to the time difference it's night for him and day time for you.

"A surprise? For me?" You ask, taken a back. He's the spontaneous type but he's not usually so thoughtful.

"Two weeks and I'm flying you out to London."

"London?! Oh my god, Jungkook. Are you serious?" You exclaim.

"You can see the show and we have a day off after, it's perfect." He explains. You can hear a lot of noise in the background, the unmistakable sound of Namjoon yelling something about shots. They must be at some after party.

"I'll make sure I get the time off work." You say and you can't help but feel excited.

"I'm the best right?" Cocky as ever. You swallow thickly when you hear female voices in the background. No wonder he didn't want to face time you. He didn't want you to see what was going on.

"You're the best." You're voice suddenly a little quieter. Jungkook doesn't notice.

"I gotta go now baby," He says, shouting a little of the background noise. "I'll email you your ticket. Can't wait to see you."

Before you can reply he's hung up.

So you do what you always do when Jungkook hurts you. You text Jimin.

***

The lingerie you're wearing Jimin hasn't seen before. You've opted for the dark red set and it contrasts nicely with your skin tone. However, you're unsure as to what exactly to wear on top of it. You rifle through your wardrobe trying not to get too frustrated when a filthy idea occurs to you.

You reach for your large faux fur coat that reaches your knees. Maybe the best thing to wear over it would be nothing. You're excited imagining the look on Jimin's face when he realises that you did all this for him.

By the time you've reached his place you're already turned on and wet at the idea of what is about to transpire. Three sharp knocks against his front door has him swinging it open for you in no time. He doesn't even have time to greet you before you attack him with your lips, walking him backwards inside his apartment so you can close the door.

You push him against the wall in his hallway as you pull away. "I have a surprise for you." You say seductively, Jimin's eyes are wide as he you slowly unbutton your coat, one button at a time revealing the secret underneath.

"Fuck," He mutters under his breath, pupils dilating as he takes in the sight before him. Once your coat is completely open his hands slide underneath it, roaming your skin hungrily. "You did this for me?"

"Just for you."

"You look so fucking good." He says his voice heavy with lust. You drop your coat to the floor in a heap making Jimin groan at the full sight of you. It's as if something overcomes him because he's growling as he picks you up, lips greedily devouring yours. You squeal in delight, wrapping your legs around his waist. He's taking you to his bedroom, stumbling down the hallway.

Jimin practically throws you on the bed and you bounce a little at the impact. His desire is clear and it only causes more heat in your core. He stands at the foot of the bed unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans. The look in his eyes is almost animalistic.

He shoves his pants down but not all the way, desperate to be inside of you. "Do I need a condom?" He asks. You should say no and go back to your rule but you've already broken it. One more time can't hurt.

"No." You say before you can overthink it.

"Fuck." He utters, crawling over you. His hands slide up your thighs parting them as he goes so your legs are spread for him. "Crotchless panties too? I'm going have a fucking heart attack."

"You like?" You smirk.

"Too much." He murmurs, kissing you again. You can feel his arousal against your soaking wet sex already and he's harder than you've ever felt before. Jimin doesn't waste any more time before he's gliding into you with a moan of your name. "I'm not going to last long." He says with a breathless laugh.

"Me too." You agree, one hand gripping him by the nape of his neck, clinging on to him as if your life depended on it. His face nuzzles in the crook of your neck as his hips snap into you, bliss overtaking your body. Even when he's ravenous for you like this he's still so careful, unwilling to hurt you.

"You're so beautiful." He mumbles. "So sexy." One hand falls to your hip where he snaps the band of your suspender against your skin. The sting it leaves only adds to the pleasure Jimin is giving you.

"Faster Jimin," You moan. "Go as hard as you want."

You're quivering beneath him as he begins to pound into that one sweet spot that never fails to make you come undone. He's grunting with every thrust and you know he's close too. Your eyes squeeze shut as you cum, embarrassingly quickly but you've been worked up since before you even arrived.

You're so lost in your own high that you don't realise he has cum as well. "Shit, I came inside of you."

Your eyes shoot open. "Jimin!"

"I'm sorry," He pants, out of breath. "I didn't mean to it just...happened."

You want to scold him but you don't, recalling the conversation you had with Jungkook earlier that night, a part of you feels vindicated knowing he probably did this with someone too.

"It's okay." You say softly, stroking some hair out of his face.

The two of you clean up but not before Jimin and you have two more rounds of incredible sex together. You end up staying the night, feeling satisfied and comforted. You're glad you have him.

***

When you land at Heathrow Jungkook doesn't greet you at the airport. Not that he promised to and you know he's busy but it still would have been nice. Once your phone is on you receive a text with the address for the hotel they're staying at from him and you make your way there.

You get your room key from the reception - Jungkook's made sure its just the two of you - and make your way there.  Jungkook is at sound check right now so you're alone. Your phone beeps and you grab it, hoping to hear from your boyfriend.

from: park jimin: hope you had a safe flight.

Jimin wasn't exactly thrilled when you told him you were leaving for London but it was still sweet of him to check in with you. You send him a generic thanks and a heart and leave it at that.

You shower and get yourself ready, knowing you don't have the luxury of time before you have to see Jungkook. Once you're ready you pull up your maps app and walk to the venue they're playing in, noting it's only a few meters from the hotel. You phone Jungkook when you're outside and he comes to collect you.

As soon as his eyes land on you he beams, pulling you in for a deep kiss. "Baby," He coos. "I missed ya."

"Me too." You reply. He laces your fingers together and you trail behind him as together you walk into the venue. The crew are bustling around, setting up the stage and the lighting for the gig later on. Jungkook tugs you to the green room where the band are enjoying some catering.

Yoongi is slumped on the sofa, earphones in. He gives you a wave of acknowledgement when you enter, as does Seokjin and Namjoon. Their manager Hoseok gives you a nod, since you're not as close with him. You join Jungkook on the other sofa, where he slips an arm around your shoulders.

"How was the flight?" He asks.

"Long." You yawn, leaning into him putting your head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of it.

"Worth it to see my handsome face?" He jokes.

"I'm just here to see Yoongi." You tease.

"Not going to lie, that hurt." Jungkook plays along.

"I can't wait to see you play tonight." You tell him and it's the truth. The only reason you even met him was because of how much you liked the music his band made.

"Yeah?" He gives you a cocky grin. "You're my number one fan huh?"

"Oh shut up," You laugh with an eyeroll. "I'm sure there are many girls out there who would have an issue with that statement."

Jungkook nods, knowing it's true.

The time flies by and before you know it you're standing at the side of the stage, watching Jungkook in awe as he plays the drums. He's always been so talented, it's undeniable. You barely even look at any of the other boys.

At one point you get curious and peer at the crowd. You've been to these shows before, you know the type of audience they attract. Mostly it's wannabe rock boys but there's always those desperate girls and you spot them straight away. There's two front row already and you notice their cleavage before you notice their faces, given that it's leaving little to the imagination.

The thought of them with Jungkook makes your stomach churn. You push that thought down and focus back on your boyfriend. He spots you, giving you a wink as he licks his lips.

When they've finished playing the first thing Jungkook does as he comes off stage is pull you into a sweaty embrace, knowing it would gross you out. You laugh as you shove him off you, following him back to the green room. "I'm going to have a shower. Then we're going out." He kisses your cheek before disappearing to the small bathroom that adjoins the room.

The rest of the boys follow suit, taking turns for the shower. You notice Jungkook is a little drunk already when he's back and dressed. You also notice Namjoon is nowhere to be found. "You want something to drink?" Jungkook asks as he's towel drying his hair.

"Sure." You reply.

"Oh fuck, we're out of beer." He says, peering into the small mini fridge in the room. "If you want, I'll finish getting ready and you can grab more beer from the room next door?"

"You offer me a beer then make me get my own?" You scoff playfully.

"Love you baby." He smiles cheekily. "It's the room with the red door."

You make your way out of the green room and look for the door as instructed. However, you curse Jungkook under your breath when there are two identical red doors next to the room you just exited. You take a guess, a 50% success rate could be in your favour. However your eyes land on something you did not expect.

Namjoon is perched on some boxes, half sitting half standing, while an unidentifiable girl is on her knees between his legs, clearly giving him an enthusiastic blowjob. His eyes are closed, and both hands are tangled in her hair.

"Namjoon," You shout. "What the fuck."

He opens his eyes but they grow wide when he notices it's you in the doorway. Clearly by the look in his eyes he's drunk or even high. "Shit." He splutters, shoving the girl off of him. You turn away, as he tucks himself back in his pants. "Sorry chick, you need to go." He tells her behind you. She complains, shoving past you as she storms out.

"What the fuck are you doing Namjoon? What about Hyerin?" You turn back around, and he's scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Are you going to tell her?" He asks. You sigh. "Please, please don't."

Something about witnessing exactly what you fear - albeit, Namjoon being the adulterer - causes rage and hurt to bubble within you. You know your anger is misplaced, you shouldn't be hurt, it should be Hyerin but you can't help it. You've imagined and feared Jungkook doing this exact same thing thousands of times.

Before you know it tears are welling in your eyes.

"Do you think I'm stupid Namjoon?" You whisper harshly as the tears fall. "You think I don't know what goes on when you guys go on tour? Do you really think I'm that dense?"

Namjoon remains in a guilty silence.

"I've known for years. None of you are exactly good at hiding it." You sniff. "You're an asshole."

"Please don't tell her."

"I'm not going to fucking tell her!" You shout.

"I'm sorry." He mutters.

"Save it for Hyerin."

You're both silent for a moment, Namjoon shifts uncomfortably. Fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it - Jungkook comes bounding into the room.

"Baby, did you get lost?" He asks. Quickly you wipe away the tears that have fallen, you don't want him to know you've been crying.

"No, I just ran into Namjoon." You try to smile at Jungkook but his face falls immediately.

"What's wrong? You're crying."

"Nothing."

"Namjoon," Jungkook turns to the older man. "Can you give us a second?"

"Gladly." He replies, practically running out the room. You silently pray he's not going after the girl you found him with. Jungkook shuts the door of the supply closet behind him and turns to you.

"What's wrong?" He repeated softly. His eyes were kind and he appeared as if he was genuinely concerned. He grips you comfortingly by the shoulders. You chew on your lip anxiously, debating being completely honest with him. Maybe it was because you were confronted by harsh reality, maybe because you were feeling emotional. You decide to be truthful.

"I caught Namjoon in here..." You take a deep breath. "Getting a fucking blowjob."

Jungkook doesn't react like you thought he would. Infact, he barely reacts at all. He blinks a few times and you can tell he's thinking carefully about what to say. "Namjoonie's...like that sometimes. Don't worry about it."

"He's an asshole for that, Kook."

"Yeah, but he's drunk and high. He's not thinking straight." Of course Jungkook would defend him. Jungkook's essentially defending himself. "It's only a blowjob. I don't understand why you're upset."

Only a blow job. You want to scream.

"You don't get it. It's fine." You mumble.

"Why does Namjoon getting a blowjob make you cry? You secretly in love with him?" Jungkook jokes, trying to ease some of the tension.

"Yeah, obviously." You scoff sarcastically. "I'm in love with Namjoon."

"I'll kill him." Jungkook once again plays along, using humour to deflect an awkward situation. "C'emre," He says gently, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you into a hug. "Forget about Namjoon. We're young, we're in love and we're in one of the coolest cities in the world. Let's have fun."

You mumble something in agreement, although that's the last thing in the world that seems appealing to you in that moment in time.

masterlist

[itsakpopalypse]

Ziu/Park Heejun Astrology : How He Loves

“hey, I just saw the post you did for VAV’s ace and i loved it 💕💕 could you do one for Ziu too please? thanks!!!”- @1330503339

A/N hi ! I am so glad you have been enjoying my posts !! I will be happy to and thank you for being patient with me !!

as always 18+below the cut!

The cutest boy? perhaps.

Okay ! first of all !! 

we have an estimated rising Libra

which means chaarrrrrming

well liked and fun loving, the cardinal of the air signs would draw you in

complimentary 

a little flirty

like a Libra will flirt with a damn broom for hahas

but also are soft inside and a bit restless

may need constant help because like… too many things to do so pls help this bb stay on track

Gemini sun and Libra moon

an airy fun boy!

Gemini’s are quick witted, full of life, but can avoid closer relationships (but his moon is Libra and venus is Cancer so he will actually seek deeper attachment than the typical Gemini sun)

loves affection and attention and loves showering others in it too,

have you seen him he needs to give and receive kisses 24/7 

love him he needs it

in relationships this triple air placement will translate to

before you are dating he is going to FLIRT

but in a cute and fun way

he’s all “oh my god. Have you seen the world’s most beautiful person?” 

you’re like… no who? 

he shows you his phone with the front facing camera on so you are looking at yourself

and you are like 😊😊😊😊😊😊😲😲😲

how cute

and he won’t be shy about physical affection

asks you strange questions while laying with his head on your lap

you’ll fall into this very close flirtationship of affectionate touches but no real words 

it will all feel so natural and part of him will forget he never officially asked you

oops

so you’ll be at a store or something and someone will ask you for your number, and his Cancer venus will sprout horns and immediately get jealous

he’ll be holding your hand anyway so he will point to them and just say 

“She’s taken.” and if you look at him surprised because you have seen him be just as affectionate with anyone else he’ll still insist he is your boyfriend

vehemently 

how dare someone try to snatch you up????

the nerve

anyway he is really sweet after that 

“I am, right? What was that guy thinking??”

he will stare at you and wait for you to agree. 

so you do, cause you like him too

and the biggest smile will be yours

 a happy baby oh my god he will be bouncing with joy for hours

everywhere you go he will have to announce he has arrived as a boyfriend

and if he does it to the members they’re like… you weren’t already dating?

anyway    he has his mercury in Gemini also so his communication is a bit haphazard

all over the place with his thoughts but they are all so interesting to listen to so you are constantly enraptured

great sense of humor

remember I said Cancer venus?

in the actual relationship he will be jealous of your time

if you spend too much with other people he will probably whine about it

but how can you even be mad at him? 

you can’t queue puppy eyes

very faithful

very attatched

like always

both physically and emotionally 

will 10/10 glomp you whenever you are around

what’s that? going to the kitchen?

glomp

watching a movie?

glomp 

low key a little shit

but in a soft way

Mars in Virgo 

thank god , some earth where it matters

this means his motivations are important to him and he is driven to complete whatever goals he has

His north node is also Virgo

so he is unselfish, thoughtful, probably dates float back and forth from spontaneous air sign driven and really well planned romantic shit

i feel like he’d be the boyfriendiest.

you know like just “good morning beautiful” texts and like

when you are sad he showers your entire face in kisses

and then tickles you until you are laughing 

pls he just wants you to smile

the softest

aims to please 

protec him awwwwwww

spicy time 

18+ below

i know 

on average I pin Cancer venus as dom dom

but I will be honest this boys entire chart is so full of air it’s not realistic for him

I do think the jealous side of Cancer venus stands, but I think it would present itself more as a time consuming and refusal to let others touch you more than him

not that he will be controlling or anything 

he just wants you to spend your time and energy on him

a needy boy

I think he isn’t particularly dom or sub

seems like the type to just be really into really romantic sex

I’m not saying he can’t get freaky 

I’m positive with how eager to please he is that he would try anything you asked once or twice and if you REALLY liked it he would start to be into it too

because it makes you happy and that’s what gets him off, pleasing you 

 how sweet

like if you want him to be rough he can, but I think he would in general revert to really romantic touches that linger on your body

body worship for surrre

he wants you to remember no past lover

he wants your body to react to him only

so he will learn every little thing that makes you tick and he will exploit it 

sorry guess you wanted to breathe or something nope not a chance

he’s going to make your head spin in pleasure and draw every reaction he can from you

probably likes it when he makes you loud enough for others to hear

cause you’re his and he wants everyone to know it

might get a lil kinky if you’re into it 

Libras are so very into beauty and he has enough Libra in his chart in important places so I am thinking 

you guys are kissing and touching 

his hands are spanning your body in all the right places

probably slips one down the front of your pants and cups you while  he leaves open mouthed kisses hot and wet against your neck

and you are throwing your head back in pleasure 

he likes to strip you first and stare, you will see him drink in every curve and thing you think is a flaw 

breathlessly he will let the words fall out of his mouth “you are so beautiful” 

and the awe is palpable

your heart swells with love

he will make you feel like a goddess

he seems like the energetic type probably has hella stamina

so yeah it’s romantic but it is also gonna leave your head spinning

good luck i hope you have some endurance

one round? no. 

he seems like the all day type of lover

some days you won’t leave the bedroom except to grab snacks and water

and he is spending  so much time making you feel loved but also making sure you cum and cum and cum you feel me?

I see him being into dirty talk, but like the kind where it’s 

“do you like that?”

“how do you feel with me inside you ?”

“shit you’re so tight, how am I even supposed to fit?” while he’s fingering you or eating you

speaking of

he seems like an oral KING

he is so eager to make you feel good that I feel like.. 

he probably would spend an hour or more down there

accidentally overstimulating you because “You taste so good.” and “I love watching you fall apart for me.”

aftercare is probably mostly cuddles

maybe cockwarming? like not intentionally, just that after that last round you are both completely drained, and you were on top and he just let you collapse on him 

and you fell asleep like that but he didn’t have the heart to move you 

listen that is hot and soft omg

on the whole he is an exuberant and passionate  lover who wants to make you so happy that you are ruined for all other partners,

[crapyouknowme]

Noir

Drabble: srodulv is now following you. Or the story where Lucas realizes whose IG page he had just come across.

Notes: I mean, come on! Lucas posts on IG stories like he doesn’t know what it means to be away from neither his phone nor the app, so of course we needed this scene. 

Lucas stares at the screen, eyes dully focused on nothing in particular. In one scene, a thin paper is strung on the wall, his curiosity piquing as he notices the casting of an easel, far-off in the distance, not whatsoever relevant to what was being shown.

It’s a re-run episode of the Bureau and from what he remembers, this was the scene where Malotru, the dude with the penchant for watching paint dry, somewhat trying, failing miserably, to convince his lieutenant on a co-op he wants to join in on.

It’s just a set-piece yet it does nothing but unnerve him. Because somehow, despite the canvas being shoved behind a dresser, he’s able to take notice of it, as if the white was not a splotch but consumed the entirety of the screen.

He doesn’t dwell on it for long because his phone buzzes, which happens to be plugged into the charger that is plugged into an outlet, which is on the opposite side of where he has found himself tucked under. Lucas kicks his feet in an attempt to extend one of his leg to thumb the corner of his cell.

He knows it’s counterproductive because there was no way in hell he could even get the sole of his foot to kick it towards him, rather far, way farther away.

When it ends up dropping onto the floor, a resounding thump drowning the not-so-silent room, he pushes off of the sofa and goes to retrieve it.

Lucas’ bends stealthily, only to tilt his head. Mika grits bitterly under his breath as he appears from the bathroom, makes his way past Lucas before halting.

“Lucas, tell me. Do I look like what Vincent Cassel would if he was thirty-two years younger and drank less?”

He fists his phone into his palm, blinks as he processes what exactly he was being asked and more particularly on what to expect from how he answered.

“Not in this lifetime.” He settles for, as he pulls the blanket over his head in an attempt to avoid whatever point Mika thinks he was going to make.

It’s a little after ten. The couch has become a tenth less uncomfortable since the last time he had inhabited it. He’s had a sandwich, wheat bread, ham and butter-the only three things needed to make anything delicious, really.

He’s pried the window open, let’s the cool, heavy air settle, the kind that holds the promise of a rainstorm.

Lucas manages to avoid Mika’s thigh shoving unwittingly into his hip, scooches back hastily as Mika presses, instead, up against his shoulder, tugging his cover down. “Lucas, this is a case of mistaken identity.”

“M-what?” He flips through the channels, pressing on the button until there’s not an inkling of white to be seen. He’s gone through at least twenty before he switches the T.V off, in vain.

Lucas has a feeling, though, that white would be a color he’d grow to dislike.

Just because.

“Maybe he just has the dexterity of a toad.”

From what he’s gathered, there’s a guy. A guy who DMs Mika after following him on snapchat, asks him whether he looks like someone, behaves surprised when told no and does just enough to have Mika going on a spirited tirade on the merits of making social media accounts private.

Mika gets to his feet, a wayward look appearing on his face. He jabs a pointed finger at Lucas, mutters with indignation: “Do you plan on having the borough to the hamlet following you on Instagram?”

Lucas chortles at what’s being insinuated.

“What’s wrong with that?” He’s aware of the fact that some-how he’s accumulated a significant audience in the past couple of months, but what can he say. It’s endearing. They’re following him for a reason, a reason unbeknownst to him, but present nevertheless. “It’s the eyes.” He jokes, because Mika’s irked and pupils are supposedly Mika’s characteristic trait. He knows he’s pressing a nerve when he’s met with a glare.

Lucas raises his hands over his chest, apologetic. “I’m kidding.” He grins, kicking his feet on top of the table.

Mika resumes to snapping bitterly under his breath, brisk as he makes his way back to his room. A room, with four walls, and a door. A door that could be closed and opened whenever he wants it to be.

He misses having a room. He misses having the choice to sprawl his clothes on the floor, kicking his shoes into a corner and fixating on books that seem haphazard but, in his mind, they were placed in schematic.

Lucas rubs at his temple as he slips his hand back under the duvet. He curls inward. There’s warmth that emanates from his fetal position. It’s comforting and reminiscent of a bed he’s no longer sleeping on.

He lowers his gaze when a green bar appears on his screen.

Arthur: I think if we’re getting free food, I’m in.

Lucas swipes his thumb. He opens their group chat, reads with promptness, to get a gist of the messages he’s somehow missed and have accumulated to the point that there’s a plan in unison for them all to meet at the foyer, tomorrow, and work on that fucking mural.

Lucas: Yeah, no.

Basille: Daphne’s going to really have a good impression of me. Okay, fresco, 8 hands, an hour, free lunch.

Yann: What part of I’m paying for my own meal did you interpret as free-of-charge?

Basille: Yeah, complimentary food. Can’t get any better.

Arthur: I have no ideas. So, I wanted to make that clear. None, whatsoever.

Basille: I’ll be on her good side, right? Every time she looks at that wall, she’ll know that I had a part in it.

Basille: Luc, we’ll be walking together from 4th anyway so it’s okay. I’ll carry you there. You won’t have to use much of your stamina.

Lucas is aware of what they are doing. He’s thankful that there were them, who are trying to soften the blow of a moment that has him feeling wretched, shameful, angry—all at once. He appreciates their endeavors, albeit ridiculous, more than anyone.

A bar appears from the top of the screen, interrupting his thoughts.

srodulv is now following you.

It’s instinct, or an inherent roundabout way of Lucas, having been somewhat preoccupied, in extant, by the conversation he just had with Mika, to click on the notification. He’s re-routed to the app, an unfamiliar profile pops up.

He doesn’t scroll much, doesn’t have to, because he finds himself, breath abated, fingers halting, frozen in their spot, vision bleary—staring at a familiar sketchpad, at the caricature he’s seen a countless number of times, notices the date—it’s stamped 26.02.19.

Shit.

Lucas takes a deep, shaky breath. He lowers his gaze, curls his toes into the carpet, wants—no, needs to feel the ground because it ceases to exist as his head starts to spin. Lucas grits down on his jaw as he forces himself to be levelheaded.

He’s deliberate, conscious, alert and painstakingly awake, as he goes from one picture, to the next, to the next. There’s a glimpse of the racoon’s ears behind a brick wall. There’s Mike Walters and a scene from My Own Private Idaho. There are pelts of fucking raindrops, right after. There’s an idyllic excerpt from a book.

All of it seems too intentional, distinct, clear-cut.

Lucas stomachs his way through an obfuscated racoon, a video of that face of his, a clandestine painting (mostly rattled by how permeated the canvas was by something so noir), a wonky sketch of a keyboard—he doesn’t have to look at the date to know when it’s posted. It sears into his mind, that all of this, every. Single. Fucking. Post. Is. too. Deliberate. To. Be. a Goddamn. Coincidence.

It’s when he notices the cat. The cat and the racoon, affectionate, huddled, together—does he glance at the time-stamp: 03.01.19.

Weeks, it’s weeks before they’ve met.

He knows what he’s insinuating, what he’s convincing himself of.

Blithely, Lucas exits out. He grips at his phone, a little too tightly, the flesh of his palm becoming a ghostly white. He lets out a harsh, rugged, rough exhale, blinking in despondence to clear his mind of that fuckingcat.

He knows who that cat is. He also knows that it’s way before—

Lucas clamps down on his jaw, biting his tongue until a cascade of blood pools out from his gum.

What the actual fuck is this.

Lucas can’t help the way he goes tense. It’s not that he’s envious or angry or anything like that. He doesn’t, precisely, feel shitty. He just...

Okay, no, he feels kind of shitty. And weird. The whole situation is both shitty and weird, and Lucas doesn’t know how to make himself feel better about any of it. He hasn’t seen Eliott since that morning, although he’s mostly grateful for that, because it’s a glimpse. It’s all he needs, even though it’s all he’s getting.

But this-

This is all too telling without disclosing jack shit.

Lucas huffs, fingers arranged in a cursory manner over his screen as he types out: Drag me out of class. I’ll be a willing participant. He shoves the phone under the sofa, slams his face into the pillow as he nestles his neck in a position that isn’t too awkward.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, he decides on taking a nap. Sleep, he had foregone. But a nap, yeah that would help him become somewhat sane. Maybe even eliminate the moping, the fairly unreasonable amount of moping, he’s been displaying.

He jabs his forehead into the padding of the cushion, whispering to himself the lyrics to smells like teen spirit—over and over again—With the lights out, it’s less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us—just to erase the clout of susceptibility, the wistful hope rising from the solitude corners of his psyche—I feel stupid and contagious.Because there was no way in hell he was going to be stirred by this. Here we are now, entertain us. Screw, cats. Screw, Racoons. I’m worse at what I do best, and for this gift I feel blessed. Fuck that fresco. Fuck that white easel. Go to hell, Vincent Cassel.

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Story} Cruel

A continuation of Gentle.

This is more than I can stand.

Casa Al Mare was teeming with life, which to some might be a little ironic considering some of the occupants of the illustrious, infamous estate lived without a beating pulse beneath their flesh. The night air was filled with the sound of laughter and music, the scent of rich, exotic foods and as the stars twinkled merrily overhead in the indigo sky death seemed like the furthest thing from any of the attending guests’ minds.

Securing an invitation to a Frenzy event was cause for celebration whether the guest of honor were celebrity, government official, or simply another affluent member of the vampire clan’s golden circle. This event was to welcome the changing seasons, the shortening of days and the lengthening of brisk autumn evenings that promised shadows and the cover of night in which to do...whatever one might be so inclined to get up to. It was no secret, whether citizen or police official, that the Syndicate was not just a criminal organization but the criminal organization but they were also untouchable. Any foolish hand attempting to skim from their deep pockets found itself missing fingers and any nose stupid enough to stick itself in their business was suddenly absent a face. The Frenzy brood were thusly free to do as they pleased and what Monica, Head of the Family, pleased to do was entertain and spend her vast amount of riches on showing the rest of the population how the good life was meant to be lived. Did she enjoy socializing? Not particularly, but she enjoyed the envy and she enjoyed the clamor of the general population constantly attempting to find footing on one of her ultra-exclusive guest lists. Just recently she’d denied a certain blonde celebrity access to a party just to do it and the resulting singer’s decline in the affluent community had left Monica laughing so hard her sides ached. The power she wielded was nothing to scoff at, be it the might of her Syndicate or simply the flash of those fiery emerald eyes, able to stamp out another’s social life like a bug beneath her stunning silver heel.

“Another absolutely beautiful affair you’ve thrown, Miss Frenzy.”

Monica turned and offered a distracted but no less dazzling smile to someone whose name she didn’t care to remember but knew he frequented their guest list as often as was permitted--because this was not the first time he’d all but purred that sentence at her. Beautifully full lashes lifted to allow her to take in his appearance; passable, but she was not interested in decently good-looking. She wasn’t even looking to begin with, but that didn’t stop Mr. What’s-His-Name from trying his luck. Mistaking her eye contact with interest, the dark-haired male donned what Monica assumed he thought was a heart-stopping smile but it simply looked a little drunk, to her--crooked as the line that came spilling out next.

“And just where is your date tonight?” He glanced around as if for dramatic effect, reassuring himself that she was, in fact, alone. He turned back to her, smile still in place; just a little too pleased with his good fortune. “Don’t tell me that it’s my honor to escort the lovely Miss Frenzy around her own party.”

“It isn’t.” Monica punctuated her statement with a smile that knocked the wind out of her annoying party guest. “I can escort myself just fine.”

“Oh but you shouldn’t!” He stepped a little to the side to follow when she would have stepped around and left him standing there gaping like a fish on dry land. “The lady of the house needs a proper escort.”

“I have a proper escort.” Monica bit out curtly.

Another glance around the packed hall didn’t convince her persistent pursuer of anything and he turned back to her, puzzled. “Then where is he?"

None of your goddamn business would have been a decent enough answer, but his question gave Monica enough pause not to snap it between agitated fangs. Her escort was in her suite of rooms, sleeping, resting his love-bitten body because she was developing quite a taste for his candy apple sweet blood. Osamu Furuya had been her Consort a few months previous but now, now they were so much more. Monica had purchased his Consort contract outright and now he served her and her alone--and relished every moment of his ownership. He wore her Family crest, along with a picture of her, in a locket around his neck and he rarely, if ever, left the estate without her. Monica wouldn’t necessarily call him a pet--though she had once during sex and he’d seemed all too eager to latch onto the affectionate nickname--simply because what they shared seemed deeper than just physical intimacy. Osamu was her shadow; he was at her beck and call for more than just to satisfy the ache in her fangs and as time progressed, the older gentleman became more and more in need of her--her touch, her voice, her affections, anything she was willing to give him. He took from her just as greedily as she did from his veins and she was finding she didn’t mind; in fact, she was beginning to suspect he loved her and she...knew if he said it, she would say it back without hesitation. This had not been her intent when she procured him as her Consort but she didn’t mind what it had blossomed into and she knew Osamu had not a single objection.

“Perhaps you’ll meet him later.” Monica finally answered, this time stalking around this insignificant gnat of a guest with the air of finality and grace one would expect from a vampire of such standing.

The little man knew better than to push his luck and could only stare, openly pining, after the object of so many’s desire as she stalked deeper into her gilded party hall.

Up the beautiful, winding staircase and beyond two sets of locked doors, Monica’s pet stirred, relishing in the delicious lethargy that came from her feeding. Osamu was littered with bites and had never felt more contented and happy in his life. Blond lashes swept up, drinking in the dim light and the faintest din of party guests having the time of their lives. It helped clear the cotton candy cobwebs of sleep from his mind as he turned over onto his broad back, the lush sheets drawing slowly down his porcelain torso to expose sinewy muscle and more of Monica’s bruising bites. He specifically asked her never to heal her bites, only close them (after all, his blood was for her to enjoy and he was determined not to waste a single drop) and she obliged, leaving him to enjoy her possessive claim and he flaunted every single bite he had. The collars of his shirts were never buttoned, exposing raw, passionate bites along his throat and his sleeves were often times rolled up to expose his love-bitten wrists. He relished every title that came with her claim; if he was her plaything, her boy-toy (truthfully at his age that made him laugh, but he still didn’t object), her pet--he might be fondest of that one the most. It implied a certain amount of...wanton neediness on his behalf, and that was something he was fine, even proud, to display. If she wanted to collar him and lead him around on a leash he’d go obediently and with his head held high. Monica was a goddess, his Empress, and he was wrapped around her little finger in much the same way she wrapped her petite legs around his waist every night.

“Your party clothes, Mr. Furuya.”

The blond turned his head, dark eyes landing on a servant gesturing to the standing bureau, where a crisp white suit with blue accents was hanging with the utmost care.

“Is my Beloved already there?” Osamu’s deep voice was husky from sleep, but even with the quiet rumble there was a wealth of affection in his nickname for Monica and given it was used so often, the servant didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes, sir.” The servant folded his hands against his middle. “Would you like any assistance dressing?”

“No,” Osamu slowly lifted to a sitting position, the sheets falling to bunch against his lap, giving a shake of his blond head. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

The servant bowed respectfully and showed himself out, closing the double doors quietly as Osamu rose from the bed he shared with his Beloved. A momentary question swirled around like a lazy fly and he gave it passing thought; why hadn’t Monica woken him for the party? But the moment he questioned, he knew what her answer would be. It was the same every time she fed deeply, leaving him lethargic and with a lovesick smile on his face--

“You need to rest, baby, or I can’t feed again anytime soon.”

The very idea of not feeling her fangs pierce his pale flesh was enough to wipe the satisfied smile right off Osamu’s handsome face and he dismissed the buzzing thought with a slight shake of his head.

Given Osamu was already bare, dressing was blissfully quick; the more he woke up, the more he found himself missing Monica and desiring to be at her side. His suit was perfectly tailored, a specialty order from Monica to her twin no doubt, and Osamu’s smile was almost coy with affection as he straightened the collar of his sapphire button-up. Monica remarked often how much she liked him in white; given how light his features were it played up his angelic appearance but Osamu was always quick to argue Monica was the angel. There was no way she could possibly be real but if she was, then she had to have been crafted by loving, heavenly hands. Monica often tried to laugh off such affectionate words but he meant every single one he said. Even now, as he was admiring himself in the full-length mirror, the only thing he could focus on was what Monica would be wearing. The couple often wore complimentary clothes and if his accents were blue then her outfit must be in the same shade of sapphire and he lost himself to fantasizing, imagining swathes of expensive fabric hugging curves he worshiped day and night.

Long fingers deftly buttoned his sleeves as his eyes stared glassily, relishing the pull of lovebites that would take days to heal--unless Monica bit them back open and he desperately wanted her to. Who would have ever thought he would meet the love of his life Consorting? He certainly didn’t, but here she was, taking over every second of his every day and he had no desire to stop her.

If anything he somehow desired more.

The bedroom doors were opened for him as he approached on long legs and polished dress shoes, and Osamu gave a polite, grateful smile to the servant s he passed. This was the life of luxury, with an Empress on his arm, but Osamu would have lived anywhere with Monica, and he would have done anything necessary to keep her in the life she deserved--it was simply fortune that she was already eating with a silver spoon engraved in her name. His vampire had the world at her beck and call but selfishly he wanted her to think of him first, always. Already he was taking over many of the duties servants had provided for her, doing things like washing and pressing her expensive clothes, polishing her jewelry, brushing her hair--he wanted to be the one to provide for her, to give the world to her as she had done for him. Love does things to a man, changes them but what Osamu hadn’t been prepared for was the devoted way he followed her like he’d had no purpose in life before knowing her name. He was tall, broad shouldered and though lean was graced with muscle that kept him from being lanky; more jaguar than cheetah in his build he knew he could command attention if he wanted it but he never had, before. Consorting hadn’t meant a thing to him because there was no intimacy to it, for him; it was a job, something he was good at but the moment he’d laid eyes on Monica it was as if someone had thrown open the curtains and let the moonlight in. She sucked the air out of his lungs when she looked at him, eyes glittering like precious gemstones, ready to feed from his veins and the exchange of his life for hers was one he made as often as she desired it. She could bleed him dry and he would thank her with his dying breath.

Osamu’s thoughts were so often on Monica it didn’t surprise him that she was still at the forefront when he started to encounter party guests littering the outer halls. Now that he’d left his and Monica’s private suite of rooms there were well-dressed elites sprinkled around like accent pieces, discussing anything from the latest gossip to upcoming movies. Some gave him a passing glance or two as he went by, eyes drifting to the silver locket on display, resting against his chest. With the buttons of his dress shirt undone, the locket was resting against bare flesh and right beside a biting mark. There could be little doubt who Osamu was or who he was here for and the whispers were of awe and jealousy.

“That’s him? The lucky bastard Monica’s interested in?”

“No fucking way, do you have any idea how hard I’ve tried to get her to notice me?! I’ve been to every party she’s thrown the past two years!”

“...I’m so jealous, look at those bites. She’s got beautiful fangs, you can tell.”

“I can tell I’m going to be thinking about her fangs even more than I already was.”

Osamu’s smile lifted a little higher as he rounded the corner, pride straightening his spine all the more. Let them envy him, at least then they’d know to keep a respectful distance--

Osamu’s breath slammed from his lungs the instant he lifted his gaze, his heart turning to ice just to drop to the pit of his stomach. Across the packed hall, looking every inch the vision he knew her to be, was his Beloved--and someone who was entirely too close for comfort. She was in the middle of laughing, the melodious sound reaching him over the din of the party simply because he was always listening for her. Her fangs caught the room light, beckoned and enticed and the man standing next to her was staring so intently at her upturned face Osamu felt his fingers ball into fists. He didn’t consider himself a violent man and before Monica had never been jealous a day in his life but he was finding it was an ugly emotion; rage black as the night outside was welling up like a storm and where there had been ice in his veins now there was only heat, flames licking along his skin like bolts of lightning. He felt the color flood his cheeks, his angled jaw tightening as if on a screw hinge and it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack from the pressure.

...Who...the hell...was that?

Monica’s laughter quieted, and without taking his eyes off her he knew others around her were straining to chase the beautiful sound as it vanished. Monica was in a group, enchanting creature that she was of course she’d drawn a small crowd of her enamored guests and while that might not necessarily have bothered Osamu (at least, he would have simply walked over and greeted her, establishing his claim on her effortlessly) it was the way that man, that bastard was trying to monopolize her attention. Whether it was because he was a man or because Osamu knew how hard he always worked to keep Monica’s attention he recognized the moves for what they were; the bastard kept slight hold of her elbow to keep her at his side rather than drifting amongst the group, and his body language was open to her, facing her at all times as if to present his full attention.Osamu’s dark brown eyes were murky as the ocean moments before the tsunami lays waste to the beach and as he watched, the would-be suitor leaned in closer just to try and speak to Monica rather than engage the rest of the group. Osamu was a mere human man, he didn’t possess the abilities of his vampire and so the words were lost on him, but what wasn’t was the mere inches between her and him.

Monica could not, would not ever be blamed for who she was--a stunning vision, beauty incarnate, she was an angel among the unworthy and Osamu would never dream of placing blame upon her petite shoulders. No, his jealous rage had a target and that target was narrowing to a finely sharpened knife’s tip the longer this dragged on.

This had to stop.

He would put a stop to this.

She was his, same as he had been hers from the moment she’d laid those breath-taking eyes on him. He couldn’t lose her, not now.

“Unfair, huh?”

Osamu’s head snapped down, gaze landing on an obviously drunk brunette, whose flushed cheeks were more red than pink at this point. The glass in his hand sloshed as the shorter male gestured, obviously in Monica’s direction.

“She’s...fucking perfect, but what are we?” The male brought his hand to his chest, spilling the caramel colored liquid onto his shirt. “Human, that’s what we are. That’s why she wouldn’t give me the time of day earlier. Human. Not like Mr. Fangtastic Fucker over there.”

Osamu’s stormy gaze was riveted to the bastard in question and there they were, plain as day. Two gleaming fangs, a compliment to Monica’s even as the idea roiled Osamu’s stomach. The bastard was smiling as if showing them off, and Osamu wondered for a moment if he’d been foolish to smile at Monica without them. Was this what she wanted? It was what she deserved. She deserved someone powerful and strong, someone to compliment the tall, dark, and handsome that so often accompanied her species and Osamu looked like a ray of sunlight standing beside her. She was everything the night had to offer; her skin held the most delicious kiss of color that enraptured him every time he saw her laid bare. Her hair was dark enough to hold the stars from the sky and the secretive way her lips tilted in a smile when she kissed him reminded him of the same thrill he used to feel as a little boy, running down the darkened hallway for a sneaky midnight treat. She made him feel young and in love, and she made him feel powerful in his own way, that he could tempt her fangs to pierce deep and drink what he freely gave. He didn’t want to lose that, couldn’t lose her.

The very idea sent one single tear spilling over scarcely blinking eyes, splashing unnoticed on the front of Osamu’s sapphire shirt.

This was more than he could stand.

“Kennet, that’s just dumb.” Monica’s incredulous laughter masked the sharp sting of her very truthful statement. She meant every word, but this dim-witted guest just wasn’t getting it.

“Oh I’m very serious, Miss Frenzy.” Kennet replied easily, in a way he thought was incredibly charming. After all, the tone worked on all the other women he used it on.

“Oh I’m sure you are.” Was Monica’s effortlessly sarcastic tone, again sailing over the man’s head as she raised her crystal flute to her lips. The liqueur inside would do, but it just made her fangs ache for--”Osamu?”

The blond materialized as if out of thin air, standing tall and imposing in a way Monica had never seen before. His broad shoulders were squared and as he stepped forward he openly moved Kennet away from her--something she was immediately, immensely grateful for. The vampire made a somewhat startled, almost disgruntled noise but Osamu was not backing down and made no move to concede even politely. Monica knew her man, she knew he was a gentleman who was always extremely mindful of how he presented himself when she was on his arm but he was uncharacteristically stoic and intimidating. There was a hard line to his jaw, his eyes sharp enough to cut as he stared Kennet down. Osamu was taller, impressive for a human over a supernatural, and as Kennet stared back Osamu tilted his head up and stared down his nose at the vampire. There was no denying something was very wrong with Osamu and as he slid his arm around Monica’s waist, his grip was surprisingly tight, his fingers cinching around her hip to pull her beneath the hollow of his shoulder. Slowly, he dragged his gaze from Kennet to lower to her, his lips finding her forehead with affection that was a direct contrast to the anger radiating off his body in waves.

“Hello, Beloved. I’m so very sorry I’m so late.”

Monica cleared her throat, more affected by the rough, husky depth to Osamu’s voice than she wanted to be in front of others, but she leaned into his kiss all the same. “T-That’s all right, you’re here now.”

Osamu straightened up, eyes slashing back to Kennet as he spoke. “Yes. I am.”

Kennet looked between the lovers with a somewhat ill-masked look of disbelief. He’d heard Monica had a human lover but had simply assumed he could take her off the feeble mortal’s arm without much fuss. The way she fit beneath the man’s shoulder, the possessive grip he had on her--Kennet had been elbowed out the door into the cold without realizing he’d never been invited inside.

“...I don’t believe we’ve met.” Kennet’s tone was tight, no longer the easy-going charmer he thought he was. He extended his hand with a cock of his lips, not bothering to hide his disdain. “Kennet.”

Osamu, rather than shake Kennet’s hand, brought Monica’s hand up to the warmth of his mouth, but his eyes were on Kennet all the same. “Thank you for keeping my Beloved company while I was away, Kennet.”

Kennet lowered his hand, bristled but unable to do anything about it. He knew better than to attack the human; anyone causing a disruption at a Frenzy affair was made an example out of and by attacking Monica’s lover? He’d be strung up like tinsel on a Christmas tree. “...Not a problem.”

Monica looked up at Osamu, noting that his jaw was still tense and his posture was rigid. Her brow furrowed in concern and she turned, giving the group a dismissive but polite smile.

“Would you all excuse us?”

There were politely murmured replies but when Monica moved to step away from Osamu, to lead him to the hall, he made a noise deep in his chest and refused to release her. Instead, he took the lead and escorted her through the throngs of guests with his grip still ironclad around her waist.

Only once out in a side hall, quickly cleared of guests, did Osamu allow Monica out of his grasp--and that was only because she insisted, so she could face him and ask--

“What’s wrong?”

Osamu’s gaze was to the side, his posture still tense, poised, and Monica watched his marked throat work to swallow--but he failed to in the end.

“Osamu, what happened? Are you mad at me?”

“No!” Osamu turned to her so quickly it nearly startled her. The honesty on his face put her at ease almost immediately. “No,” he answered again, quieter and more like himself. “Never.”

“Then was it Kennet?” She was on the right path, she could see a vein pulse slightly in his throat at the mention of the other man. “What is it, what did he do?”

“Touch you.”

The quiet admission was not lost on her exceptional hearing but she asked him to repeat it all the same.

“He...touched you.” Osamu reached for her bare elbow, his calloused fingertips soft against the flesh. “He touched you and I...hate him for it.”

Confusion brought Monica’s brow together even as Osamu continued to lightly feather his touch over her skin, his eyes on her arm first, then trailing up to her shoulder, her throat, to her face and then he was moving down the beautiful curves of her body, his face such a mix of emotion she couldn’t read all of them at once.

“You look so beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that first.”

“That’s not...” Monica floundered, shaking her head. “Thank you, but what are you talking about, with Kennet? It was just a stupid conversation, I barely remember what he said.”

“It isn’t that.” Osamu’s fingers slid up, following the natural, breath-taking lines of her body to curve around her shoulder and then up to cup her throat, his thumb moving to her soft cheek. “I know you. Or, I like to think I do. It isn’t you who needs to apologize to me.”

“You...want Kennet to apologize to you?”

“Yes.” Osamu gripped Monica’s chin in a move so fluid he scarcely seemed the human he was. “I want him to apologize for touching you, when you belong to me.”

Monica, had she a pulse, would have felt her heart stammer at the heavy weight of truth in Osamu’s low tone.

“I won’t stand for him or anyone else putting their hands on you.” Osamu’s grip wasn’t bruising but it was as insistent as his words. “It is my blood that flows in your veins and that makes it my right to touch you. No one else.”

This was a side of Osamu Monica had never seen before. He was always so gentle and soft-spoken, he often reminded her of a house cat. He liked to cuddle, he all but purred under her attention, and she never once saw his teeth bared in aggression. But the man staring at her now was a tiger, all sharp teeth and with horrible, promising intent in his eyes. Monica knew the look in his eyes wasn’t for her, his touch was too gentle, his voice too soft. The look of malice, of raw hatred in his eyes was for Kennet. Osamu meant every word he’d said, and Monica knew then what she was feeling radiating off of him right alongside his rage.

Jealousy.

Monica didn’t trust herself to speak, her body was responding way too much to his actions and words, but the trembling tips of her fingers reached for him and when she cupped his face he let out an almost pained noise, some of the tension seeping out of him almost immediately. It gave her a little more nerve.

“You don’t...need to be jealous of him or anyone else.” Monica watched Osamu turn, pressing kisses to her palm that she felt clear down to her toes.

“I’m yours. Every fiber of my being, every drop of blood in my veins, every beat of this mortal heart belongs to you. I’m yours,” Osamu spoke against her satin skin, his dark eyes on her. “Are you mine?”

Monica nodded, unable to look away from the desperation forming in those glassy eyes.

Osamu ducked his head, brought his forehead to hers as he was quickly losing the battle of how much space he could tolerate between them. “Say it for me, please, Monica. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I-I’m y-yours,” Monica was helpless to do anything else, whether responding to the hitch in his voice, the tremble in his body, or the small, teardrop stain on his shirt right next to her picture in his locket.

Osamu closed the distance between them in an instant, his lips searing in a claiming kiss that sealed her words to him like a promise. It soothed across his frantically beating heart like a balm even as his large hands fell to her hips, curving around the small of her back to lift her petite frame into his. She fit perfectly, as he knew her to do, and he knew this was how it should always be.

Jealousy was a cruel teacher, but Osamu knew the hard lesson learned was that he would not, could not, lose her.

[lovebiotes]

writing prompts? maybe winter/holiday symbrock? thank you for your time :o

@adhdbeowulf I loved this idea so much thank you for sending this in and I hope you like it ♡

Eddie! Wake up, lazy!

The lazy man in question does nothing more than groan and roll over, burying his head further into his pillow. He flinches when something cold presses against his bare neck, but instead of budging, he just slaps at the inky tendril.

Eddie, it’s snowing, get up, get up! Wanna see snow!

With a huff, Eddie flops his head to the side, cracking open one eye to peek out through his window. He’s met with a snippet of skyline, hazy in the bright wintry glow of the day. Gentle flurries of snowflakes dance around in the breeze and stick to the tops of buildings in powdery clumps.

“Mhmm, well, ’s winter in New York, bud,” he mumbles out, still half asleep.

Eddie! We made a promise, wanna see snow!

That they did.

Eddie’s in New York for the long weekend as part of a work-and-play trip. Seeing as the city was positively crawling with superheroes and other weirdos who just really “hate fun”, as Venom had so eloquently put it, Eddie made them promise to be on their best behavior. Also known as no head eating or creep beating. Also known as timeout, in Venom’s mind. (Despite their insistence that timeout was for children, they seemed to throw quite the childish tantrum over it, pouting included).

In exchange for Venom’s patience and cooperation while Eddie worked on his story, he in turn had to promise to take his other on a tour of the city. The symbiote had been absolutely ecstatic, especially after flipping through the scrapbook of memories stored in the back of Eddie’s mind. Venom pulled out snapshots from Eddie’s younger years, pointing out all of the things they wanted to do.

One memory in particular had caught Venom’s attention, making them swirl around in awe and curiosity. It had been the time that Eddie and his college roommate had gotten drunk and stumbled around central park, flailing around in the snow drifts and trying to catch as many snowflakes as possible on their tongues.

What is that…? Venom had asked, rumbly voice surprisingly soft with wonder. Eddie had gone on to explain what snow was, and how it was “basically just really, really cold rain”. Living in San Francisco didn’t exactly provide the best opportunities for him to introduce his symbiote to all of the amusing little things about earth.

Immediately after feeling their giddiness at the thought, Eddie promised them that if it snowed whilst they were in New York, he’d take them to that very park. The excitement that had bubbled beneath his skin when he checked the weather forecast made his heart soar.

Eddie whines loudly as Venom replays the memory in his head, obviously pulling their guilt trip bullshit again. He doesn’t even bother opening his eyes when he replies.

“V, I promise we’ll go later, just lemme sleep some more.”

What if it goes away?

The meekness in his other’s voice gives Eddie pause. He does his best to fight off the pang in his chest but then a pulse of disappointment inches through their bond and Eddie can’t hold back the sympathetic grunt he lets out.

“Fine, fine, lemme get dressed okay? Also, breakfast,” he adds, throwing back the heavy blanket and blinking slowly against the bright daylight. Sitting up and rubbing his knuckles across his eyes, he groans. “A big breakfast.”

Venom hums in agreement.

Eddie quickly shimmies on the first pair of pants that he sees, snatches up his hoodie off the back of the desk chair, and throws on his leather jacket. Hopping, he tries to balance on one foot while pulling on a boot, losing his balance when Venom begins to impatiently tug at him. After nearly face planting into the bed, Eddie huffs, agitated.

“Not cool, V,” he fusses, shoving his foot the rest of the way into his shoe and straightening up.

Hurry, Eddie. Wanna see snow!

His frown immediately melts away, replaced by an affectionate smile. Chuckling at his other’s eagerness, Eddie grabs up his keys and wallet, tucking his phone into his back pocket with a playful sigh.  

“You got it, bud.”

After a quick stop at the complimentary hot buffet in the hotel lobby–eggs, pancakes, and a metric fuckton of bacon–the two make their way out onto the bustling streets of New York. The walk is pretty peaceful, and Eddie spends most of the time explaining things to Venom and answering their questions. It’s only about twenty minutes before they make it to their destination.

Despite how cold it is, Eddie takes the long way round Central Park, dipping through the less crowded and more isolated trails whenever he gets the chance. It gives him the opportunity to talk to Venom out in the open without getting weird looks.

Once alone, Venom pops their tiny head out from under Eddie’s collar and floats around, opalescent eyes wide as they take in everything around them. Big cities definitely aren’t new to them, but apparently seeing one covered in snow is just a completely different world to them.

At one point, V sticks out their tongue to try and catch snowflakes. They aren’t all that good at it, but Eddie would be lying if he said he doesn’t giggle like a middle schooler when they finally do manage to get one. Their eyes immediately narrow into pleased slits and they get a goofy little grin on their face. Shoving their tongue towards Eddie, they purr, proudly showing off their achievement.

Eddie, look! We caught some!

“Good job, love,” Eddie murmurs with a silly smile on his own face. He nudges Venom’s head with his reddened nose, brushing the backs of his knuckles beneath their chin. V leans into him, literally vibrating with contentment.

Suddenly, Venom’s head snaps around, tilting up as they take a deep whiff of the air around them. This instantly puts Eddie on edge and he tenses, preparing for a fight.

“What’s wrong, V?”

They’re silent for a moment before they turn back towards Eddie, that stupid grin on their face and their tongue lolling out of the side of their mouth like a goddamned puppy.

We smell hot chocolate.

As realization sinks in, Eddie relaxes and watches as Venom’s smile grows even wider. The unspoken question hangs in the air, as well as the implication that they would be getting some regardless of Eddie’s answer. He doesn’t even bother holding back the long suffering sigh he lets out.

“You’re ridiculous.”

A ripple of smugness flows through their connection.

We know.

[wtfzodiacsigns]

Compatibility of the Elements

Fire & Fire

Fire symbolizes energy. When two fire signs are in a relationship, it is often mutually understood that actions speak louder than words. Both prefer to be shown that they’re loved, rather than being told that they’re loved. If they both aim in the same direction, then together they can accomplish anything – and fast. In love, they often strive to further their relationship, and get deeper, faster. They often dive head-first into love, and feel equally desired by their partner. There are often power struggles, as both want to take the lead of the adventure they’re on. If they can learn to explore together as a team, rather than one leading the other, this can be a powerful union.

Fire & Earth

Fire Signs easily interact with the world around them. Earth Signs find more comfort in the internal world, than the external one. Fire Signs are impulsive, Earth Signs plan ahead. These two together may seem a little mismatched, but have a lot to learn from one another. The Earth Sign teaches the Fire Sign to plan ahead for the future, rather than acting to satisfy their current whims. The Fire Sign teaches the Earth Sign how to come out of their shells, and bond with the world. Earth Signs live in the material world, whereas the Fire Signs live in the active world. Trouble often arises when the Earth Sign asks for proof of commitment, and the Fire Sign believes they’ve already proven as much. This can be solved if they learn to understand as well as speak each other’s’ love language.

Fire & Air

Fire Signs act based on what they feel, Air Signs act based on what is most logically sound. Fire Signs are very involved in the world around them, Air Signs prefer to observe. When together, the Air Sign challenges the Fire Sign to stop and think about why they do what they do; something that isn’t often a concern for the Fire Signs. On the other hand, the Fire Sign challenges the Air Sign actually do something rather than just sit around and discuss what should be done. While these challenges may seem like friction to outsiders, it often provides the stimulation both Signs require in a relationship. They help each other progress towards healthier expressions of their thoughts and desires.

Fire & Water

Fire Signs rather do things, whereas Water Signs rather think about things. Fire Signs get angry when Water Signs get sad. Fire Signs’ emotions end as quickly as they start, Water Signs’ emotions linger. When these two are together, the differences will be apparent immediately. However, it often balances out. Water teaches Fire to think before they act, and Fire teaches Water to stand up for themselves. Water’s affectionate nature often fulfills the Fire Signs’ need for attention. Similarly, the passionate nature of Fire Signs make the Water Signs feel desired; something that is often very reassuring to them. Sensitive Water Signs are easily wounded by the Fire Signs’ angry outbursts. This can lead to, what may appear to be sulking, which can wound the Fire Sign’s pride. So long as the Fire Sign can work on expressing their temper in less destructive ways, and the Water Sign can learn to truly forgive their partner for saying things out of anger, this can be a very rewarding match.

Earth & Earth

Earth symbolizes materialism. When two earth signs are in a relationship, they realize quite quickly how useful their partner is, as well as how useful they are to their partner. They have a solid grasp on the reality of most situations, and misunderstandings will be more communication based rather than perception based. Communication may be difficult for these two, because while they may be aware of what’s going on, talking about it is something completely different. Earth signs are very sensual, but struggle discussing what it is they are sensing. If they can work on opening up communication lines will deepen their bond, and add solid structure atop their already sturdy foundation.

Earth & Air

Earth Signs prefer to think things through. Air Signs prefer to talk things through. This can cause strife between the two, as the Air Sign may get frustrated with their partner not talking to them about what’s going on. On the flip side, the Earth Sign may feel frustrated that they are being required to discuss things they’d rather bury. This can lead to a lot of miscommunications and/or misunderstandings. The Air Sign may also feel as if their partner is trying to “tie them down” by demanding commitment, whereas the Earth Sign may feel as if they’re the only ones truly working. On the positive side, both are logical and intellectual individuals who can share in many interesting conversations. If they can work out the differences, this can be a highly stimulating and beneficial relationship.

Earth & Water

Earth Signs prefer to bury their thoughts. Water Signs prefer to work through their feelings. Earth Signs plan. Water Signs go with the flow. These differences are often very complimentary. The Water Sign finds a solid, helpful, nurturing and caring partner in their Earth Sign mate. The Earth Sign finds someone with whom they can truly be open about that which is usually hidden and suppressed. Both provide a warm and safe environment wherein they can truly open up to one another, and show their true colors.

Air & Air

Air symbolizes ideas. When two air signs are in a relationship, they share a strong bond over ease of communication. In fact, it might be the “theme” of their relationship. They often say things like “you’re so easy to talk to.” Exchanging ideas and discussing options is how they establish intimacy and build their foundation of trust. If one of them talks more, it is often because the other understands where the conversation is going. A quiet air sign controls communication by being in charge of access and availability. They open the doors to communication by being willing to sit and listen to their partner. This gives them both reassurance of affection and communication. Decision making may be difficult for this pair, as Air signs are known for being fickle and indifferent. As long as they find ways to work together to make definitive decisions, they can be quite happy together.

Air & Water

Air Signs navigate the world through logic. Water Signs navigate the world through emotions. Air Signs prefer to observe the world around them from a safe distance. Water Signs prefer to be right up close to what they care about. When put together, those difference can either bring balance or disharmony. The Water Sign often feels they are putting in more of the affection than they are receiving, and the Air Sign often feels their freedom is being restricted. If these two can come to understand the basic differences in their nature, they have a lot to teach one another. The Air Sign can teach the Water Sign to use logic to calm their emotional waves, and the Water Sign can teach the Air Sign to open up to their true feelings.

Water & Water

Water symbolizes emotion. When two water signs are in a relationship, they understand one another instinctively. So well so, that they almost seem to read one another’s mind. While they may not be able to articulate all that they notice about their partner, they understand one another deeply, and find they share a significant amount of mutual affection and respect. While their ease of understanding prevents friction, their relationship may be seen as drifting without aim. These two swim together well, but with two very emotional individuals together, there is a tendency towards drowning in the waves. One person is upset, which makes the other upset, which causes the former to feel guilt and become more upset, which causes the latter to feel guilty… and so on. As long as they can learn to set aside their feelings at the appropriate times, the two can form a magical union.

Source:  astraltwelve

[samingtonwilson]

Designated Walker (Jim Kirk x Reader)

Prompt: I was wondering if I could request a JimxReader fic where they go to a party and Jim gets a bit tipsy and the reader has to drag him home and he later apologizes? - @imaginenterprise

Word count: 1,790

Warnings: alcohol; possibly language (since I can’t guarantee that I kept that PG ever)

A/N: that took me much longer to write than I thought and the apology is a very, very tiny part of it so maybe that’s not what was precisely wanted? i also feel like it’s a jim kirk piece that’s a little light on the jim kirk? i hope not! i really do hope that you like it!

It was an unspoken rule amongst the crew of the USS Enterprise to maintain distance between one another during shore leave. In part, this was probably due to the already copious amounts of time spent together hurtling through the dark depths of space— especially while on short leaves during which the Enterprise was receiving minor repairs and resupplementation. This short shore leave, however, happened to coincide with a certain Russian wizkid’s birthday— if there’s one thing Chekov birthday meant, it was an excuse for a lot of drinking. It was difficult to say no to that— after an exhausting year and a half into a five year mission, any excuse to drink was a good excuse to drink.

So, true to assumption, Chekov’s small, one-bedroom, Starfleet-issued living quarters was filled to the brim with crew members and his admirers, alike, all intending to engage in said drinking under the guise of celebration. All stood, sat, or awkwardly danced in whatever space they could find in the limitedly illuminated temporary living space while the smell of vodka in the air grew stronger by the second— which was likely a result of the room’s population.

Away from the larger clusters of people, you sat upon the kitchen island counter at the extreme right, swinging your legs as you clutched a cup filled with beer that you had no desire to drink. It was difficult to find a part of the counter that wasn’t sticky but you were determined to stay as far as possible from the louder, more intoxicated partygoers. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy a good Chekov party, you just had a drunk Jim to look out for.

“Life of the party, huh?”

You looked up from the aged cabinets the heels of your boots repeatedly struck and offered Uhura a small smile. You nodded towards a drunk Jim that leant his drunken balance-challenged body against a scowling Leonard that rolled his eyes periodically. “I’m designated walker tonight, Ny.”

Uhura followed your line of vision and bit down on her bottom lip, seemingly to control the budding grin that narrowed her deep brown eyes. “It’s a shame Spock refused to come because of that meeting in the morning. You could’ve gotten the night off Jim duty.”

“I’d be on Jim duty regardless.” You set the beer down and ran your palms against the lap of your jeans. “Societal rules about being a good partner, or whatever. He did it for me on the last starbase, so now it's my turn.”

You both watched as Chekov passed Jim only to receive excessive shouts and slaps on the back. You could only imagine the horrendous jokes about the young man’s apparently greying hair as Leonard’s scowl grew to an unbelievable oceanic depth and Chekov looked embarrassed for them all.

You sighed and straightened your slouched posture. “Besides, I can’t in good conscience take any more free booze from Chekov. Bones and I steal enough of it whenever we’re stuck catching up on patient charts.”

Once she’d brushed her long, dark hair over her slender shoulder, she motioned towards Leonard who had just polished off a glass of scotch and shook his head. “He clearly doesn’t have a problem with it.”

“He’s very good at putting his conscience on mute for a night— it’s what got us through that last bottle of whiskey we swiped from the kid’s quarters.”

“How’d you even get into his quarters?” Uhura asked with a snort.

You shrugged. “Bones can get into anyone’s quarters as CMO and I can get into anyone’s quarters by manipulation of the man I’m dating.”

You wet your lips and tilted your head as you watched Jim sling an arm over Leonard’s shoulders— overly-publicly-affectionate Jim was the last stage of drunkenness before it’s-time-to-break-out-the-stomach-pump Jim. “Speaking of whom, I should probably get him back before we need to call this planet’s paramedics. From what I can tell, they don’t get friendlier the more jokes you make and drunk Jim thinks he’s some sort of comic.”

She nodded with a frown of consideration and laughed when she met your eye for a moment. She tilted her head as well and stared as Jim invaded Leonard’s personal space with his lips mere centimeters from the doctor’s ear. “He’s got that meeting in the morning, too. Spock won’t be too happy if Kirk shows up with a massive hangover.”  

You felt a corner of your lips quirk up. “And we wouldn’t want that, now would we? Spock’s disappointed stare still haunts me in my sleep.”

As you said goodbye to Uhura, you already felt a weight on your shoulders. Your shoes stuck irritatingly to the tiled floors and you were forced to push several bodies out of the way enroute to Jim. He was reaching for the drink volunteer-bartender Scotty offered him and your steps picked up pace, taking the hand he held out and lacing your fingers through his.

You smiled at the Scotsman and shook your head with a wrinkled nose. “Thanks, Scotty, but he’s had enough.” You then leaned away from Jim as his nose brushed against your hair— you could hear the deep inhale as he smelled the untied strands. You narrowed your eyes at his almost sparkling blue irises. “We should go.”

He frowned, squeezing your hand in his. “But I’m still thirsty.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

You set the fingers of your free hand on his lips when he leaned forward, turning your face to look at a perpetually frowning Leonard. You had to stop yourself from laughing at his disgusted features. “I’ll see you at the base hospital tomorrow?”

“You sure you won’t be too exhausted from wrangling your toddler back to his room to choose and restock medical supplies bright and early?” He nodded towards Jim. “He’s smelling your hair.”

“I’m aware,” you said with a hum. You took a step in the direction of the door, pulling Jim’s almost flailing body along. You shouted to Leonard over your shoulder, “No matter how tired he makes me, I’ll be there. He’s got an early morning as is.”

“Good luck with that, darlin’.”

It wasn’t too difficult to get him out of the door— but that’s where the ease ended. Overly-affectionate Jim had a tendency to pull you to a stop every few seconds just to press his lips to yours and his hands stayed somewhere against your body the entire walk over. While you felt lucky the easily-distracted Jim stage had passed, his nose in your hair, his arms around your waist, and his feet so dangerously close to yours made the walk across the courtyard much more difficult.

The starbase on which you all were docked was in the middle of a season that resembled a San Francisco winter— cold, but not freezing. The wind blew your hair into Jim’s eyes and he passed oddly complimentary comments about the softness of your hands, the coolness of your cheeks, and the sound of your voice each time you said his name in annoyance.

While only the aforementioned courtyard separated the junior officers’ building from the senior officers’, the walk took an irritatingly long amount of time and you found yourself sighing out in relief the moment it was over.

You let go of Jim’s hand as you hailed an elevator and leaned against the adjacent wall. You wrinkled your nose as he briefly kissed your forehead. “So much for taking it easy?”

He entangled your fingers together once more and pulled you into the elevator as the metallic doors slid open. The cold air appeared to have had a sobering quality as Jim’s voice was more stable as he spoke. “I could’ve drank more.”

“Really?” you said with a laugh, biting down on your bottom lip as you pressed the button for his floor. You took your hand from his and faced the doors rather than lose yourself in his crystalline eyes. “I think your liver would disagree.”

His arm encircled your waist from behind and he set his chin upon your shoulder. You could smell the alcohol lacing his breath. “It’s not like I don’t have the best doctor in the galaxy on standby.”

“I’m sure Bones would really appreciate the compliment.”

He sighed when you stepped through the open doors and trailed behind you through the silent corridor. “You make it very difficult to flirt.”

“That’s something I pride myself on, Tiberius.”

He sucked a sharp inhale through his teeth, punching in the code required to unlock his door before walking inside. “Tiberius. That’s a no-sex-tonight name.”

“Wow. Very intuitive for a drunk man.”

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”  

Stepping past him into the bedroom, you shrugged as you tossed your oversized leather jacket aside, kicking your boots off next with no regard for where they landed.

Jim’s temporary apartment was a lot larger than yours and came with far more amenities— so it was an easy choice to sleep there for the eight days you were docked. Your clothes sat folded in the same drawers his clothes were balled up in and your shoes were strewn about over the floors just as his were— it became more amusing each morning he attempted to cram his much larger feet in your much smaller boots by mistake.

He appeared to still be expecting an answer when you fell onto the bed, one of your arms draped over your eyes as you felt the space beside you on the mattress dip. “I’m not mad at you, Jim.”

You heard the springs of the mattress groan as he adjusted his sitting position so his torso was propped up by one of his elbows. He pushed your arm from your eyes and returned your frown. His eyes that you thought were glazed over in intoxication held a pair of a pupils that dilated as you stared up at him. “You’re sure?”

It was difficult to maintain any level of annoyance and irritation targeted at Jim when he looked down at you with so much adoration in his eyes so you reached up to sweep back the hair that fell into the sky hued irises. You let your fingertips trail down to one of his cheekbones and smiled at him ever so slightly. “I’m sure.” Craning your neck, you brushed your nose against his. “Sleep. You have to be up early and I could do without Spock’s blank stare of disappointment.”

“I am sorry, you know,” he said as he pushed himself off the bed. “I promise that next time I won’t even complain when you’re all over me after a night of tequila shots.”

“You act like you’ve ever complained about that before.”