#tabby concrete

[phpositivitymonth]

Outdoor Kitchen Outdoor Kitchen Example of a mid-sized beach style backyard tile patio kitchen design with no cover

[harpe-et-nitroglycerine]

Front Door Mudroom Atlanta Large cottage entryway idea with white walls and a front door made of dark wood.

[catfindr]

[yoshistory]

I know this is like. Stupice. But I get jelous of people who have like a mascot or sona or way they draw themselves or other way of presenting themselves where I feel like I cannot solidly pin something like this down that like ... FEELS like ME yannow... and I know that doesn't happen unless u try and develop it over time & shit

[pirdmystery]

vacation dump

[rickybabyboy]

i go outside no problem see mom its fine

ID: Orange and white tabby walking down a concrete hallway

[barrenclan]

"Binary Star"

Oh Slugpelt, oh Slugpelt... probably my favorite character from the whole comic. I worked really hard on her epilogue to make sure it had everything I wanted to include, because I had a lot of thoughts on Slugpelt and her rocky road towards recovery and the places she's suffered or regressed along the way.

A lot of her story has revolved around grief and depression, and the fear that comes from being raised under abuse and how you deal with that as an adult. Slugpelt's tendency has always been to isolate herself, inside of a protective shell of prickliness and avoidance. It's very tempting, and would be deeply understandable, for her to retreat into again after the events of the comic. After a long time, that misery feels natural and familiar, and very scary when you consider trying to leave the thing that's helped you survive. And although it can be cathartic to really dig yourself into those emotions, at some point I think many people just - want to feel good again. That can be a difficult decision to face, but Slugpelt has people around her who are able to give her concrete goals to work towards, and support her when she falters.

Daffodilcloud's kittens are named Goldie (gold spotted), Jenny (black and gray), and Nellie (brown tabby). All three are female.

The title comes from Tom Godwin's story "The Cold Equations": The law of gravitation was a rigid equation and it made no distinction between the fall of a leaf and the ponderous circling of a binary star system.”

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[sweetiechenle]

liability ᕱ⑅ᕱ jeno

pairing: non-idol!jeno x afab!bunnyhybrid!reader

summary: no matter how badly you wanted to deny it, jeno was your home

warnings: slight prostitution in the beginning (don't do that???), you get beat up but its not that descriptive (sorry), cursing, reader is stubborn and jeno is kinda obsessed w you (in a good way) like its love at first sight, its serious for him, found family, little soulmate au, strangers to lovers, strangers to roommates(?), talks about class status, if i forgot anything i'm sorry, fiction ≠ reality

it was as if you could feel the air move right through you, it sent a shiver down your spine, yet you stood tall on the side of the road. a couple more girls were with you, some had already found their ‘date’ for tonight. you had seen some clients earlier in the night, but now it was up to random people to come and seek you out. you were dying to get back to your hotel, but your inner demon had won the fight earlier to stay out a little longer to make more money since your hotel room was only up until the morning, you needed it for a couple more days before going elsewhere. it was straightforward for now, but life for a poor, family-less hybrid never was easy, decade after decade, it never got better, so it was up to you and other poor hybrids to fend for themselves.

your mother and father died when you were younger and their guardians didn’t want to be the only ones to have to take care of you. so they left you to rot in shelters and pounds, you barely remember them at all now that you’re older. hybrids don’t really own houses because they usually would have a guardian, while renting apartments was debatable. only if a landlord would allow it, most of the time it wasn’t worth it. hybrids, most of the time didn’t get jobs either, so employers didn’t really hire, so there was no real way for you to make money other than sleeping around for it. it wasn’t fun or ideal but it was better than being starving and ‘homeless’ (or not living from hotel to hotel). you looked around in the dark, only the street lamp illuminating the faces of the other girls near you, telling one, who was a tabby cat hybrid, that you’d be walking down the street looking for potential clients. ‘be safe’ she said before you disappeared into the night, you had said the same.

no matter how many years you’ve been doing this, dark alleys and corners always freaked you out, it was better to stay in groups, but you needed the money. you scratched behind your long ears, picking up sounds in the night, as cars drove past you. one stopped a block away from you, the window was rolled down and that only meant one thing. You took a deep breath and braced yourself, walking towards the car. crouching down to the window, you leaned in.

‘get in’ the random stranger said, you sighed while opening up the car door, it was like clockwork and you were used to the rudeness of strangers. ‘what breed are you?’ the question was normal, some hybrid breeds were more desirable than others, thankfully you being an english lop was more enticing than others.

the stranger drove off with you in the passenger seat, he stopped in an alley which was normal for the most part. you braced yourself, this part was always the worst, it was always awkward trying to set the atmosphere, especially with someone like him who wasn’t much of a talker. you started to take off your shirt, it wasn’t until you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. closing your eyes in pain you groaned and you looked down and all you could see was red and you felt a throbbing pain shoot up and down. looking around, you noticed the open space outside, reaching for the door handle, it opened as you pulled weakly. falling to the ground, your knees hit the concrete hard, but all you cared about was getting out alive. you heard of shit like this happening, poor, homeless hybrids you knew going missing, and you silently cursed yourself for not being more careful.

not knowing where to go, you shuffled on the ground, crawling to wherever you could. you touched your stomach and wiped your tears, terrified that you’d end up as another nameless hybrid; dead. you saw shoes and looked up at the stranger towering over you, ‘please’ you cried. there was no way of convincing him anymore as he kicked your torso, you fell to the ground on your side, groaning and trying to roll up in a ball, crying as you felt heavy punches coming down. your head kept hitting the concrete with every punch, and you gagged on the taste of your blood and tears.

your eyes eventually grew heavy and there were no more tears left in you, only fatigue as the concrete below you cooled your body down. after what seemed like hours you hear murmurs around you, causing your body to jerk awake. panicked that the stranger was back to finish the job, you tried to move away with all of the strength you had left. before you could get away you could feel yourself getting lifted off of the ground, and put into a vehicle. Once the stranger set you down gently on the seat you lost consciousness again.

as you came closer to your senses, you could hear people talking and the beeping of random machines, everything was cloudy and you couldn’t see very well even though your eyes were open wide. with a shot of adrenaline, trying to get up you huffed and pulled at the cables that connected you to the machines. in a frenzy, random people stormed at you with concerning looks saying things like ‘no’, ‘don't do that’, and ‘lay back down’. you tried to push them away, scared of the unknown situation you got yourself into, the doctors eventually got you back down on the bed. a lady sat in front of you, explaining everything, you tried to grasp the conversation and to piece everything that happened together, someone had picked you up and taken you to the alley and beat you. then someone found you and took you to the hospital, of course, no cops were going to be involved, you were just a poor hybrid. she informed you that the person who picked you up would be willing to let you stay with him since you were not chipped. you nodded, knowing you didn’t have a guardian to go back to.

after the sudden adrenaline wore off, you could now feel the pain that was inflicted the night before, the nurse told you that you had broken your wrist, cuts along your body, and major bruising and swelling, but that you should be making a full recovery soon. you sighed, scared of what will happen to you now. after a couple of minutes, a nurse and a man entered your room, you stopped watching the tv and looked at them, the nurse started, ‘y/n, this is jeno, he was the one who picked you up last night and brought you here, he decided that you can stay with him until you fully recover.’ you nodded, ‘he already signed you out, so you can leave whenever, if you feel any worse, come back and see us and we can take care of you again.’ you were surprised at how kindly they were treating you, he must be very important to be able to give you treatment here in a human hospital…

you had no choice but to trust this man, it was either go with him or go back outside and fend for yourself waiting for your attacker to come find you at any moment. you sighed and followed him outside, moving slowly due to your injuries, you took notice of how he waited for you whenever you fell behind. he took you to his car in the parking lot, opening the passenger door up for you, you glanced at him, and he motioned for you to get in, and you eventually did. jeno was beautiful, he had a boyish look but somehow still looked mature, he wore a suit that looked expensive, and he always had a permanent smile with kind eyes, he looked like someone you could trust. you hoped to god he was someone to trust. you kept staring at him until he glanced over at you, his mouth slightly upturning in amusement.

‘got any family?’ he asked you. you shook your head as if he was watching (he wasn’t).

‘no’ you answered meekly

‘got any friends?’ he asked again.

same answer ‘no… unless you count other prostitutes’ you said lowly, almost embarrassed.

he hummed in response, ‘is that what you were doing last night?’ another question and you were growing tired, leaning your head on the window, watching the trees go past.

you stayed silent for a minute, letting the question marinate in your head before finally answering him, ‘gotta make money somehow’.

‘where were you staying? i can go pick up your things’ he offered and you took your head off of the window to look at him.

‘you’d do that for me? It’s not a lot of stuff…’ you didn’t want to sound like a burden, first, he saved your life, taking you in until you fully healed, and now he wants to go out of his way to help you get back what little you had. ‘honestly, the hotel probably threw it all away by now’ you looked down and played with the ends of the sweater the hospital put on you, the only outfit you had right now.

he sighed and you could tell he was already frustrated, ‘well if that’s the case, i’ll just get you more things, as of right now you are my responsibility.’ he answered and you decided to leave it at that for the rest of the trip.

‘okay he is rich’, you concluded as he pulled up to his apartment in the middle of seoul, you don’t even think you’ve ever seen this part of the city before. he parked the car and went around to open up your door and help you out, he left you to stand there as he handed his keys to someone else who took the car to god knows where. ‘come on’, he guided you to the front of the door, opening it with a key card and taking you to the elevator, the security guard glaring at you as you walked past him behind jeno.

the elevator ride was silent until jeno spoke up first, ‘i apologize, my apartment is kind of a mess… i didn’t expect any guests.’ he laughed a little bit to lighten up the mood.

you gave him a little smile, trying to make light of the situation, ‘it’s fine i didn’t expect to end up in a hospital’. he didn’t say anything else.

you waited as he unlocked the door, opening it for you, which further confirmed your thought that he’s rich… thanking the heavens that you weren’t picked up by anyone else. the living room was spacious with an open-concept kitchen and appliances that cost more money than what you would see in your entire life, he started to show you around, and you followed him. ‘this is the living room’ obviously, you thought to yourself but didn’t want to ruin the show, so all you did was nod as you walked from room to room. he showed you his room, where the bathroom was that you could use, and then he opened the door to another bedroom stating, ‘this can be your room! i’m sorry it looks really boring…’ he looked down at his feet, almost shy to face you, ‘to be honest, i’ve never really had any interactions with any other bunny hybrids, one of my close friends, haechan, has a bunny hybrid named jaemin though, i’m not sure what breed… i plan on calling him and seeing what i should do… he’s really nice, you should meet him sometime, like a playdate or something…’ he was trailing off and you giggled lowly as he voiced his train of thought, he looked up at you and excused himself to go call his friend, telling you to ‘make yourself feel at home in the meantime’, you weren’t sure what he intended, never really having a ‘home’... you decided to take a look around, taking in the scent of the man who is housing you so you can become familiar with it. he was in the kitchen, taking out pots and pans and glancing at his phone ever so often, ‘what are you doing?’ you asked him.

‘making us dinner, i called haechan, he can come by next week with jaemin if you’d like to meet him, he’s a rabbit hybrid just like you.’

you felt uneasy, you wanted to please him, but the thought of being around a lot of strangers overwhelmed you, he took notice of your silence and the way you began to fiddle with your sleeve, ‘just think about it for right now’ he said giving you a reassuring smile, ‘you should go lay down and i’ll let you know when dinner is ready.’ you nodded and left him to it.

you don’t remember when you fell asleep but you gasped when someone shook you awake, almost giving you a heart attack, but it was only jeno looming over you beside your bed. you stared at him with wide eyes, as if asking ‘why would you do that!?’. he gave you a sheepish smile, ‘dinner is ready… i have a surprise for you!’ you got up and followed him to the kitchen. he pulled out your chair and you sat down without another word, he brought you a hot, steaming bowl that smelled like carrots, maybe a bit too much on the nose, which made you silently laugh. he put something else down for you, ‘that’s for you,’ it was an old iphone, ‘i can’t,’ you refused to take it, there was no way you could pay him back for it, ‘don’t worry its an old phone, you need to have a way to contact me while i’m at work in case you need anything.’ he was trying really hard to get you to take it and it was kind of annoying. ‘you don’t even know me’ you said, pushing it away, he had already sat down across from you, eating his own meal. He decided to ignore your stubbornness, ‘eat your food before it gets cold,’ you had no choice but to oblige.

after dinner, you offered to help clean up, but he refused, telling you to go sit on the couch and find something for them to watch, you sighed and sat down on the leather couch, getting comfortable, as you were channel surfing it dawned on you that you shouldn’t be getting too comfortable, this was all temporary anyways. glancing down at your bandaged wrist, when it was the day to take it off, when your bruises faded, when your cuts healed; that was the time you knew you had to leave, saying goodbye to your savior and his warm house he invited you to. you thought to yourself that it was probably out of pity and to save his ego, now he’ll be able to tell people ‘well i saved someone from dying, what did you do last night?’ you felt shame, that you were just using him, and that you were burdening him, it was embarrassing and you looked to the front door debating if you should just save him the trouble and leave tomorrow to go back to your old hotel and beg for a room and your stuff back. you looked up when you felt the other side of the couch dip, you looked up at him, he had changed out of his suit and he was now in sweats and a white t-shirt that didn’t look as expensive. before he could say anything you decided to speak, ‘why?’ was all you could say, it was all you wanted to know, like you stated before, he didn’t know you and you didn’t know him, so why did he care so much? why did he want to help you so badly? he cleared his throat and sighed, collecting his thoughts of what to say, ‘i was working late, i never work that late, but i had a project i’d been working on with my team. the stress was eating me alive so i wanted to finish it as soon as possible,’ you nodded, wanting him to keep going, ‘after i finally finished, i called my friend who was at a bar near where you were… so i went and had a drink, and when i was leaving… that's when i saw you.’ he closed his eyes and sighed, not wanting to upset you by bringing up what happened, ‘i couldn’t just leave you, you would’ve died.’ you hummed, knowing that much was true.

‘i don’t know, i guess it might've been the buzz of alcohol or something else compelling me to take you to the hospital. when they told me you needed to have emergency surgery for some of your injuries i couldn’t just leave until i knew you were okay… then they told me you weren’t chipped and probably didn’t have a home, so they told me they couldn’t perform surgery without a guardian, and i was at a real crossroad…’ you went wide-eyed as he recounted the night, ‘you didn’t…’ you whispered to him. he sighed and looked up at you, he was guilty and you couldn’t believe it… all for a stranger. ‘i signed some papers and you were sent off for surgery, they didn’t tell you, but he had stabbed you with a blunt object in your stomach, it wasn’t deep, but it wasn’t good either… you would’ve died.’ you were baffled, you couldn’t even form a thought of what to say to him, instead you got up and walked to your room, slamming the door and crawling into bed, leaving your new ‘guardian’ sitting on the couch.

the light coming in through the blinds woke you up, and it hurt, your bones screaming for some kind of relief as you recovered from what had happened a couple of days before. you thanked yourself for being so exhausted that you didn’t even have time to have any nightmares about what happened, you guessed you’d gotten used to the trauma by being alone your whole life.

you groaned as you got up, taking as long as possible to go outside of your room, scared you’d see jeno. you peeked your head out and looked around the apartment, you could see that his bedroom door was left ajar and that the living room and kitchen were empty. You left your room and made your way to the kitchen table, noticing a note for you and the phone you refused to take last night right next to it. the note was from jeno obviously and you rolled your eyes at how it started with an apology for what happened last night, that he would be home later after work and to call him if you needed anything, and that lunch was in the fridge for you. you ate the lunch he prepared for you while playing on your ‘new’ phone. it was still early in the morning and you didn’t know when he would be back so you lounged around the apartment, taking a nap here and there until you heard the door open.

it was like a routine now, you would wake up, jeno would be gone, you’d eat lunch and wait for him to get back to do things with you, sometimes taking you out on a walk or watching tv when you felt too tired or sore to do anything else. it had already been a week with jeno and it was finally the weekend, a couple of days ago he asked if you wanted to meet haechan and jaemin, and you reluctantly agreed, if jeno trusted them then you would too.

jeno was making dinner for the four of you and you sat at the table, watching him go back and forth around the kitchen. ‘so, jaemin is a little hyper and can be touchy at times, don’t let him scare you, and don’t be afraid to push him off, he won’t get offended.’ you nodded, taking mental notes, ‘haechan is funny, if you like my jokes, you’ll laugh at his.’ you gave him a look and he stopped to look at you too, ‘i don’t laugh at your jokes.’ you told him, half messing with him and half telling the hard truth. he playfully rolled his eyes and went back to cooking without a single word.

jeno was putting on the finishing touches for dinner when the buzzer for the intercom rang, ‘oh that's them!’ he was running around the kitchen in a stripped apron with his black hair a mess, he put down the pot and ran to the door to buzz them in, in his white socks he slides on the wood floor and you stifle a laugh, ‘when they come to the door can you let them in?’ he asked. you agreed and got up to stand by the door and before you knew it, there was a knock, you opened it and was greeted with a very strong scent of another bunny hybrid, you didn’t even realize it had been almost a week and a half since you’ve seen another hybrid.

before anyone could be greeted a taller man pushed past the other one in front, who you assumed was haechan, and he grabbed you by the shoulders, which startled you a little bit. right from the get-go you knew this was jaemin. he was tall and undoubtedly handsome, the dirty blonde tinted hair matched his gray ears that stood up on his head. you had no choice but to stare into his big, dark eyes as he continued to hold a death grip on your shoulders. he took a deep breath, obviously taking in your scents, you tried to ignore the fact that jeno was staring at you. ‘i’ve heard so much about you’ the other bunny said. you smiled awkwardly and haechan came up to take jaemin away from you, muttering a ‘sorry about him’.

you helped jeno set the table, while talking with haechan and jaemin, trying to get to know them better, and continuing to talk throughout dinner. jeno was right, jaemin was very enthusiastic and hyper, and it took a lot to keep up with him in conversations. you learned that haechan had been ‘gifted’ jaemin when he was young, so they had known each other their whole lives. you tried not to feel jealous, wondering what that was like, to not have to worry about anything since the day you were born, to always have someone to watch over you. you looked back at jeno, who was talking with haechan, it reminded you of when he stated ‘you are my responsibility’ but yet you knew that what you yearned for was not with him, it scared you, knowing that any minute by the time you are fully healed, he’d give up liability and send you to the nearest shelter. you couldn’t have anything permanent like what jaemin and heachan had.

haechan and jaemin eventually left (not before exchanging phone numbers), leaving you and jeno to clean up, it was silent until jeno got your attention. ‘so i made you a doctors appointment, just to check on how you’re healing.’ you felt a sharp pain at your chest, you knew he meant well, but it scared you due to the fact that would mean you’re leaving sooner than you thought. ‘oh, thank you.’ was all you could say, ‘its in a week so make sure to be ready to leave before, i’ll remind you in a couple of days.’ you nodded, looking down at the table, wiping it clean.

the night before your appointment (after watching reruns of trivia shows with jeno), you got into bed and took out your phone, searching up homeless shelters in the area for hybrids, looking over a few you saved their addresses to write down later incase jeno wouldn’t let you keep the phone when you eventually left. after a while your eyes grew heavy, and you fell asleep, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares but those were far and a few inbetween, you remember a couple nights ago when it got so bad you woke up thinking someone was trying to break in. it was really embarrassing since you even woke up jeno, who got up to go check the door, promising you that no one was there, he even let you sleep in his bed with him, reassuring you he wouldn’t let anyone get inside the apartment. thats when you felt your most safest, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him anymore, so you tried to deal with them on your own.

by the time morning came around you scrambled to get up out of bed in time for your appointment, it seemed like jeno was running late too since he was no where to be found. before you knew it, it was time to leave and jeno had called you, stating that he was outside and that he had run somewhere before your appointment. you left the apartment and met him outside, you got in his car and he asked you how you slept, you said ‘fine’ and he didn’t push any further. the car ride was silent and so was the doctors appointment, the nurse performed a physical and looked over your previous wounds to see how you were healing, jeno stayed in the waiting room until it was time to give an answer on what to do next.

jeno entered the room and the nurse informed him that you’d been healing fine and that the cast on your wrist could come off now and you were nervous, it made you feel even worse when jeno asked her ‘we can do that here? now, right?’ she nodded and told you both to wait as she went to go get the doctor to do it. you didn’t bother to look at him when he sat down in the small room, you noticed how it was a human hospital like before. ‘i bet you’re excited to get the cast off’ he stated, you hummed in response, refusing to look up at him. he continued, ‘i also bet you’re hungry, im sorry i wasnt there to make you breakfast this morning, i had a work emergency…’

before you could say anything, the doctor and the nurse had arrived to take off your cast. silently mourning the loss of the seal that bounded you and jeno together, you didn’t want to say good bye, but like all things you’ve experienced, nothing good ever lasts. after, jeno checked you out and despite not even telling him you were hungry, he still stopped by somewhere to pick you up food.

later that day it was silent around the apartment, the air was heavy and it felt like the both of you wanted to say something but neither of you would go first. until jeno finally decided to break the ice, and you braced yourself for the confrontation. he had called after you from your room, and you anxiously made your way to the kitchen, taking small steps as you scratched the back of your ears. he showed you something on his phone, it was your search history from last night, ‘whats this?’ he asked. you were at a loss for words, you really didn’t know what to say ‘ummm’ you looked anywhere but at him, ‘i just thought…’ you trailed off, waiting for him to say it. ‘that i wanted you to leave?’ he whispered, you could hear the hurt in his voice. you sighed, ‘i just thought… that once i got better, you didn’t want me here anymore.’ you confessed, still refusing to look at him. He sighed and brought is hand to rub his temple, trying to stay calm, ‘do you not trust me?’ he asked. in a small voice you answered, ‘you don’t even know me.’

he slammed his fist on the kitchen table making you jump. ‘y/n, you can’t be serious, i know we haven’t known each other for as long as say, heachan and jaemin, but i think i know you enough that i want you to stay… you yell at the tv when someone doesn’t get a trivia question right, you know all of the answers despite not going to school, only because you used to go to the library as a kid and read all the books you could. you cried when we watched titantic together even though you’ve told me you’ve seen it before. your ears twitch whenever the music is too loud in the car, and that you like when they are scratched late at night,’ he moved around the table and grabbed you by the shoulders, bringing you closer to him, ‘whenever i make you your favorite food you tap your foot on the floor,’ he was staring intensely into your eyes, trying to find any confirmation that you were wrong, ‘y/n… you told me that you don’t have a family but, the thing is, i don’t either. i don’t understand everything you’ve been through, but i want to, i need you to believe that you deserve love, a family.’ your eyes welled up with tears and you couldn’t see him anymore, it was all blurry, your chest rose and fell rapidly, ‘i know we haven’t known each other for a while, but ever since i met you, ive had more reasons to be here than i’ve had in years, all i do is work, come home, eat and sleep, and i repeat that, i- i don’t have anyone here to watch titanic with me, or to read me a book while i cook and do laundry.’

hot tears rolled down your face as you remember the book you started reading and then eventually to him after he had asked too many questions about it, it was almost over, too. so many thoughts were running around in your head, this had never happened to you, and like most good things, it almost had always seemed too good to be true, all the times you were almost adopted as a young child but nothing was ever permanent, you didnt want to be fooled, like this would be any different. you knew better. he shook your shoulders slightly as you hesitiated, ‘bunny, please say something… it feels as though we were supposed to meet’ he whispered.

in his embrace the room felt way too small and way too hot, without even thinking twice, you broke away from him and ran towards the door. opening it you slammed the oak shut, the noise echoed through the hallway, definitely alerted some of the neighbors. forgetting about the elevator the stairs would be faster, you could hear jeno call after you as you hopped down the staircase, trying to leave the building as fast as possible. the regular security guard gave you a concerned look and tried to ask if you were okay, but you rushed right past him and out of the front door, into the busy streets of seoul. moving with the crowd you had no clue where you were going and at this point, you didn’t care. you looked back to make sure you’d lost jeno in the crowd, he was the last person you wanted to see right now, certainly he was lying, all everyone did was use you, and how was this any different? you walked around seoul until you got too tired, you had already turned on airplane mode so jeno couldn’t track you or call, you stared at the time and then a picture of him as your wallpaper, one you took without him looking at the camera, you knew you’d have to face him sometime, only to tell him goodbye and give back the phone.

you sighed, calling jaemin for some company and advice, you asked him to join you at this random cafe you found and not to tell anyone else. he reluctantly agreed, saying he’d be there soon. when it started getting dark, he finally showed up and silently walked to your table and sat across from you. ever since you met him, he became your closest friend (that wasn’t jeno), you two texted constantly and he would keep you updated on the latest ‘memes’ and ‘tiktoks’, so it was only natural to call him and talk about it. ‘y/n, are you okay? you sounded kind of panicked over the phone… where is jeno?’ jaemin looked around. he was wearing a hat, hiding his ears and hair, he had on a leather jacket and a hoodie, bundled up against the cold air outside. ‘well…’ you started, now picking at your nails nervously, ‘i don’t know, i left.’ at that he whipped his head around to look at you, bewildered, ‘dude, he’s probably worried sick!?’

you groaned and burried your head into your crossed arms, hiding from everything, ‘thats the thing, he shouldn’t be, i didn’t think he wanted me to stay, he just still feels bad about what happened, i know all i am is just a burden.’ you confessed. ‘im not meant to stay anywhere, jaemin, that kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me…’ he looked at you and sighed, grasping your hands in his, making you look at him. ‘but that stuff could happen to you. i’ve known jeno for a long time and he always believed that this type of stuff doesn’t happen to him either. i’m not on his side or anything, but i’m just saying, maybe staying wouldn’t be the worse thing y/n, you deserve love and to love… remember when i was sad about the stupidest thing and you still tried to send me a funny picture to cheer me up?’ you smiled at the memory, ‘no matter what you’ve been through, you still try to care, even if its just a little bit… maybe you should follow through with it and see where it could lead you.’ you looked down at your intertwined hands, and your vision blurred again with tears, ‘im just so scared jaemin,’ he nodded, ‘i just don’t want to get too attached to him, and then watch him leave me like everyone else.’ you admitted in a small voice, ‘i know, i know’ jeamin reassured you again, ‘but i know jeno, he follows through with his promises… you know,’ he scoffed and laughed at himself, ‘i was going to ask you to be my mate…’ you looked up at him in shock, your eyes meeting his soft brown ones, you retracted your hands from his, he waved his in front of you, not wanting to give you the wrong message, ‘but i couldnt, listen, i thought i had a crush on you, but you can’t be my mate, thats because jeno is.’ you groaned and hid your face again in your arms, forehead against the cool, metal table as you tried not to have a panic attack.

before you both could say anything, you noticed the cafe worker coming up to you, her read shoes now peeking in through your fingers, ‘um, miss? im sorry but haven’t ordered anything in almost an hour, if you aren’t going to get anything you need to leave.’ you lifted your head to look at her, she visibly cringed at the site, your hair was a mess and you had tears and snot everywhere, your eyes were probably bloodshot red and your sniffling nose matched the hue. jaemin stood up first, ‘we were just leaving’ he said sternly, grabbing your arm to get you to stand up and walk outside with him. the air was cold, you shivered, reminding you about the night you met the stranger who put you in the hospital, the fateful night when you would eventually meet jeno. You stayed close to jaemin, hyper aware of everything around you now, your ears picking up all kinds of sounds, your nose picking up all kinds of scents, some including jaemin, and you hated that you even tried to pick up jenos, but it wasn’t anywhere near you. you wondered if he was still looking for you, its been hours so he surely would’ve found you by now. you sighed in defeat, leaning your head against jaemins shoulders.

you watched him out of the corner of your eyes, getting out his phone and jumping slightly at the amount of missed calls from his own guardian, haechan. ‘hold on, i need to call him back. he called me like, so many times’ you moved away, giving him some personal space as he talked on the phone, the call lasted for a couple of minutes with jaemin mostly listening and only saying a couple words. He ended the call and sighed looking over at you, and you could tell what the call was about. you turned and walked away from him, trying again to get out of the situation, he grabbed you and pulled you by the hood of your hoodie, ‘not so fast rabbit!’ he pulled you closer, trying to get you to listen, ‘did anything i say earlier not mean anything? y/n, go back home. haechan told me that jeno is freaking out and… he might have called the cops to go out and find you…’ you sighed, not realizing the lengths jeno would go, ‘i would suggest we head there now, or you can arrive in the back of a cop car! your choice’ jaemin stated a matter of factly. ‘fuck. i hate that you’re right. kind of about everything.’ jaemin nodded, ‘i know it will be hard at first, but at least try and you’ll eventually get it, i promise.’ he gave you an encouraging smile and helped you get back home.

as you got closer and closer you could see the flashing lights from the two cop cars, you stopped on the broken side-walk which made the other rabbit stop too, ‘jaemin, i can’t go in there, this is so humiliating.’ you buried your face in your hands, face growing hot from the realization that you now have to face jeno and the cops of seoul, people who already didn’t like you that much because of your past job. jaemin grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the apartment building, ‘just ignore them, nothing will ever change with them so why does it matter?’ you groaned and let him do all the work, he stopped you from falling over when you were met with the familiar door to the tall building, ‘let me tell haechan to buzz us in.’ he stated as he typed furiously on his phone, the door was buzzed and opened within a matter of seconds, the elevator ride was silent as you grew more and more nervous to face the tall, dark haired man that you ran away from only hours before.

you both ignored the stares from the cops, the door to the apartment was open so jaemin just motioned for you to enter silently. you feared that everyone else could hear how loud your heart was beating, but probably only jaemin noticed. once you slipped inside, your eyes immediately landed on jeno at the kitchen table, biting his fingernail as he stared down at his phone, haechan nudged the older man causing him to look up at you standing in the doorway. he slowly rose from his seat, the legs scratching the floor making an ungodly sound as haechan walked past you and grabbed jaemin, and the front door closed, leaving just you and jeno. he walked to you slowly, trying not to scare you off again.

‘jeno…’ you started and looked down at your fidgeting hands, he gave you an eye smile that only existed on special occasions, despite leaving he was still happy to see you. ‘my bunny,’ he whispered and brought you in for a hug, you closed your eyes and finally embraced him back, giving him the silent confirmation that you wanted to stay, ‘i was so worried about you’ he murmured against your hair, and you could hear it perfectly. you took in his familiar scent, causing you to unknowingly rub your chin on his shoulder, in order to spread your scent on him. he didn’t seem to mind, only breaking away so you could finally talk to him, ‘you talk about cars even though i don't understand a thing, you love jelly candy, and you share your mint chocolate ice cream with me…’ his dark eyes stared back into yours, listening intently, ‘you hate math and you let me play your video games even though im really bad and i mess up your rankings, but you don’t care.’ he looked to the side and playfully remarked, ‘i only care a little bit’ you scoffed and played along, hitting his shoulder slightly as he laughed at your reaction.

the laughter died down and he continued to stare at you with such adoration and care, you thought about what jaemin said earlier, how he wasn’t your mate. jeno is. you shifted your weight from one foot to the other as jeno came closer again, gracing your cheek with his calloused hand. you could see the birthmark on his check much clearer, wanting to kiss it, instead you looked back into his eyes, through his dark bangs that tempted to cover them. he had almost the same idea as he brushed the hair from your face with his other hand, cupping your other cheek now. he leaned in and so did you, feeling less tense you melted into his touch, eventually your forehead was against his and you closed your eyes as you felt him hum. ‘my bunny…’ he was breathless and you were glad you were so close so jeno couldn’t see the major blushing that nickname had caused.

you left it alone, instead grabbing his cheeks in return, surprising him, you brought your nose up to his, and he smiled, remembering when jaemin explained what this gesture meant. you pulled away and giggled a little at how his blush now matched yours, ‘are you going to stay?’ he wanted to make sure this time, wanted to hear you say you wouldn’t leave, to promise him. ‘i thought about what you said earlier’ he nodded, ‘thank you for saving my life’. he beamed and leaned in, heart almost bursting out of his chest, you closed your eyes as he got closer, and eventually, your lips met his. your hands lightly cupping his face again while he moved his down to your waist to bring you closer. his lips were soft and he tasted like the strawberry chapstick he had bought you but kept using, it made you smile, only to make him smile in return. jeno backed up and looked at you, ‘thank you for saving mine.’

[loulou-land]

5 Times Buck Realized He Could Be Clingy + 1 Time Tommy was the Clingy One

Day 4 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Clingy Boyfriends | 4,076 words

(1) Before a Shift

Mornings like these were always the hardest for Buck. 

After days spent together—wrapped up in each other, tucked away from the world—it was too easy to get used to having Tommy there. Waking up beside him, getting to roll over to steal lazy kisses, lingering in bed until the sun had well and truly come up. Then, moving to the kitchen, sharing warm coffee, leaning into each other's spaces as they made breakfast, coming up with half-baked plans for the day that they may or may not follow through on. 

Buck had done a bit of the domesticity thing with Taylor, but it wasn’t anywhere close to what this was. He had never felt as comfortable as he did with Tommy.  And the most incredible part? How seamlessly they had fallen into it, without a second thought. 

But eventually, reality came knocking. 

And Buck hated it. 

The soft glow of their cozy bubble would be ripped away by ringing alarms and the harsh reality of shifts that wouldn't align for a while. And today, it was Tommy’s turn to leave for a shift while Buck still had the rest of the day off. 

Buck tried to be normal about it. He really did. 

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He'd stayed curled up in bed, watching as Tommy moved through his morning routine—brushing his teeth while Buck sleepily watched from the pillow; buttoning up his uniform with practiced ease, Buck following the movement of his hands spellbound; sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots, just within his reach. 

Okay, time to be cool. Rein it in, Buck thought. Wish him a good day and go back to sleep. 

Instead, before Tommy could make a move to stand, Buck latched on. 

Nothing dramatic—just a small tug at the fabric of Tommy’s shirt—just enough to stall him. 

Tommy huffed out a quiet laugh, and Buck immediately backtracked. 

“ Sorry ,” Buck laughed, sheepish. “Just…fixing your shirt. All good now.” 

It was pathetic, but his fingers still didn’t let go. 

Tommy hummed, turning slightly, looking at him consideringly. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

And Buck…he definitely should've let go by now. He didn't want to make Tommy late. Instead, his finger tightened in the fabric, just slightly. 

Tommy noticed. He always noticed. 

But he didn't call him out on his dramatics. Didn't tease him. He just reached down, cupped the side of Buck’s face, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, right over his birthmark. 

“I'll text you between calls.” Tommy promised. 

Buck swallowed down the lump in his throat, forcing himself to nod. “ Be safe .” 

Tommy kissed him again, slower this time—lingering, reassuring—before heading for the door. 

A little while later, Buck decided to brave the day. He had barely finished pouring his coffee when his phone buzzed. 

8:55 am

Tommy: Lucy brought donuts today :) (attached image: Tommy biting into a glazed donut, blue eyes sparkling happily) 

Buck huffed out a startled laugh, shaking his head at his boyfriend's massive sweet tooth. 

Buck: Looks delicious. But not as delicious as the man holding it ;) 

Tommy: Evan…behave 😤 

And that was only the beginning. 

9:47am 

Tommy: you have competition, look at how adorable he is (attached image: a orange tabby stretched out on the concrete taking a nap) 

Buck: I’m more adorable tho 🥺 right?

Buck: Tommy?? 

Buck: right?!!

10:05 am

Buck: I just watched that new documentary on black holes.

Buck: Did you know a black hole could fit in your pocket? 🤯

Tommy: That must be why I’m always losing stuff after I’ve put them in my pockets…

Buck: dork 🙄

Tommy: only for you ❤️ 

10:58am

Tommy: I’m going to kill the newbie

Buck: why? 

Buck: please don’t. I need you here, not in jail. 

Tommy: he keeps using my coffee mug 😑

Buck: wow, brave man…

11:05 am

Buck: (attached image: Buck in front of the mirror, wearing form fitting workout clothes and smirking into the camera) 

Tommy: Baby 😍  

Tommy: You don’t play fair. But two can play this game

Tommy: (attached image: Tommy wearing aviator glasses, smiling smugly, sitting in the cockpit of the helicopter) 

Buck: …you win 🥵

They continued texting every moment they could throughout the day. Tommy telling him about an interesting call they'd gotten about a naked hiker stuck up in a tree, how he regretted asking the guy how it happened, how Lucy kept teasing him for texting so much and how he couldn’t wait to see him again.  

Buck loved it.

And somewhere in the back and forth of messages, Buck realized something. 

 Tommy really was unlike anyone he'd ever met. 

Because Tommy didn't just tolerate Buck’s need to share every thought, every feeling, every random little moment—he truly wanted it. 

(2) Holding Hands

Buck was a touchy person. 

But it wasn't something he'd ever really thought about—until he started dating tommy. 

Because now, whenever they were on a date, every time they were out together, Buck found himself hyper-aware of the way their shoulders brushed as they walked side by side. The way Tommy’s warmth bled into him, a steady presence, grounding, there. 

Buck relished it. Enjoyed being close to Tommy. 

But what he really loved? 

Holding Tommy’s hand. 

There was something addicting about the feeling of it—calloused and strong, big enough to make Buck’s fingers feel almost small in comparison. It was ridiculous how much he liked that, how obsessed he was with the way his hand fit so perfectly in Tommy’s. 

It had been a revelation the first time it happened. They were walking through a farmer’s market on a lazy Sunday morning, sipping coffee and browsing fresh produce. Buck had been excitedly telling Tommy about the health benefits of squash while Tommy listened intently. It had been natural, the way Buck’s hand had found Tommy’s—automatic, easy, just right. 

And then he’d looked down at them. At their fingers interlaced together, Tommy’s grip was firm and warm. Confident and sure. 

Buck hadn't meant to stare at them, completely oblivious to the world around him. But he was amazed at how perfect it felt, like a puzzle piece finally slotting into place. Then Tommy squeezed his hand, and Buck had looked up—face flushing, embarrassed at being caught. 

Without a word, Tommy lifted their joined hands and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Buck’s hand. 

Buck tripped. 

It was just a small misstep, but Tommy definitely spotted it. 

“You good, Evan?” Tommy said grinning. 

“Yeah. Totally. That wasn't—” Buck stammered, clearing his throat. “Just, uh, uneven pavement.” 

Tommy smirked. “Mhm,” 

Buck glared at him, but it was hard to look indignant when his heart was currently doing flips inside his chest. 

That moment had opened the floodgates.  

After that Buck would reach for Tommy’s hand without even thinking about it. His fingers sliding between Tommy’s, intertwining, squeezing just slightly. Holding on for as long as he could. 

If Tommy needed to open a door, reach for something or take out his wallet Buck would relinquish his hold for a few seconds before immediately latching on again. 

Tommy always smiled, a small little pleased thing. 

So Buck kept doing it. He reached for him when walking together. When they were waiting in line for coffee. In the car, driving to places. While out at the bar with their family and friends. At home, snuggling on the couch or laying in bed.  

And every time, Tommy let him. 

No teasing. No hesitation. 

Just a gentle squeeze back, like he never wanted to let go either. 

(3) After a Bad Call

Some shifts turned out bad.

Buck had accepted that a long time ago.

But knowing it didn’t make it any easier.

It didn’t make it easier when a call went south, when a victim slipped away no matter how hard they tried. It didn’t make it easier when he could still hear the sounds of screaming or see the way that life slipped through his fingers.

It didn’t make it easier when the self-doubt crept in, making its home in him, when his chest tightened with the weight of it all, when the voices whispered in his ear—you should’ve done more, you should’ve been better, you should’ve saved them.

Sometimes, those voices sounded exactly like his parents.

Other times, it was just his own.

And on those nights, Buck needed something solid. He craved something warm. Something that told him he was still here. That he still mattered. 

But asking for comfort had never been easy for him. Especially when Buck felt like he didn’t deserve it. When he felt like he was making things once again all about himself. 

So when he walked through the door, carrying the weight of that night’s failure, he didn’t say anything.

Buck dropped his keys on the counter. Stood with his hands flat on it as he stared unseeing at the grainy dots of the countertop. Then he rubbed a hand over his face like that would somehow scrub the frustration off of him.

Buck tensed when he felt strong arms circle his waist and got pulled into a steady chest. He matched his breathing to Tommy’s and felt himself slowly relaxing and letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders. 

It helped that Tommy didn’t ask.

He just took one look at Buck and knew.

Knew what Buck needed, even if he couldn’t say it.

“C’mere .”

Buck didn’t even hesitate.

He turned around and let himself be pulled in, let himself be wrapped up in Tommy’s arms.

And for a while, he just stood there, breathing Tommy in, grounding himself in the warmth of his chest, not thinking about anything other than Tommy Tommy Tommy . 

Eventually, Tommy kissed his temple, then nudged him toward the bathroom.

“Hot shower first. Then I’ve got you.”

And Buck froze for a second, completely amazed at the concept that someone had him. 

After the shower, Buck found his favorite sweatpants and hoodie waiting for him. The ones that were soft and well-worn, the ones that felt safe. The ones he’d hide in when he was feeling particularly raw and bereft. His heart picked up speed at the thought that Tommy had picked up on that. Had remembered. 

There was a cup of soothing tea on the nightstand.

But most importantly?

There was Tommy.

Sitting on the bed, waiting with open arms, like he already knew exactly where Buck needed to be.

Buck didn’t fight it anymore. 

He climbed into bed, curled into Tommy’s chest, let himself feel it— the warmth, the comfort, the weight of arms holding him together when he felt like he was falling apart at the seams. 

Tommy didn’t say anything, just rubbed slow circles into his back, a steady touch that anchored him, that reminded him he was here.

At some point, Buck let the pain in him crack open.

He exhaled shakily, pressed his face into Tommy’s neck, wrapped his fingers in his shirt and let himself cry.

And Tommy just held him.

Didn’t judge him, didn’t rush him, didn’t tell him to pull himself together, didn’t make him feel any less for showing emotions, didn’t say it was fine because it wasn’t.

Tommy just held on tighter to Buck. 

And when Buck’s breathing evened out, when the exhaustion started creeping in, Tommy finally spoke—low, soft, certain.

“You did everything you could, baby.”

“You’re a damn good firefighter, Evan.”

“I’ve got you. I’m here.” 

And Buck—warm and safe, pressed against the only person who had ever made him feel like he could just be, that he didn’t have to hold it all in—let himself believe it.

(4) In Public

Buck had never really been big on PDA.

Not because he was uncomfortable with it—he just hadn’t really been the type. With past partners, he’d hold hands, drape an arm around their shoulder, maybe rest a hand on their lower back. A quick kiss on the cheeks or lips. But that was it. 

With Tommy, it was different. He just— wanted. All the time.  

It was like some switch had flipped in his brain. Like his body just instinctively sought Tommy out. Tommy was Earth, and Buck was his moon, caught in his orbit. 

He couldn’t help it.

Wherever they were, Buck was aware of him.

Tommy could be across the room, deep in conversation with Bobby, or standing at the truck joking around with Eddie, and Buck would still know exactly where he was at all times.

(Chimney had once called it his Built-In Tommy Radar™.)

Which, granted, was very dramatic.

But also, not entirely untrue.

And really, he blamed Tommy. He’d totally conditioned Buck. Because every time their eyes met across the room, Tommy would give him that smile.

The soft, scrunchy one, the one that was just for him.

And Buck?

Buck was a lost cause. 

What else was he supposed to do but make his way to Tommy? To kiss that smile that was his and his alone, to sigh happily into his mouth, to melt under Tommy’s touch—the warm press of his hands on Buck’s hips, the rest of the world fading away. 

So yeah. Maybe he was a PDA guy.

Maybe he did like having Tommy’s arms around him, the way he got pulled in effortlessly as Tommy talked to Chim, Hen or Eddie, like it was second nature, like he was proud to have Buck in his arms. 

And maybe he did like the steady hand on his lower back when walking through a crowd, the way Tommy would subtly shift in front of him, protective without even thinking about it (and though Buck could take care of himself, there was something about the action that made him feel cared for), the soft kiss to the side of his head when there was a lull in conversation. 

He also loved the dorky, completely endearing compliments Tommy gave Buck regardless of whoever was standing within listening distance, they always left him grinning like an idiot. 

 He doesn’t ever remember being as giddy as he gets when Tommy flirts with him—making him feel as nervous as their very first date. 

And maybe—just maybe—he was a little obsessed with Tommy’s hugs.

(Okay, a lot obsessed.)

Because Tommy gave the best hugs.

Big and warm, arms wrapped around him like a shield, like Buck was something precious.

So yeah, he sought them out. Constantly. And maybe that happened to be when they were around people. So what. It was always a good time to get a Tommy hug. 

And Tommy never denied him.

So Buck kept doing it. 

One time, Buck had been trapped in a long-winded Chimney movie rant, which was fine, except he really missed Tommy and wanted to be in his arms. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fascinating. Uh…excuse me, I gotta go ask Tommy something…” he said, turning in the direction of where he knew Tommy was. 

Chimney stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. “You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?” 

Buck blinked. “Hmm? What?’

Chimney sighed. “Go on. Find Tommy. I’m stealing him later.” He pointed a finger at Buck. “Heactually appreciates my movie discussions.” 

Buck snorted. “Good luck with that.” He patted Chim’s shoulder and happily took off. 

He found Tommy in the kitchen, drinking a glass of wine and talking to Hen. Without hesitation, Buck slotted himself into his side.

Tommy didn't even pause—just wrapped an arm around him, tugged him in closer, and kept talking.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world, to have a Buck shaped limpet attached to his side. 

Which, to be fair, it kind of was now.

Hen just raised an eyebrow. “You really can’t go five minutes without touching him, huh?”

“Nope,” Buck said easily.

Tommy just smiled, pressed a kiss to the top of Buck’s head, and kept rubbing slow circles into his back.

Buck grinned, nuzzling into Tommy’s neck, unable to mask the joy he felt in simple moments like this—where he objectively knew he was maybe being a bit too much, but had learned that in Tommy’s eyes? 

It was never enough. 

(5) After the Breakup 

After the breakup—and after Tommy realized his mistake, and after Buck ignored what everyone else was telling him and went to get his man back, and after the screaming-crying match outside Tommy’s house, followed by clothes ripping, up against the door, we’re-having-sex-and-getting-back-together moment—Buck’s clinginess ramped up. 

Not in a bad way. Not in a suffocating, unhealthy way.

Just in a he-knows-what-life-without-Tommy-feels-like-and-doesn’t-want-to-go-through-that-ever-again way.

And luckily for him, Tommy felt exactly the same.

Which was why, after a week of barely seeing each other because of their shifts, Buck was on the verge of losing it. He needed his Tommy time. It was a necessity at this point. 

Buck was so ready to make up for lost time.

Usually, when this happened, they’d spend a full 48 hours wrapped up in each other. No interruptions, no responsibilities—just them.

But this time?

This time, the universe had conspired against them. 

Buck didn’t know what god's he’d pissed off, but he’d love to make them an offering because this? This was just unfair. 

Instead of catching up properly—with a nice dinner (Tommy for desert), a relaxing movie (which they wouldn’t really watch, because Buck would be riding Tommy), a long shower (where Tommy would suck him dry), and finally going to bed (making love until they wrung a couple of orgasm of each other)—they’d fallen asleep. 

They’d both come off exhausting shifts that had gone into overtime, stumbled into bed, shared a sleepy kiss, and promptly passed out. 

Of course, the next morning, they’d overslept.

Which meant no lazy morning kisses, no waking Tommy up with a blowjob, no time to soak each other in, and—worst of all—no shower quickie.

Nope. Rather, they’d had to rush out the door to make it to Bobby and Athena’s BBQ. 

“Can’t we just stay in this time?” Buck pouted. “I can just tell them I got sick.”

Tommy chuckled, “Baby, we did that last time. And they didn’t believe it.” 

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were such a bad actor? Buck huffed. “I told you to sound nasally, not British.” 

Tommy shrugged, throwing him a long-suffering smile. “Well, now you know why I’m a pilot and not an actor,” he said drily. 

Buck slumped in the passenger seat, fidgeting with Tommy’s fingers “I just want you all to myself. I feel like I haven’t seen in forever,” he whined. 

“I know, sweetheart. I feel the same.” Tommy squeezed his hand. “But if we don’t make an appearance, we’re getting disowned.”

“Fine,” Buck grumbled. 

And now, Buck was suffering.

He was pretty sure his family had conspired to ruin his life. Because tell him why everyone kept stealing Tommy away.

First, Chimney cornered him to talk about the greatest horror movies of the ‘90s (Who cares, Buck thought viciously.) 

Then, Eddie pulled him aside for car talk. (C’mon man, you guys have your own bro day for this!) 

After that, Maddie and Karen had claimed him, dragging him into a corner with wine and gossip (And okay, fine, Buck couldn’t compete with that right now—Tommy did love juicy gossip.) 

But Buck? 

Buck was two seconds away from doing some maiming. 

He tried to be patient.

Tried to play it cool.

But after an hour of barely seeing Tommy? When they’d come here together? 

Enough was enough.

So when they finally sat down to eat, Buck plopped himself right into Tommy’s lap.

Just. Dropped right in.

Complete silence around the table. 

Until— 

“Oh my god.” Chimney, squawked. 

“Can you two be normal for five minutes?” Eddie sighed.

“Buckaroo, you do know there’s an empty chair right there?” Athena said, dryly. 

“I’m surprised he lasted this long without touching Tommy,” Hen smirked. 

Bobby just shook his head and passed the potatoes to Maddie. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Maddie said, completely unbothered.

Tommy just laughed, wrapping an arm around Buck’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Missed me, babe?”

“You have no idea,” Buck sighed dramatically, melting against him.

The table collectively groaned.

“Disgusting.” Hen.

“Sickening.” Chimney.

“Truly vile.” Eddie.

“You’re all just jealous,” Buck mumbled into Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy chuckled, dropping a kiss to the side of Buck’s head, keeping one hand on his waist and pulling their plate closer to share. 

Buck grinned.

Yeah, he was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

(+1) After the Breakup - Tommy’s Version

Tommy woke up first.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he found himself staring at Evan. 

Evan, who was sleeping peacefully beside him, face soft and relaxed, his lips curved into the smallest, barely-there smile.

His head was pillowed on Tommy’s arm, his fingers curled loosely around Tommy’s waist, even in sleep still holding on.

Tommy exhaled, slow and careful, like if he moved too fast, it would all disappear.

Because some part of him—the stupid, still-scared part of him—was afraid this wasn’t real, that this was all a dream, a hallucination, a cruel trick of his own mind.

How could Evan really be here—in his house, in his bed, in his arms?

But no. He remembered.

Tommy remembered opening the door yesterday and coming face to face with an angry, teary-eyed Evan.

He remembered the way Evan had yelled at him—loud and emotional and so heartbreakingly honest.

“You don’t get to make that choice for me, Tommy! You don’t get to decide that you won’t be my last!”

And Tommy had broken down. Had said things he never meant to say out loud.

Had told Evan that he deserved better.

And Evan had shouted right back—loud, frustrated but completely sure of himself.

“I don’t want ‘better.’ I want you. Not some mythical, perfect person out there. You—Tommy. You’re already my perfectly imperfect guy. I love you.”

And Tommy—God.

Tommy had wanted to believe him. Had wanted to trust it.

So he’d made a choice. Because living without Evan had been the worst experience of his life.

And now, here they were.

Evan made a soft sound, stirring awake.

Tommy watched as his eyelashes fluttered, as his breathing shifted, as blue eyes slowly blinked open.

And then Evan saw him. And smiled, bright and beaming and easy, like he’d never once doubted Tommy was going to be here.

God.

How could Tommy have ever let this go?

He lifted a hand, fingers tracing the shape of Evan’s lips, his nose, the sharp line of his jaw. He followed the slope of his eyebrow, the curve of the pink mark above it.

Evan hummed happily, leaning into his touch.

And something in Tommy cracked wide open. Now that he could finally touch again, he couldn’t stop.

Not in the desperate, frantic way they had last night, when their hands had been all urgency, all need, all pent-up longing and desperation.

No. This was softer.

This was Tommy relearning Evan—as if he could ever truly forget him—his hands traveling slowly, memorizing and rediscovering all at once.

The curve of Evan’s hip. The dip of his spine. The warmth of his skin under Tommy’s palm.

Evan preened under the attention, sighing happily, and Tommy just soaked him in.

They lay there for a while, watching each other, saying everything without really saying a word.

Until finally, Evan made a move to sit up.

Tommy hadn’t even realized he made a noise—something small, something desperate, something aching—until Evan stopped instantly.

“Hey.” Evan’s voice was soft, questioning. “What’s wrong?”

Tommy swallowed.

His throat felt tight.

“Just—” He hesitated, but only for a second, then let himself be honest.

“Stay. A little while longer. Please.”

Evan smiled, soft and knowing. “Of course, honey.”

He opened his arms, and Tommy fell into them, into warmth and safety and home. Fell into the one place he never wanted to leave again.

Evan’s arms came up around him, holding him just as tightly as Tommy was holding on to him.

Tommy pressed his face into the crook of Evan’s neck, exhaling slow, letting himself breathe, letting himself believe.

He had Evan.

Because Evan had chosen him.

And this time?

Tommy wasn’t letting him go.

[mourningsbane]

Is it intentional that Honeyspring's stripes look like a rib cage?

It is! I am a little shocked anyone noticed, so kudos! :D

I believe that Honeyspring's in-game sprite has traditional, classic tabby markings, but her sprite is forward-facing, and I cannot actually see their side! So, when simplifying her sprite into a concrete design, I just gave her rib cage-looking stripes for fun! I thought it made them look a little more ghoulish.

[yoomiwrites]

My boring love³

Summary: (Y/N), a reserved shop worker, catches Hawks' attention as he seeks distraction from his hero duties.

Note: A lil update for this as well. It's a short chapter. But it's a chapter.

𓆩⚝𓆪

The day had been long, and the earlier commotion outside the shop had thrown off her usual rhythm. By the time evening rolled around, (Y/N) decided to close up early. Foot traffic had slowed to a trickle, and she wasn’t in the mood to wait around for the occasional customer.

She flipped the sign to CLOSED, locked the door, and stepped out into the cool evening air. The streets were quieter now, the buzz of the day giving way to the softer hum of the approaching night. The sky glowed with the warm hues of sunset, streaks of orange and pink bleeding into deepening blue.

Her breath puffed in front of her as she started the walk home. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly—work, her perpetually foggy glasses, the lingering taste of stale chocolate—but they snapped into focus when a sharp hiss pierced the quiet.

Her steps faltered.

The sound came again, joined by an urgent, distressed meow.

(Y/N) stopped, glancing around. The noises were close—too close to ignore. She clenched her fists at her sides, willing herself to keep walking.

“It’s not my cat,” she muttered under her breath, the words sounding hollow even to her. “I don’t even like cats.”

She took a few more steps, but the sounds followed her, more insistent now.

Her shoulders sagged. She barely had enough money to keep herself afloat; she couldn’t take on the responsibility of an animal, let alone one that was likely a stray.

But despite all her reasoning, her feet turned toward the alley from where the sounds were coming. She couldn’t leave it.

The alley was narrow and dark, wedged between two tall buildings that loomed overhead. Trash bins lined the walls, and the faint smell of damp concrete lingered in the air. She squinted into the dimness, her pulse quickening.

“Hello?” she called softly, feeling foolish as soon as the word left her mouth.

A low hiss answered her, followed by more frantic meowing. She edged closer, her footsteps hesitant but steady.

At last, she saw it: the orange tabby from earlier. Its fur was puffed up, its back arched defensively as it faced off against a larger, mangy-looking gray cat. The gray cat hissed again, swiping a paw at the tabby, which darted back but didn’t retreat.

“Hey, knock it off!” (Y/N) said, her voice sharper than she expected.

Both cats froze, their heads snapping toward her. The gray cat growled low in its throat, but after a moment, it backed off, slinking into the shadows.

The orange tabby stayed where it was, its wide eyes fixed on her.

“There,” she said, taking a step closer. “You’re fine now. Go on, shoo.”

But the cat didn’t move.

She sighed, crouching down. “Seriously? You’re just going to sit there?”

The tabby blinked at her, its tail flicking once.

“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, reaching out hesitantly. The cat didn’t resist as she picked it up, though its body was tense in her arms.

It was lighter than she expected, its frame bony under its fur. Her heart twisted despite herself.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she told it firmly as she straightened up. “I’m just making sure you don’t get into more trouble.”

The tabby pressed its face into her coat, its purring a soft vibration against her chest.

She sighed again, already regretting her decision.

The alley felt darker as (Y/N) turned to leave, the orange tabby snug against her chest. Her steps were cautious, the dim light barely enough to guide her back toward the street.

Then she heard it.

At first, it was indistinct—just faint murmurs, carried by the wind. But something about it prickled at the back of her neck. Her instincts screamed at her to stop.

She froze, her grip tightening on the cat. Its warmth was a small comfort, but her heart thudded loudly in her chest. She pressed herself against the wall, straining to hear.

"...can't leave loose ends," a low voice said, smooth and cold.

Her stomach twisted.

Another voice answered, lighter, familiar—a voice that sent her pulse skittering. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. But you really think this is the best way to handle it?”

Her breath hitched. Hawks.

It was him, unmistakably. But the way he spoke was different—less breezy, more deliberate. Her fingers dug into the tabby’s fur as she listened, her blood running cold.

“We’ve already started down this road,” the first voice said, sharp with finality. “This kill will prove your loyalty. No room for doubts.”

Loyalty. Kill. The words swirled in her mind, incomprehensible. Hawks? Killing someone?

There was silence, then Hawks’s voice again, quieter but laced with something she couldn’t place. “I’m not doubting. Just saying we need to be smart about it.”

(Y/N)’s head spun. What was this? What was he doing here, talking about something so...terrifying?

The cat chose that moment to meow.

The sound was small, barely more than a squeak, but in the stillness of the alley, it might as well have been a gunshot.

(Y/N) flinched, her whole body tensing. The voices stopped abruptly.

She held her breath, her heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Nothing.

No voices. No footsteps.

The silence was suffocating.

And then—just for a split second—she felt it: the weight of someone’s gaze.

Panic surged through her. She bolted, clutching the cat tightly as she sprinted out of the alley. Her boots slapped against the pavement, the cold air stinging her lungs.

She didn’t stop until she reached her apartment.

Fumbling with her keys, she slammed the door shut behind her, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The tabby wriggled free, leaping to the floor and watching her with wide, unblinking eyes.

Her thoughts were a chaotic mess: Hawks’s voice, the conversation, the terrifying realization that he had seen her.

Because she knew.

And worse, so did he.

[celestialdaily]

The celestial object of the day is Tabby's star!

"Also known as KIC 8462852, Boyajian's star, or WTF star, this star in the constellation of Cygnus presents variations in dimness of up to 22%! There's no concrete reason behind this phenomenon yet; some scientists propose a dust ring, a disintegrating exomoon, planetary debris, or even an artificial megastructure!

[ltwilliammowett]

It is Ship's cat sunday and here is a pic of stowaway Perce Blackborow on Shackleton's Endurance with Mrs. Chippy, the ship's cat, before 1915

More about Chippy below

The tabby domestic cat had been brought on board by Harry McNish, the ship's carpenter known as "Chippy", and was given her name before it was discovered that she was a male. Mrs Chippy is described as a handsome, affectionate and good-natured cat. He proved to be a good catcher of mice and rats and was a favourite among the crew. The men were amused by the way Mrs Chippy seemed to enjoy strutting across the roofs of the kennels, always just out of reach of the rampaging dogs. What's more, the cat's climbing skills, even in the roughest seas, earned him respect. At the beginning of the voyage, on 13 September 1914, Mrs Chippy jumped through a porthole and fell into the sea. The officer on watch, Huberht Hudson (1886-1942), turned the ship around and had the cat brought back on board with the fishing net of biologist Robert Clark (1882-1950).

When the Endurance, which had already been trapped by pack ice in January 1915, could no longer withstand the pressure and sank at the end of October, Shackleton ordered all animals of no concrete use - three puppies, the sled dog Sirius, who could not be harnessed like the others, and Mrs Chippy - to be shot. In his book South, he later quoted his diary, saying that under the new circumstances they could not have afforded to feed "weaklings". The captain of the Endurance, Frank Worsley, defended Shackleton's decision in 1931 by pointing out that the cat would have been eaten by the dogs without the protection of the ship. In the case of Mrs Chippy and the puppies, it fell to Second Officer Thomas Crean to carry out the sentence.

Harry McNish never forgave the expedition leader. His resentment led to growing tensions between the two men, which one day culminated in an attempt by McNish to openly disobey orders. Although as a carpenter he undoubtedly played an important part in the successful rescue of the entire crew of the Endurance, he was one of the few who were not honoured with the Polar Medal for "disloyalty". He died in Wellington, New Zealand, in 1930 and was given a pauper's burial in the Karori Cemetery there. It was not until 1959 that the New Zealand Antarctic Society donated a gravestone to the veteran. In 2004, the society commissioned sculptor Chris Elliott to create a life-size bronze sculpture of Mrs Chippy, which has adorned McNish's grave ever since.

[catfindr]

[noisyquokka]

The In-Betweens

PAIRING - Minho x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - After a year of cat and mouse, Minho realizes his mistake too late. Will he be able to convince you that he's invested in something more?

WORDCOUNT - 7.7k

WARNINGS - Angst, hurt/comfort, some fluff, a lil suggestive, miscommunication, One Night Stand turns to No Strings Attached turns to Fear of Commitment, Minho is bad with serious romantic relationships, emotional-support Soonie (it's a warning in its own right, thank you very much!)

A/N - It's been a while friends, but I'm back...? And I'm bringing the angst train with me! I've written a lot (and I mean A LOT!) of fluffy, happy, cute shit over the years of having this Tumblr, and I've been absolutely hankering for some good angst because I'm a little masochist who loves ripping my own heart out and splattering it onto concrete. So without further ado…

The 8th floor apartment is deathly silent for being situated in the heart of Seoul, Minho thinks. Or perhaps it's the indisputable ringing in his ears that scrambles his senses. He shoulders the front door closed, leaning back into it once the mechanism latches as tired optics scan the dimly lit space. 

The apartment sat the same as it always had at this hour - shadows crawling up beige walls, reaching toward the empty sofa that Minho swore he would replace at some point. The damn thing is about as comfortable as a cardboard box. 

Still, Minho found himself stalking towards the godforsaken thing, tossing his jacket over the back as he crashed against the back of the couch like a crumbling building. An exasperated grunt leaves his lungs, muscle and bones sinking into the weaved cushions like soil reclaiming his remains. 

Gone. 

The apartment was so quiet because you were gone. No longer a home as he had began to think every time he walked in to see your shoes by the door, or a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet next to his. You weren't humming along to the playlist you'd put on whilst making dinner for the two of you. Because you left. Brown eyes close at the realization. Not that Minho had to realize it, no. It was merely a reminder along with the white-noise that whirred within his eardrums as he stumbled closer and closer to his apartment door every night. 

The whirring in his ears stopped only at the weight of a furry shadow against his calf and then his chest. Brown optics met green feline ones as Soonie hopped onto the couch beside his caretaker. Minho visibly relaxed at the cat's presence, deft fingers conforming to orange tabby fur. Content purrs vibrated through one being into the other, melding the two souls into one.

"Soonie..." He breathes, melting even further into the couch as Soonie nuzzles his head against Minho's jaw, white-socked paws kneading softly into his clothed chest. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

The question was more rhetorical than anything. Of course, you fucked up, dumbass! You led them on for months. It was stupid of him to think that you would stick around after months of the push and pull. To be frank, Minho didn't expect this fling to last as long as it did - nevermind evolve into more. 

What could he say? 

He began to enjoy your company a little more than he anticipated. Those moments with you were ingrained in every wrinkle of his brain, more than half of them in this very apartment. Hell, you had never moved in with him, but the amount of time you spent here made it seem as such. Along with the amount of personal belongings that slowly accumulated. He remembers the night he'd teased you about it.

"Not even three months and you're already moving in?" His breath tickles the skin at the back of your neck, chills raising over the exposed flesh as he presses a chaste kiss there. You shudder at the contact, attempting to keep your focus on the eggs currently sizzling over the stove top. The Seoul skyline burns with the start of a new day, casting a persimmon glow through the apartment.

"Mm, I wouldn't consider a toothbrush and a few clothes 'moving in', Minho." You counter, reaching down for the arm that rests over your waist, holding you against him. "Offer's tempting though. Your shower's a hell of a lot better than mine."

Lips twitch at your comment, a faux smirk that chokes him out.

What the fuck...

You had stayed the night again - the fifteenth time in a row now, Minho notes. Not that it bothered him; having a warm body to lie with in place of cold sheets. It had the muscle in his chest working overtime, pumping blood to every last inch of his being, washing over him like a drug. 

That was what bothered him. 

Before you get a chance to turn around, nimble fingers reach for the spatula in your grip, a murmur of, "I got it". A sly grin. That arm around your waist leaves you as the man's attention is taken up with finishing breakfast. 

The usual sounds of the kitchen take over - the sizzling skillet, dishes and utensils clinking, low-fi thumping through the Bluetooth speaker on the kitchen island. Feline trills are a welcome sound as you pull the dishes out of the overhead cupboard. Orange cream hops onto the kitchen counter and nuzzles against your torso in greeting. You glance down to meet sea glass and twitching whiskers.

"Morning, handsome." You coo, fingers carding through the short hairs atop his head. Soonie meows in response, stretching his neck into your palm as you massage his cranium in circular motions. He purrs at the contact, completely mesmerized by your magic fingers. Minho catches the interaction from the corner of his eye, lips pulling back in a grin. 

You hum to yourself as you continue - one hand petting the greedy feline, the other pulling the dishes needed from the cupboard - and Minho can't help his gaze from straying to the source of the sound.

Fucking stunning, he thinks to himself, spatula resting against the edge of the pan. Sun-kissed legs sway along with your hips as you get lost in the beat of the seemingly endless playlist. 

And he gets lost in you.

He swallows as his gaze travels upwards. The shirt that covered your shoulders had belonged to him at one point, baggy and loosely hanging low enough to hide the expanse of your thighs. Were you even wearing shorts? He couldn't recall if they were still strewn somewhere in the hallway with the rest of your discarded garments from the night prior. No matter, it seemed you'd staked your claim to his clothes like Soonie claims the warm, sunny spot near the window in the living room. Even farther, and Minho finds himself at your neck and jaw - the flesh there peppered in deep hues of red and purple. A temporary claim of his own. He grins at the thought -

"-Minho!"  

"Ah, fuck!"

You're beside him in an instant, turning the burner off and rushing the skillet to the sink. Cold water douses raging heat, burnt eggs slipping over the edge of the pan into the sink along with bits of melted plastic. You sigh, leaning against the marbled countertop. You feel Minho's presence over your shoulder, a sigh of his own leaving him. A quiet moment passes, save for the fading sounds of the cooling pan hissing.

"When you said you had it, I sure as hell didn't expect you to mean you were cooking the spatula." You chide, turning to face him. He chuffs at your comment, eyebrows raising as the space between the two of you dwindles to none. 

"I'll have you know that you are the worst distraction this side of interstellar space." 

'Fuck, did I just say that? Out loud?' Minho swears his head is spinning, the scent from your body wash egging it on in the close proximity. 

Your gaze narrows on him and you tilt your head, instinctually wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him impossibly closer. Contact that has the man inwardly keening. Like fucking magic, you were.

"Oh, so I'm the problem, huh?" You say, mock disbelief laced in your tone. Your ability to keep the energy playful was godly, even as Minho felt the snare tighten around his neck. You don't seem to notice though, and he keeps up with your banter ten-fold, warm hands settling on your waist. The fabric of your shirt bunches in his grip.

"The biggest problem, baby," He mutters, leaning so close that his breath fans over your lips. His grip on you is firm, one hand traveling up the side of your body until it finds a home at the junction of your neck and shoulder. He feels your pulse sing beneath the skin. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were distracting me on purpose."

He watches you roll your eyes, even as you lean into that touch, a hint of a grin on your lips. Heat floods the back of his neck when you run your fingers through the dark tresses of hair that reside there. Minho catches the groan in the back of his throat.

"Are you sure you're not just... terrible at focusing?" You prod, smoothing down the wrinkles in his t-shirt before your eyes lock with his again. There's a spark in yours - notes of collected mischief that only you could hold for the man in front of you.

"I am more than capable of focusing," He says, but as large hands squeeze the flesh at your waist, you read his actions well enough. 

His hand on your neck moves north, capturing your chin in his fingertips to angle your head upward. Brown optics bore into yours, flitting down to bitten lips, long fingers smoothing the skin with delicate strokes. Then, he's leaning down, and you barely have time to react to the all-encompassing feeling of his mouth on yours. 

He's already deepening the kiss, a rumble within his ribs that sounds like the purring of a cat at the sensation of your nails embedding themselves in the back of his head, teeth grazing the plush of his bottom lip. He revels in the sound that leaves your chest - something between a groan and a sigh. Minho feels himself crashing, the floor beneath him shaky as if a sinkhole is ready to give way. 

This feels too domestic. 

Too real. 

His lungs shrivel in his chest, heart thundering behind its marrow cage with a vengeance. Buried six feet below the surface, alive and struggling to survive long enough to dig himself out. But you've got him ensnared - every time he attempts his escape, you're pulling that cord tighter - like a raptor struggling to break the net caught around its wings. The feeling akin to... anxiety, was it? He needs out and you're not allowing it. 

Minho feels you pull back before he has the chance, heads in a collective haze as you laugh breathily. Foreheads connect, a semblance of comfort for the man; grounding him to the present moment. The apartment is quiet again, aside from two erratic hearts beating and a feline purring somewhere. Finally, you speak up - whispered words kissing his cheeks.

"Got any baking soda?" 

Those brown eyes blink open at your question, brows creasing against your forehead. 

"For?"

"Saving your skillet."

He chuckles, velvet and silk bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, and you can't help how much you love the sound. 

"Bottom cabinet next to the fridge. Middle shelf." 

Minho thinks that your smile never looks as genuine as when you direct it at him. So much authenticity from one individual... for one individual. Was that even possible? 

The cabinet door shuts with a thud, bringing him back to you and the current mess. You work like a well-oiled machine - pulling the handle of what was once the plastic spatula out of the pan, emptying the soggy eggs and water. Minho watched from over your shoulder as you filled the pan just enough to cover the melted plastic and mixed in the right amount of baking soda before placing the pan back on the stove. In reality, you didn't need to do this. Minho would buy a new one if he had to. But you were so quick to fix the mess he'd made, he didn't even bother telling you to stop.

"There! Once it starts to simmer," You clasp your hands together, turning away from the active burner with a look of pride, "the plastic should come up and your skillet will be saved."

The kitchen stared back at him, shrouded in a void. Even without the lights on, Minho could see the demons in the deepest shadows, phantoms that swirled and floated over the space like lions hiding in tall savannah grasses, surveying. Sizing up potential prey. 

And Minho was the prime rib of a wildebeest grazing away from its herd, none the wiser to the salivating maws camouflaged in the desert brush. 

He spots that same skillet on the stovetop - melted plastic a distant memory as you did, indeed, save it. Now, he wishes he'd bought a new one. 

You and Minho had agreed to keep this fling 'no strings attached' from the beginning. And while you had agreed, he couldn't help but notice the difference in your behaviour as the weeks progressed to months. Perhaps you had just gotten more comfortable with him. Let your walls fall the more you got to know him. All Minho knew was that the way you treated him made his chest fuzzy, like carbonation rising to the top of a just-opened soda can. 

The first time he'd felt that was five months in - a simple text message... 

'Can we talk?'

In any other circumstance, Minho would've been unbothered by those three words. Can we talk. It was what you'd expect from your spouse when things weren't going too hot, or an ex wanting to explain themselves, wanting another chance. Someone who wanted to end things. His heart had never tightened in his chest like it had that evening. 

He wondered if he had done something to offend you. Expected you to tell him things weren't working for you and this whole fling was over and done. In the anxiety of it all, he still managed a calm reply of, 'Yeah. Whenever you're ready.'

The reality was that you just needed an outlet to rant about the shit day you'd had at work. Something about your supervisor expecting more from you than the rest of the team you were working alongside. Minho barely comprehended what you were upset about, too enthralled by the searing embers in your eyes through the video call and the passion in your chest as you spoke about the job that you loved and the people that made it less enjoyable for you. If anyone would have walked into his apartment and saw him, they would've thought he was talking with his spouse. The man held nothing but admiration and respect in his eyes for the person on the other end of the call. 

He'd only realized how little he'd been listening when you huffed in exhaustion, heavy palms pressing into sleep-ridden optics. 

"Alright, alright, I'm done ranting for tonight." You'd mumbled, lips twitching into a shy smile. You were never shy with him, what with the way your first meeting ended with the both of you in his bed. And yet you sat in your room, picking at the skin of your cuticles and tried your darndest to evade those brown eyes like a child being scolded by an adult. You had just unloaded about something that didn't even pertain to the guy, never mind your relationship with him. 

He probably doesn't even care. Why did I text him, of all people?

"For tonight?" Dark brows shot up in amusement, a smirk slashing his lips. "So I should expect another call tomorrow?" 

"N-no! That's not what I meant, Minho."

He watched on as you fidgeted with the charging cable that had been connected to your phone, still avoiding his gaze. You had been frazzled, but Minho's teasing had twisted the frayed wires that made up your nerves and grounded you a bit; he could tell. Finally, your gaze slipped from the oh-so-fascinating charging cable and back to him. Somewhere in Minho's foggy mind, letters subconsciously swirled into syllables - and syllables into words - until a full phrase was crafted. Sitting there in a ribcage that fluttered with butterflies. Longing eyes stared at one another through a screen, two people separated by a few city blocks. The phrase weaved through glass and pixels - every molecule that inevitably made up a sentence slithered up vocal chords only to get snuffed out in the last second once you spoke up.

"Thank you."

Minho's ears had twitched at those words, the genuine whole-heartedness in your tone. It had just about bowled him over. He recovered, though; back to his playful and teasing self. A simple jerk of the shoulder. 

"It's no problem."

The connection had gone dead for a moment, your smile frozen in a fraction of time even as your voice rolled through the speaker again.

"I'm being genuine, you know."  The connection returns and Minho remembers to breathe. "All teasing aside, I don't normally rant about my frustrations to my hookups..."

"Well, I'm happy to help you release your frustrations in more ways than one."

"Aaand I'm hanging up!" 

He had to chuckle at the memory, even as the demons on his shoulders cackle like jesters. Something shifted that night. Minho didn't know exactly what that shift meant for his relationship with you, but he felt it in every interaction from that moment on. He still feels it now as the blue light of his phone glares back at him. His thumb scrolls aimlessly through his social feed, posts and photos flying by in a blink.

It's not the distraction he was hoping for. The search bar at the top of the screen beckons him; just one tap of the finger, and their profile is at the top of your history. It has the muscles in his hand twitching. 

With a few swipes, all background apps are closed and the phone is put to sleep. He shoves the device away with a heaving sigh. Things were going... good? 

Weren't they?

This was what he had wanted, right?

It was a fling. No strings to complicate it. Just a way to pass time. To not be alone.

Shaky hands press into distressed denim, nails tearing the fibers apart as he wracks his brain. He digs deeper and deeper, excavating the mountainous terrain of thoughts and memories that he's had over the past year with you. Evidence that one could hold against him if he denied his feelings. Feelings were dangerous.

We weren't lovers. We were just two strangers wanting to fill spare time in our lives.

If the worst lies can torch the soul, Minho was a living effigy; burning alive with each lie he tells himself, affirmations to rewire the way he thinks about you. It's the homecoming to Hell and he'll be lucky to walk away from such torment. Demons get off on torment, after all.

You never thought you'd get attached, did you?

His shoulders set, muscles beneath the skin knotted with tension. The ringing swallows his hearing again. Soonie can't calm the death rattle this time, as much as he tries to.

His excavating turns impulsive and desperate; the metaphorical rocks, mud, and clay displaced from the caverns ceilings, only to crush him under its weight. The earth shifts as he attempts his escape, but he's only digging himself a deeper grave. He's fucking helpless. And yet, through the haze, he spots the ray of light that promises comfort and release.

A tear tracks down his cheek as he reaches for the discarded phone once more. Deft fingers navigate back to the homepage of his socials. One tap of the search bar. Another tap on the first profile in his search history.

And there you were to save him, digging through the mass of soil like a trained canine successfully sniffing out the soul trapped under the rubble. 

Your profile was a mix of your favored things and selfies. Minho had found himself checking your posts when he was bored, unbeknownst to you since neither of you followed one another. He found your posts to be interesting at first. Didn't take long for periodic profile peeks to turn into subconscious ones. 

You had him before his mind could even attempt to intervene with what his heart wanted. 

Truth's pain can never be outrun, but Minho was stubborn enough to try. He'd run himself into the ground instead, assisted in sparking the flames that engulfed your relationship. Fractions of the argument he'd started echo in his head. Words he could never take back.

"What, you thought just because we spent more time together these past few months that I'm suddenly obsessed with you? That all this bonding and bearing souls is gonna end in some fucking fairytale ending for the both of us?"

Your eyes widened, the sudden change in his demeanor made your head spin. The two of you had gone out to the movies tonight, even spent some time at a nearby arcade afterward. Everything was going so well, until it wasn't... 

You didn't expect your teasing joke about having a "date night" to so catastrophically backfire. 

"Where's all this coming from, Minho?"

For the first time since you met, you swore the person talking was an imposter. The words that spilled from his lips seemed to flow so easily for him. You hated it. Minho's gaze darkened, shoulders wound tight in a way that sent up a flag of caution in your mind. It had you so confused that you didn't even realize the snake coiled in the grass. 

"You knew what you were getting into." His voice is unnervingly low, fists clenched so tight you swear they crack under the pressure. "This was nothing more than a fling. It's not my fault that you can't control your feelings."

Your gaze hardened. The air between you had shifted; it's charged. Tense. He's standing so close to you and yet a concrete wall separates the two of you for miles. Your eyes find his and you can't recover. Those same eyes that had become a safe haven for you - warm and teasing and always inviting - were now pools of stagnant muddy water. The viper grows restless the longer you stare, baring fangs in a show of agitation. You shake your head.

"Well fuck, tell me how you really feel. Please." 

You hated that your voice cracked. 

Minho hated that your voice cracked. 

His chest strained with every word from you, ensnared by glassy eyes and the attempt at sarcasm. Still, the emotions flowed from you like a broken dam. It came to you so easily; expressing emotions. Minho loved that about you. And he hated that he loved it. The man sees red because of it.

"This was a mistake. I knew it from the moment we agreed to this."

"Then why bother wasting all this time on me, huh?" Your quick response only fuels his frustration, but you don't notice. "We've been at this for a whole year, and now you're trying to tell me this has been nothing but a-"

"You really think I enjoy spending all my time with someone so fucking needy?" The venom drips from the viper's fangs as it strikes, piercing the muscle deep within your chest. His words reverberate through the kitchen as he unloads his frustrations on you. A flash of orange and white zips past the kitchen entrance, searching for comfort deeper in the apartment. Somewhere deep in Minho's psyche, the rational little guy is attempting damage control, to no avail. The man is wound so tightly that words fly with no filter. Venom floods your veins.

You're nothing more than a fling. 

Just like every other person before you.

You stand there, waiting for him to come down from his epic high. You didn't know where this had came from, considering everything seemed fine between you two since the beginning. Perhaps it was a lapse of judgement on your part. Even so, you didn't deserve the modest amount of insults and hurtful words that he threw at you.

Once he's done, you wait with baited breath and a maimed soul. The apartment is deathly silent aside from the rasped breathing and shuffling of pacing feet. Slender fingers run rampant through dark locks. When Minho turns around to face you, you finally speak; voice as calm and steady as you can muster.

"Are you done?"

You hadn't looked away in the past three minutes since he'd began tearing into you. You couldn't allow yourself to. You had yet to say anything in this exchange that you would regret. As much as he had hurt you, you couldn't allow yourself to hurt him back. Shots had been fired and you had taken every last bullet, felt it tear and burn the chasms of your soul like acid.

Minho breaks first. Dark optics shut, accompanied by a heaving sigh that shrivels his lungs. The guilt hits like a freight train, metal slamming into his chest repeatedly. But he doesn't get ample time to recover from it because you're moving in his peripheral. He watches you reach for your belongings on the kitchen counter - phone, bag, earbuds. You reach for the jacket you'd brought along. The night had been going so well.

It wasn't supposed to end like this...

You shrug the piece on with a heavy heart, the fleece cloaking you in a warmth you know you won't find in this place any longer. Minho stands there wracking his brain for the apology he's searching for. God, he fucking despises himself.

"You know, all I needed to hear was that this wasn't working for you anymore. I would've just left it as it is." Your voice was as steady as before. Soft. Even. A whisper through the trees. Minho swears you have more to say, a pause that has your throat visibly taught. If you did, you shoved it down, turning towards the door where your shoes sit in waiting. They slip on easily, bringing you one step closer to what Minho is dreading. 

But how could he expect anything less after everything he'd said?

You turn to face him for the last time, searching voided optics for any semblance of guilt or regret from the past fifteen minutes of back and forth. But even as Minho's dealing with his internal battles, his expression on his face is one of stoicism. You couldn't read him. 

Fingers grasp the door handle, subconsciously tightening around brass. You take in the apartment for the last time, tongue darting out to wet dry lips before you find his shadow again. The door opens with a subtle click and your brows crease. You can't bring yourself to say a goodbye. It's not what you want, after all. So you settle on the current thought that stabs at your skull.

"Mixed signals aren't as sexy as you might think." Your eyes pierce through him, a fire extinguished as you make your leave.

The door closes behind you with a thud. A gunshot, Minho believes. Because as much as you had tried not to hurt him, your attempts were futile. 

His soul bleeds out on the kitchen floor.

How foolish one could be. 

Minho knew there was some truth to his words that night. He knew he would probably break your heart at the end of it all, mostly on account of his shitty communication when he felt it was time to quit an arrangement. But then again, he'd never dealt with feelings like this before. Never had to fight with himself over whether or not the spike in his pulse was just a mish-mash of lust and desire, or an all-encompassing love that set his heart aflutter. 

And then there you were.

With your domestic affections and your heart-shuttering behaviour. How the fuck could he think over anything when you were around? He may as well cease to exist.

Brown optics rove over the latest post on your profile, a photo that he had taken during one of your many "dates" together. A weekend trip that Minho had mentioned to you on a whim after you'd had a particularly shitty week of work. He had planned everything out, much to your surprise, but you couldn't have asked for a better weekend. You'd spent all night talking about anything and everything during the train ride, and while Minho wouldn't have chosen the night train in any other circumstance, he knew that he'd enjoy it with you. Even if you had fallen asleep, having you there would've been enough. You had arrived at Jeongdongjin station and made it to the coast just in time to experience the ocean waking in tandem with the sun. You hadn't noticed at the time, but Minho had pulled his phone out and captured the fleeting moment with the press of a button. He had never confessed that you had been the main focus of the photo.

The entirety of that weekend had chewed your relationship up and spit it out somewhere in between for Minho. 

Somewhere in between nails tearing bed sheets and plush lips pressing against knuckles. Borrowing old T-shirts and sharing breakfast in bed. Somewhere in between two strangers giving in to their carnal desires and a thick band of silver sitting pretty in a velvet box, weighing heavy in one's front pocket. A much needed weekend getaway spelled more questions than answers that only brought on more conflicts between head and heart.

Only now, he realizes that's exactly what he needed. 

The time on his phone reads 9:57 PM. Minho's fingers curl gently through Soonie's fur as he thinks over his options.

Drowning in his guilt sounds fitting, maybe a bit unhealthy. But he's fought his heart tooth-and-nail for the past few months. And it's gotten him a front row seat to his own self-destruction. Nowhere good, that's for certain!

Minho zeros in on the apartment door with a burning in his gut and a newfound determination. Feline eyes track the shape of his caretaker, hardwood creaking with each hurried step. The door shuts with a resounding thud. 

The apartment is quiet until a quiet chirrup! leaves Soonie's throat. Tabby fur preens as pink toe beans reach forward in a big stretch, tail high and nails protracting with a lazy abandon. A moment passes - tail twitches, a yawn presenting little white fangs, a pink tongue wetting whiskers - before he hops off the sofa and makes the long journey to his human's bedroom. Green eyes survey the room upon entering. 

A pile of dirty clothes lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, Minho's no doubt from the scent. Soonie knows his human hasn't been doing too well. He can sense the inner turmoil every morning when he wakes up, every evening when he comes home. And as much as he tries to comfort him, Soonie knows he can only bring so much relief. 

Whiskers twitch at the familiar scent he's searching for, padding through the bedroom towards the bathroom. A hoodie lays in the doorway, hiding a few other garments beneath. Your clothes. Left behind like most of your belongings that night. He greets the fabric with short trills and soft sea glass; a sort of joyful hello, I've missed you to a long-lost friend. He analyzes the heap before making the executive decision of curling up in it. 

Minutes pass, a city muted by glass barriers. Green eyes close. A deep sigh is released. 

The feline settles in for a cat nap.

ᓚᘏ��~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ~~~ᓚᘏᗢ

The city bustles with nightlife, even at 10:26 on a Wednesday. Your feet ache from the busy work day, having been pulled every which way since the start of your shift. Now, all you wished for was to get home and melt beneath a steaming showerhead. 

Unfortunately, the promise of a nice shower doesn't hold off the severe storm in your mind that is Lee Minho.

You wish that four weeks of no contact would've been the cure for you, but alas. One year with someone doesn't exactly make it easy to erase them from your memory, fling or not. And right now, you'd give anything for some concoction that would wipe the slate clean. The distance didn't help. It only kept you locked inside your head, Minho's words - the good and the bad - glued to every last nerve ending of your brain. 

If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that this illusion that you had manifested was crazy. You and Minho weren't anything beyond two people messing around. You'd fucked around with other people before him without feelings getting involved. But as they say, you can't help who you fall for. The heart wants what it wants. So on and so forth. 

You shake your head as you enter the apartment building, keys rattling in your grasp. One of two elevators is waiting patiently for you and you silently thank the elevator Gods for such hospitality. You press the floor to your apartment, stepping back until your back hits the wall. A sigh leaves you, free hand finding purchase at the bridge of your nose. Your fingers press into the corners of tired eyes, encouraging fuzzy stars behind the lids.

Fuck, what a fool you had been.

All this overthinking has you utterly exhausted.

Perhaps Minho was right; you should have hit the brakes, sealed the cap on your own feelings months ago. But then the what ifs invade your rational thoughts. What if this fling would've worked out? What if Minho had felt the same way for you? What if you had moved in after all, and all those lingering glances and teasing banter was more than a lustful attraction?

What if you keep up this stupid fantasy until the band-aids no longer hide the cracks? 

The thought stings, like slicing your heart with a serrated blade. 

The elevator halts it's journey, pulling you from your intrusive thoughts with a Ding! You make your exit and head down the main hall of the fourth floor. You really need some closure, or a distraction. Maybe both. Both sound good, you think. Or maybe some good ol' reverse psychology. 

What's the point of moping about some guy who was only interested in a quick fuck, right? 

God, now you're fucking grasping at straws. 

All you're realizing is that, lately, your mental hurdles begin and end with Lee Minho. You give up for now, because at this point, there's no winning with your rose-colored glasses on. What you need is a warm shower and a comfort food to go along with a comfort show. 

You turn the corner, steps faltering at the familiar shadow standing a few feet down the hall. Your heart strains against your chest.

"Minho."

Your voice knocks him from his stupor, glancing away from the numbers adorning your apartment door to lock eyes with you. He was here, like an answered prayer. Only you crossed that prayer off your list the moment you left him standing in the entrance of his apartment. Lucifer was laughing up at you from the deepest circle of Hell.

You knew that as much as you attempted to hide your feelings for him, Minho could read you like an open book. On the other hand, Minho was a novel of riddles, every sentence more cryptic than the last. You spent the last few months trying your hand at unscrambling the secrets behind his mannerisms, to no avail. The man rode the middle line at all times. And now, you needed to heal the papercuts that littered your heart.

You straighten at the sound of your name falling from his lips. 

"I uh - you.. you're home late." His voice wavers, and suddenly the carpet beneath his feet is super interesting. Fingers anxiously rub the nape of his neck. Again, you stand before this man, confusion etching the lines of your forehead. 

The Lee Minho you know doesn't act like this. Anxious and fidgeting like a nerved up school boy. He's quite the opposite; bold, confident, if a bit effervescent. 

You remember you haven't answered him, blinking back to the present.

"Yeah... double shift." 

He nods at your short response. You can't be bothered to mask the exhausted irritation in your tone, too focused on the fact that he's standing here at all. Minho's expression holds something akin to relief, and for a moment you find yourself hoping that it's because of you. You internally slap yourself on the wrist for it.

"You don't usually take doubles."

"Why are we doing this, Minho?" You ask, exasperation heavy in your tone. Keys clatter against bits and bobbles, attached to the keyring that's hooked securely around your index finger. "What are you doing here?"

You're already sick of this forced small talk. Sick of tip-toeing around feelings. You're not sure what Minho's intentions are after weeks of no contact, and frankly, you aren't sure you have the energy to care. 

Minho tears his hand from the base of his neck, fingers lacing together at the crown of his skull. The frustration that radiates from him is obvious, even more so when his lips thin into a snarl. You're suddenly wondering if he's here to rip into you again. The fluorescent lights hum a monotonous tune as you stand there watching him shoot daggers at unseen phantoms down the hall. Realization hits then.

"You can't answer that because you don't even know, yourself." 

You can't help the mocking chuckle that rumbles through your chest. He walks all this way only to stand here like a cornered feral cat. That's fucking rich! 

Minho startles at your shoulder brushing his arm, wide eyes narrowing as you fumble for the key to your apartment. Dark optics burn steady on your back, but you do your best to ignore them. Nickel-plated brass shimmies into the lock, aligning the pins in the mechanism. You turn the key.

"I was right," His voice is permafrost, freezing the muscles and joints of your hand on the door knob like some kind of magic spell, "when I said this thing between us was a mistake."

"Go home, Minho-" Your fingers press against brass, slipping into the entrance with a steeping burn beneath your skin. Minho has lived this scene once. Didn't like the ending the first time. He's the only one who can change it.

Minho feels you pushing away, so he pulls back. 

The door stops short of the frame. You look up to find sharp eyes already on you.

"I was right because I knew I would fuck this up with you."

Your body freezes in its place, hips stiff as his words bounce off ringing eardrums. Slim fingers clench against the woodgrain, broad shoulders taking up the sliver of space that's left. Your brows crease above narrowing optics, taking in the enigma of a man before you. There's a cautious plea swimming just beneath dark, tired irises. 

Hear me out. Please. 

A moment passes of just this; a staring contest between two souls, peeling back epidermis to discover the treasures hidden under it's surface. Down the hall, a door rattles it's frame, slammed shut by the careless and exhausted tenant who resides there. It's a draw, with the both of you blinking simultaneously. Maybe... 

When you haven't made a move to close the door, you know your mind is already made up. You release the breath you've been holding. Minho's gaze softens, and although this conversation would be best discussed in private, he doesn't push you to let him in. You're still standoffish, as you should be after the shit he'd said weeks ago. But you pull the door open a bit, allowing him enough space to - at the very least - breech the threshold. He shifts forward, leaning a shoulder against the steel door frame.

"You have every right to slam this door in my face." He says, bores a hole in the damned thing as he speaks. "Hell, I'll even do it for you. I've spent so much time fighting with myself. Telling myself that every stolen glance and lingering touch was part of our arrangement. But then you started to treat this as more than just sex, and I-" 

He falters, runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. Fuck, why was this so hard for him? You may have been right; He doesn't know exactly what he wants to say to you. But he's here, and you're willing to listen. 

So he's gotta try his hand. Lay all his cards on the table. 

"I'm not the guy who settles down. I don't take anyone on dates, or plan trips to de-stress. I spend more money on my cat in a year than anyone else, including myself. And yet, somehow, I've done all of that with you." Minho's eyes glow as he speaks, you swear you spot little embers aflame in gold - A sunrise you've yet to behold. His tone is low, but there's no doubt that he's bearing his heart with every word.

“That trip to Jeongdongjin… I barely remember it because I spent all my time caught up in you. It’s been that way since three months in when I teased you about moving in with me. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since then, double-knotted for good measure. And that scares the shit out of me! Because I’ve never felt this way with anybody. Like something’s missing when they’re not around.” He shakes his head, as if he's scolding himself. "I said a lot of shit that night that I'm not proud of. Let my own walls cave in on me, and I hurt you in the process. And no amount of sorry could make up for that, I know. But I don't think I could live with myself if I saw you around this city with someone else. And I know you deserve so much more than what I've offered. I don't know how to love someone like that."

The muscle in your chest goes into overdrive as he rambles. You weren't sure what you were expecting when you saw him standing there in the hallway, but you're certain it wasn't this. For a moment, silence fills the space between you two. He sucks down a deep breath, swallows his nerves away. 

"But I want to try. With you."

Oh.

You zero in on the man, eyes deadlocked on one another as you process his words. Minho wants to try. And you want nothing more than to accept his proposal as truth. But every neuron in your brain is firing off red flag like a siren. As much as you've fallen, you've also shattered like a box of fine china sitting on the highest shelf - the height too great to salvage such a delicate parcel. The chemistry is - was there. Undeniably. But now?

Part of you wants to slam the door and forget that this conversation, this connection ever happened. The other part of you wants to give him everything. Pull him in and never let go.

Quit entertaining these fantasies!

You shake your head, eyes closing as shaky fingers press against dark lids, attempting to quell the pounding that's settled in your temples. You wish it'd quell your anxiety. Your ringing ears. You sigh, leaning into the width of the door as you let your hands fall to your sides. Minho's gaze is almost thoughtful when you look up; those hidden embers dulled, but still illuminated by the warm glow of the floor lamp in your apartment. He closes the distance by a half-step and your heart rattles in your chest. 

But you don't back away. 

You don't slam the door in his face. 

And when his bold step doesn't get him in trouble, he brings a cautious hand up. It's unlike him to be so slow like his, hovering over you as if you're a wild animal that's in need of rehabilitation and about to bolt. But you're still here, by some miracle, and you allow him into your space. Because in the moments where Minho's emotions seem to break the barrier of cool rationality he's built for himself, you wonder just how deep his feelings for you really run.

He's gonna break your heart into a million little pieces again. Could you really handle that?

The thoughts tumble until he makes contact, drawing you out of your mind and back into the moment. Warmth bleeds into warmth as his fingers press into the skin behind your ear, calloused thumb skating over the expanse of your cheek bone. You wonder what it'd be like to forget such a tender touch. Your hands find Minho's wrists, sliding lower to grip strong forearms as you rest your forehead on the center of his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat is steady and soothing - a lullaby for your tired mind.

There's no mistaking the intimacy in these actions, no longer an exchange of rough leather and torn linen, but of pressed lavender and well-worn journals. It's comfortable. Feels like a safe haven. It drowns out every single worry in your head. Even so...

"I need time..." Your voice is a whisper, laced with an exhaustion that dominates your being.

"Alright."

"I can't just fall back into your arms because you say you want this now. That's not how this works."

You feel his voice rumble in your head; sweet like honey, as intoxicating as wine.

"We can start over."

He pulls away from you, lifting your head up to look you in the eyes. 

"Take things slow."

He nods.

"Take things slow... see where this goes."

"But if you ever chew me out like that again, I'm gone."

"Shit, baby, I'll buy you the one way ticket out of Seoul." He says it so seriously, you can't help but laugh. The sound ushers forth galaxies in raw citrine.

You allow yourself to slip into a state of warmth and comfort, your body leaning subconsciously as you bump your forehead with his. Minho's hand slips from your cheek, his fingers splaying at the back of your neck to pull you in until your lips meet. A duet of profound sighs tame rabid nerves. It's slow and delicate, technicolour - Everything you don't expect from him, yet everything you need from him. He takes up your space like he belongs there. 

Maybe he does.

You peel back with a soft smile etching your face. When you press yourself further against his chest, he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, fingers running the span of your back in soothing motions. If this is what taking things slow feels like, then it might be the best thing that's ever happened to you.

"It's getting late." He states, catching the time on the wall clock a little ways from the door - 11:03 PM -and you hum, acknowledging the fact even as you stifle a yawn into his jacket. "I should go."

You crane your neck to catch his gaze.

"Stay for tonight?"

You take in the look of shock on his face because, obviously, he doesn't expect you to ask. But he's already here, basking in your beauty and joy and all the things he's missed while he's been distant. It's written all over his face. And if you're honest, the close proximity and your exhaustion are both catching up to you.

Before you can explain yourself further, Minho's hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together and pulling you into the apartment. The door finally shuts.

Minho doesn't quite know how he'll do it, but as long as he's got this chance, he'll gladly spend the rest of his life making it up to you. 

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

[raingerr]

blehhh the dormant disease in my brain called warrior cats has woken up again there is no cure

i don’t think ive ever made concrete designs for the kitties though i think it is a fun idea. tried at first to stick to the simpler designs most people go for but i can’t not see him as a tabby he has to be a tabby

i think sometime soon i will make a full design image for him and also his relatives (which is like. every other cat atp) because that is so fun hooray!

u can find this design up on my redbubble right now !