#this was pulling out every card at once but so gently and calmly... the utter lack of bitchiness even while flexing is inspirational

[cilantroodon]

[ID: Gifset of a scene from Ted Lasso:

INT. COACHES' OFFICE. TED sits at his desk, BEARD standing in front of him.

TED: I don't know about you Coach, but I hope that either all of us, or none of us, are judged by the actions of our weakest moments.

(BEARD blinks silently.)

TED: But rather by the strength we show when and if we're ever given a second chance.

BEARD (looking up): Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

End ID.]

I know you've already seen it, I just don't know if you watched the whole thing, look, look, look. Alright. So look, after we came in, Nate had to hide under my desk here for, like, three whole hours while we were whooping and hollering and celebrating all around him. Then, once we all split, he thought he was in the clear and BOOM! Cleaning crew shows up. That's another two hours under that desk, yeah. Well, after they leave he crawls out - his legs just gotta be jelly, barely stand up. Look at this, he goes to check the doors but they're all locked! Oh man, that son of a gun had to climb out the window here just to get out of the building.

TED LASSO S03E11: MOM CITY

[chucklegigglechortlesnort]

Not Quite Unrequited

{Hanahaki AU} {Sero Hanta}

You were completely aware of Sero’s condition, however, try as you might, you were never able to figure out who was the cause of it.

It came as a shock to you, when you found out about his condition in the first place.

It was a typical weeknight, the two of you sitting in his dorm studying - you on the hammock and him on the bed - when all of a sudden he started to cough. At first, you thought that he got a popcorn kernel stuck in his throat, but when the coughs started to sound violent and he rushed to the bathroom, you realized something was seriously wrong.

When you managed to stumble your way out of the hammock and over to the restroom, all you could see was a flourish of soft pink rose petals decorating the floor and your best friend hunched over the garbage, struggling to breathe through the plants obstructing his windpipe.

Unsure of just what, exactly, you should do in the situation, you swiftly turned to make your way out of the bathroom to find help, only stopping when Sero managed to utter the word ‘wait’ followed by another flurry of coughs and petals.

The look in his eyes pleaded for you to stay, pleaded you not to tell a soul. And despite your better judgment, you did just that - staying right beside him, with what you hoped was a comforting hand on his back for the rest of the fit. It dissipated a short time after, but you were left with the knowledge that this must’ve been a common occurrence for him to be able to have handled it so calmly.

Since then, you’ve tried to convince him to talk to someone, get prescribed special medicine that helped soften the petals, or to just get the surgery to have them removed permanently. Much to your dismay, he refused every single one of your suggestions, saying that he didn’t need to talk to anyone because he had you, that he didn't want to rely on medicines with countless side effects that could hinder his ability to perform, and lastly that the recovery time for such an insignificant surgery would take away from training time and set him back.

It hurt you, knowing that you couldn’t do anything to help him, that he was dealing with feelings that you couldn’t even comprehend, though knowing this you doubted your pain could hold a candle to his.

Lately, it had been bothering you more than usual.

He was losing sleep, that much you could tell by the bags under his eyes and the way he was constantly dozing off in class. He struggled to hold a conversation, often losing focus and sometimes even falling asleep.

It was one of those typical nights, where you sat comfortably on the hammock and Sero across from you on his bed as the two of you went back and forth with review questions for the upcoming test, a bowl of popcorn and an answer key somewhere in the space between you. However, your study partner was being less than diligent, to say the least. It wasn’t the first time tonight that he had dozed off during your study session, but it would certainly be the last.

You almost didn’t want to wake him, he looked so peaceful - well as peaceful as one could look while sleeping in an upright position - but if you let him stay like that it would compile neck problems on top of all the things he had to worry about.

“Sero?”

The only response you got was a light snore.

“Sero.”

��Hm!”

You sigh when Sero snaps up, dazed and confused while trying to blink away the bleariness in his eyes.

“I think we should call it a night.” You conclude, flipping your binder closed and collecting the answer key from where it lay in front of you.

“What, why?”

“You can’t keep your eyes open for more than a few minutes and your attention span is even worse. I think you should try and get some rest.”

Sero frowned as he watched you collect your things and rise to leave. It wasn’t just the fact that you were leaving, something seemed to be bothering you by the look on your face and he didn’t want you to go before he got it out of you.

“Night, see you in the morning.” You called over your shoulder, glancing back just in time to watch as Sero’s hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Wait. There’s something bothering you, isn’t there?”

You sigh. You feel like you’ve been doing that a lot lately. Turning to face him, you can no longer mask your worry behind an indifferent expression. You part your lips, mulling over your words.

However, your train of thought comes to a screeching halt when you see Sero’s face morph with discomfort as his free hand reached up to clutch at his chest.

“Dammit.”

He quickly rushed past you to the bathroom and the realization set in. You feel the panic rise up inside you only to force it back down. You’re about to follow after him when you hear the first fit of coughs and you’re stopped in your tracks. They sounded different from when you had first heard them all that time ago. 

They sounded worse. Much worse.

When you tried to move again, your legs felt as if they were made of lead, slowly dragging along the ground toward the bathroom. Toward Sero. The room seemed to elongate with every step, but it didn’t matter, you needed to make sure he was going to be okay.

When you reached the bathroom, the sight before you rendered you motionless.

Petals were strewn across the floor, like before, but this time they were accompanied by full flowers, stem, leaves and all. In the middle of it was Sero, hunched over drool and streaks of red running down his chin while tears cascaded down his cheeks. The same red smeared on his chin was dotted on the pink rose petals as well as the spiky stems. You felt the color drain from your face as the realization hit you.

His blood. It was his blood.

“Oh my god.” 

You were aware that it had gotten worse but... you could’ve never imagined this.

Sero’s eyes cut to where you stood in the doorway, your expression nothing short of horrified. He once again feels the stabbing pain in his chest as he heaves out another fit of coughs, blood speckling out as he feels a particularly thick stem force it’s way up his esophagus.

You notice quickly that this one is different than the others spread about the room. This one’s longer, the stem thicker, and the thorns sharper. You have to cover your mouth and force the urge to sob back down and before you’re even aware of what you’re doing, you’re right beside him, carding your shaky hands through his hair and gently pulling it back so it no longer sticks to his face.

At the moment, you weren’t sure if you were helping or hurting, but the desperation yanking on your heartstrings was threatening to rip you to shreds if you continued to stand there and do nothing.

With a final heave as well as a small cluster of petals, the entire flower dislodged itself from Sero’s throat. Once you were certain that it was over, you let his hair fall from in between your fingers and sagged down beside him.

Sero slowly leaned away from the garbage, his entire body fatigued from the ordeal. His breathing is ragged and his throat raw, he focused on taking slow even breaths, as to not agitate his throat further.

Your head falls limply on his shoulder, the stinging behind your eyes suddenly becoming too difficult to suppress any longer. Silent tears drip down your cheeks, plopping onto the petals below you.

“You’re so stupid.”

Shocked by your choice of words, Sero turns his head in your direction to see your head resting on his shoulder, your own shoulders noticeably trembling.

“___-“

“Has it ever occurred to you, that you could die from this someday? That you could be one damn rose petal away from ending not only your career but your life?” Bracing yourself, you lift your head from his shoulder and stare straight into his eyes.

“Say what you want, Hanta, but you can’t live like this for the rest of your life - however long that may be, at the rate you’re going!”

Sero opens his mouth to respond, but you quickly cut him off.

“I know it’s selfish of me to say this, especially when you’re going through what you're going through, but... do you- do you even realize how much it hurts to see you like this? To know that you’re going through this and I can’t- I can’t do a single damn thing to help you?”

Your hands had found their way to his shoulders and you were kneeling in front of him now, instead of beside him, fingers digging in so hard there would be bruises there the next day. You were a teary, snotty mess at this point, your face was blotchy and red, your voice thick with emotion, and he was so blurred that you couldn’t even see his stupid, wonderful face anymore, but you held firm and stared him down through your tears.

“Please, just do something because it hurts too much to know that someone I love has to live through this.”

Silence hung in the air as Sero stared at you, his expression unreadable through your blurred vision. The tears slowly came to a stop as you fell forward, gently wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck.

“Please, Hanta.”

Your voice is so quiet, but somehow it’s enough to snap him out of the trance he was in, the echo of one word bouncing around in his brain.

‘Someone I love’ you had said.

Could it be that maybe...?

No, there was no way. Not a chance. You loved him, but not in that way.

But, what if? What if he took a chance? What was the worst that could happen? He would continue to live through this, but at least he would have closure.

Maybe he would even take your advice.

But he couldn’t think about that now.

Sero’s heart pounded in his chest, as he silently, slowly, wrapped his arms around your waist and brought your bodies together, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He was so close that you could feel each breath by your ear and a small shiver ran down your spine at the sensation. Anticipation bubbled up inside you, but you weren’t sure as to why.

“I...”

Sero feels his throat tighten and his mouth go dry. He was absolutely terrified. Terrified of you confirming what he already knew, terrified that he would end up ruining a friendship that he valued with everything he had. But he wanted - needed to tell you. Not only because he needed closure, but because you deserved to know.

“...I’m in love with you.”

He feels your entire body stiffen in his hold and immediately fears the worst.

What he doesn’t expect, is for you to start crying all over again. Your tears drip from your eyes and onto his neck, where your face was buried.

“_-____?”

Sero hastily removes his arms from around your waist to pry your arms off him. He gently guides you away from him so that he can see your face.

“So you’re telling me that I’m the reason that you- that it’s my fault you-!”

The more you try to force the words out, the heavier the tears flow and any sounds that make their way out of your mouth are embarrassing gibberish.

“H-hey, hey, hey,” Sero reaches up to cup your face and brushes away your tears, momentarily forgetting himself. “None of this is your fault, okay? My emotions aren’t your responsibility.”

“B-but-“

“‘But’ nothing, now just try to focus on breathing.”

Giving him one last look of wariness, you close your eyes hesitantly, focusing on taking oxygen in through your nose and out through your mouth.

Sero watches as your brow slowly becomes unfurrowed, noting that your shoulders are still tense. He slowly glides his hands down from your face to rest on your shoulders, just above your bicep. Shaky breaths escape from your swollen lips 

Once he sees you relax completely, he lets his hands fall from you altogether.

Silence falls over you, and for a while, neither speaks.

Your eyes open just slightly, sore and dry from tears shed. You see Sero’s larger hands resting right next to yours, the white cotton of his loose pajama pants, and the soft pink of the petals scattered about the floor.

“So, is it true?”

“Is what true?”

Your lips press together as you struggle to collect your thoughts. You didn’t want to outright repeat what he had told you - in all honesty, you didn’t think you could handle that right now. You were so overwhelmed at the moment that you could barely piece together proper sentences.

“What you said- that you, well-”

“That I’m in love with you? Yes, I was telling the truth.”

Your face flushed as his words echoed in your brain

Sero was... in love with you?

Since when?

For how long?

Thoughts and questions began racing through your head so fast you became dizzy. You leaned forward, planting your head on Sero’s shoulder for some much-needed balance. You had never thought of him that way, he had been in your life for so long as a friend that it was just what you were used to. But when you did think about it, maybe being more than friends was just the next step in your relationship. Images of you holding hands, going on dates, and kissing flashed through your mind... and it felt right.

“Okay.”

Yes, it was pathetic, but it was all you could bring yourself to say at the moment.

“Okay? Does that mean... you feel the same?”

“... I’m not really sure, but... I want to give it a try.” You take in a deep breath and raise your head to look Sero square in the eye. “Besides, who would make a better boyfriend than your best friend, right?”

A dry chuckle escapes Sero as he pulls you against him once more, resting his chin on top of your head.

“My thoughts exactly.”

................................................................................................

OK I KNOW WHAT I SAID ABOUT BEING BURNT OUT WITH BNHA BUT THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR LITERAL YEARS AND IM PRETTY PROUD OF IT SO HERE YOU GO

[cleverfoxhound-writes]

After 1000 years I’ve written something.

Ryuji Goda x Akira Nishidake (OC)

There were rumors between his men and those curious enough about the Kansai Dragon to catch wind of her. She was a mystery that eluded his men, her appearance, her name, no one knew of it but rumors that their boss was fucking a foreigner was something they couldn’t help but whisper and wonder about.

He was the Golden Dragon among the snakes of Sotenbori, he was the fearsome patriarch of the Go Ryu family, the adopted son of Jin Goda of the Omi Alliance. A man of power within the seedy underbelly of Osaka and soon Tokyo. 

A man of power, a name demanded it, strength that commanded. His domineering presence frightened and commanded his men and those around him, no one would dare challenge him. He had no weaknesses to his men but the Kansai Dragon had a weakness.

A woman. A foreigner. 

There were rumors between his men and those curious enough about the Kansai Dragon to catch wind of her. She was a mystery that eluded his men, her appearance, her name, no one knew of it but rumors that their boss was fucking a foreigner was something they couldn’t help but whisper and wonder about. 

Though he hated rumors, these rumors in specific amused him.

The heavy beats of the music reverberated off the walls in the club, rhythmic beats pounded his chest as he entered the night club. The immense wave of heat from the throng of bodies grinding against one another on the floor washed over him, a stark difference front the winter like weather outside the building.  Normally, this wasn’t his scene but he was a man on a mission and dealt with it. 

He and the two men, his top lieutenants he brought with him, followed him to the upstairs VIP lounge; he was unbothered by the startled looks of the people who were caught in salacious acts that would cause scandals for months. A smirk crossed his lips as he signaled for his men to wait nearby before he disappeared into the back offices of the club, offices that were off limits to the regular guests.

She was here, they hadn’t seen each other in a month and agreed to meet here.

He sought her out, hungry for her, her magnolia perfume was just a faint lingering scent that teased his senses while taking care of business. It drove him wild and though they agreed to keep things private for her sake he kept himself composed.

He walked down the darkened hallway until he came to a single door, he slowly opened it. The room was cool, illuminated by the muted pinks and oranges neon lights that managed to slip between the shutters.  She stood in front of the window arms crossed as she looked down at the streets of Sotenbori

"Ryuji?" a woman's voice said as she looked over her shoulder at the man.  Ryuji grunted in reply as he calmly closed the door and took off his coat, discarding it on the sofa. No words were uttered as he quickly closed the distance between them, a hand gently caressed her cheek, as he carded a hand through her silky caresses before he pulled her into a heated kiss.

A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he felt the heat, the soft curves of her flush against him, she looped her arms around his neck fully giving into him with wanton need. He hungrily groped at the exposed flesh thighs, greedily pushing up her mini skirt for the naked and heated flesh underneath it.

“I fuckin’ missed ya Akira,” Ryuji growled softly.

“I missed you too...Ryuji,” Akira moaned softly as he hungrily kissed down the exposed column of her neck leaving marks as he continued.

The way his name sounded coming from her lips, though she wasn’t a native it flowed differently and left him with a burning need for her. Hesitantly he broke the kiss, a string of saliva hung from their lips. 

“Ryuji…” Akira panted softly as she looked at him, though the office was dim and only illuminated from the pink and orange lights from her bronze skin seemed to glow. 

She came from America though half Japanese with tanned skin, she was still looked down, he helped her and she helped him. They lost contact with each other after they graduated high school and happened to stumble on one another a few months back. 

She was a model, one of the top models in Japan, she had grown into a beautiful woman despite the traditions heavily embedded in Japan, she prospered. 

He had fallen for her at first sight. She was smart, affluent, and still had that sharp tongue he remembered from high school. After a few they met for a few drinks, privately, and after the interviews she participated in about her connections with the Goda family.

Ryuji knew that he needed to make her his and he did.

A high school friend to lover, none of his men knew that he was fucking the top foreign model in Japan and it thrilled him. She was his now and he wasn’t going to let go of her.

As she clung to him he backed them into the lone desk in the room, he lifted her slightly enough to have her sit on top of the flat surface. 

“It’s been too long Aki...You look fuckin’ amazing,” Ryuji growled as he loosened his belt and pants. “Once this is over, I’m fuckin’ makin’ ya mine, I give no fucks of what these fuckers say,”

“You’re still serious…” Akira trailed off.

“Of course,” Ryuji replied as he tenderly caressed her cheek. 

“R-ryuji--” Akira began.

“Shut up, I said what I said,” Ryuji growled.

He gently ran his finger tips over her lips, down the column of her neck, across her collarbone. A soft gasp slipped past her lips as he kneaded her breasts before he continued down her taut abdomen and finally dipped between the sopping wet folds of her sex. Ryuji growled deeply in his chest as her head rolled back, her mouth open in a silent moan, an abrupt gasp shot from between her lips, she stifled a cry by biting on her bottom lip.

He was the Dragon of Kansai, a king, he had the power, the reach and lowered himself to none. He had patience for those who deserved it, he had control, he had everything he could want and yet when it came to her none of that mattered. He lowered himself in front of her, between her legs spreading them apart as he feasted on her thighs, her essence, her dripping sex.

They knew tonight they wouldn’t be able to take their time with one another, they wouldn’t be able to take things slow, he wouldn’t he couldn’t spend the time working her open for him, making her scream his name, they couldn’t spend the night with each other and settled for this night, this moment. She was sprawled across her desk, a panting mess before he took her. He was normally slow, methodical when it came to her but time didn’t allow them the slow love making they enjoyed. 

“R-Ryuji!” Akira gasped and gripped his shoulder as he quickly thrusted into her. 

“Yer so fucking tight for me…no matter how much I fuck you,” Ryuji groaned deeply as he fully sheathed himself in her. His larger frame engulfed her smaller one as he buried his face in the crook of her neck biting her neck leaving another mark.

A hiss came from her lips and an abrupt gasp as he pulled his hips back to slam forward into her tight heat.

“Ryuji!” Akira cried out.

“I know, I know sweetheart...I’ll make it up to ya,” Ryuji murmured and straightened himself and shrugged off his overcoat and loosened his tie tossing it across the room.

His hands were on her hips, bruising grip as he thrust into her, each thrust fast, and powerful that rocked her to her core. Akira arched her back off the desk as she held onto the edges of the desk to keep herself from shifting away from the man despite knowing that her hips would be bruised by tomorrow morning from the man’s strength.

Ryuji snarled as she moaned his name over and over again, praying to him as if he was a god, though clothed he could still feel her nails digging into his skin as he savagely fucked her not giving a damn of who would find them.

Who would stop them?

There was something more carnal about tonight as the thought of love making was the furthest thing from his mind, he was too far gone for gentle love making. Was it her perfume? The skin tight mini skirt and crop top? The way the sheen of sweat on her body? The way she bit down on her bottom lip to keep herself from being too loud? The way her skin glowed in the pink and orange neon lights.

“Fuck,” Ryuji cursed as he could feel her walls pulsing around his cock and he could feel his own body betraying him and pushed him closer and closer to his end. He moaned out her name over and over and over again and she moaned his name as if she was in a trance , with every thrust as he found his chest pressed against her own, rutting into her with instinctual need.  

Deeper, harder, faster, short shallow thrusts, and she was coming undone below him. Her back arched off the desk as her mouth opened in a silent orgasm the intensity of her orgasm pushed him over the edge, his body trembling as he leaned down and frantically kissed her in an attempt to stifle his own loud moan.  

His hips stilled against hers, their lips swollen but he didn’t give a damn, she clung to him as she rode out her orgasm, milking him for every drop that he would willingly gave her. Pulse after pulse his seed painted her walls and when the rush of their orgasm settled, Ryuji hesitantly pulled from her.

“I didn’t hurt ya did I?” Ryuji mumbled as one of his large hands caressed her cheek and brushed pieces of her hair from her face.

“You left a lot of marks…” Akira panted.

“Had to let them know yer taken. I’ve seen the way the fuck boys fawn over ya,”   Ryuji replied lowly as he extended a hand for her to take. He gently pulled her from the desk before he stuffed himself back into his trousers, he watched as his seed dripped down between her thighs.

“ ‘sides…” Ryuji began deeply. “ You got all that makeup to cover them up,” Ryuji commented.

“You’re leaving tonight?” Akira asked as she adjusted her clothing and smoothed her hair.

“Yeah...for a little bit, be back tomorrow night,” Ryuji said quietly as he grabbed his coat that he had tossed on the sofa.

There was a brief silence in the room, between the two. Ryuji slipped on his overcoat and when he felt his arms wrap around his abdomen.

“Be careful...please,” Akira whispered as she gently squeezed. He sighed deeply before he turned around and pulled her into his embrace.

“Ya worry too much,” Ryuji murmured as his large hand caressed her cheek.

“How can I not?” Akira replied as she pushed her cheek further into his hand. “I love--” 

Ryuji leaned down taking her lips in a heated kiss and hesitantly broke the kiss, his lips hovering above hers momentarily.

“...why...” Akira whispered

“Tell me that when we’re not in a fuckin club...tell me when it’s jus’ us,”

“I will…” 

“Good, cause I’ll be waiting,” Ryuji pressed his lips against hers once more. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek before he exited the office quietly closing the door behind him.

[mademoiselless]

F l u x

"Still in love with the idea of loving you, it's a state of flux, and it's not enough."

It was actually your idea though, — the freaking "temporary break-up".

Your mind was a mess and the thought pops out of your mind all of a sudden. Sure you love him, of fucking course you really do, but some things lately were really getting out of hand.

"What do you mean?"

It was the fifth petty argument you two had in a span of a month and it started to get on your nerves. Lately, he's like being out of the loop, his patience short and distant. At some point, you've actually became paranoid and thought of what if he's being like this on purpose because he's falling out of love? What if, God forbid... he's cheating?

"I-I think it's best if we cool down for awhile."

Your words, you wanted to take them back as soon as you spill them. You saw how his face fell, furrowed brows started to part calmly as he sat on the couch, his breathing stills. At that time, he looks like he was contemplating, thinking.

"Okay."

Okay? Was that it? Were you that easy for him?

His face blank and emotionless as he stoods up, sighing and gathered his backpack on the floor. Hearing the front door shut, you fell on your knees and sobbed quietly.

The first couple of weeks without him was okay. No calls, no text. You got yourself busy for college and finally have some "me time" but at the end of each day, your mind couldn't help but to still wander about him. How was he? Is he doing well? Was he skipping dinner again?

At the college, every once in a while you'd passed by him at the hall and tried so hard not to steal glances on him only to fail misserably. He was with his friends, all happy and unbothered. You heart sank a bit yet you were glad he's better—but better without you.

Perhaps you were right. Spending some time away from each other will let you two reevaluate yourselves, and Jaehyun seems like he already did.

It's been a month since your partial break-up and for you, everything's like still hanging, unaswered and missing. School works already took its toll on you, deadlines here and there were constantly making you stressed, but at some point, let you supress the loneliness deep inside you and get yourself distracted from the idea of him.

You lie on your bed at night, letting tiredness thoroughly consumed you to sleep. You're slowly dozing off when you head knocks from the front door. Thinking it was just your neighbor Rose asking about some missed assignments, you opened it without a do and almost shut it close when you saw who actually it was.

"Hi."

Lesson, never ever open your doors without knowing who's on the other side, you might end up getting murdered.

"I'm here for something I forgot."

Liar. You've never seen any of his belongings since the last time he left your dorm a month ago but despite of being confused, you eventually let him in without saying anything. Unlike you, he seems good, fine, you guess, and of course still handsome as hell. Suddenly, the room smells like him all over again slightly making you feel giddy and dizzy.

"How are you?"

"Im fine. Just a little tired and sleepy. "

Trying to make everything short and simple, you replied not even sparing him a glance, just so he can go and you can finally sleep in peace but then it hit you. This might be his chance to officially break up with you.

You were about to turn back to your room when you heard him uttered your name for the first time in a while and you swore you almost broke down right there and there.

"Can we talk?"

You two really did end up talking, both of you sat at the either side of the couch comfortably but with a safe distance. He sat straight, back resting on the cushion while you were facing him, legs cross in an indian sit with a pillow on your lap. Apparently he's the one who did the talking the most while you just nodded. You were surprised by his actions, he talks like nothing happened, as if it was like just a normal routine with him were he talks about his day, his life at school. You really tried your best to remain composed in front of him, deep inside, you were actually still a mess. Leaning on your elbows, you plopped them a top the pillow and let your head rest on it as you listen to his deep baritone voice. You heard him chuckle to whatever he had mentioned about this one friend of him and you swore you felt your heart made a slight leap on your chest. You let him blab more as you pretend to listen attentively but in reality you're just staring on his perfect face like you have been hypnotized.

"Hey, are you still listening?"

"No."

It was a quick, straight answer to his question and you noticed how his pout and frown were slowly formed making you smile a bit. He never changed.

Temporary break-ups were somewhat made to give each other a breathing space and time to think but for some, they made it as a chance to escape. Turns out you have done the latter and now you're suffering from it.

He was still grumbling childishly when you reach for him oh so suddenly, his face in between your warm palms that he yearned the most. You mindlessly leaned down tilting his chin to let your lips meet. His eyes were round as saucer as you recall, taken a back from your sudden move but you didn't care. You kissed him slowly, taking his bottom lip in between yours. It took him some time before you felt him respond, gently, he pulled you closer, settling you in his lap with your legs on either side of him. For like a split second you pulled away to breathe but he chased your lips, deepening the kiss. His fingers wandered to your hips, tugging you down closer to his and you sighed unconciously through the kiss. You felt him card your hair in between his fingers, letting him feel and relish you, letting him take control. At that time, you felt yourself soaring again, you felt loved, you felt secured yet again.

Everything was overwhelming you, the emotions, the frustrations, the anger, the love. Suddenly you were so scared to lose him and you really hated yourself for only realizing it now. How can you become so stupid and reckless? You almost lose him.

Before anything could escalate further, Jaehyun pulls away, caressing your cheeks gently.

"Babe, why are you crying?"

You didn't even realize you were already shedding. He leans in again kissing your both tear-stained cheeks, making your eyes flutter close.

"Jae I'm so sorry-"

"Sshhh... Dont be."

There you rested yourself on top of him, savoring his warmth, scent and presence that you've been badly missing.

"I told you before that I forgot something in here, didn't I? "

"Yes. "

"This. I forgot this here." He points a finger to your chest.

"When we were apart I've been incomplete."

And so you were.

"You are the missing piece of me... "

"... and I left this here. I left my heart here with you."

"Still in love with the idea of loving you, it's a state of flux, I just keep holding on."

[circusglass]

DRABBLE. ‘please’ in infernal.

Timeline. With the Fletching & Moondrop Carnival of Curiosities.

Notes. Everything in italics is Infernal. Wanted to write about Molly and this language of his (convoluted answer: as someone who is ESL, I’m fascinated by our relationship with language and how it can shape our identities, whether by presence or absence of it). Ended up with the origin to his moon horn charm. Two birds, one stone! Not the most gracefully written thing, but I really like the energy of it.

Also, I have it in my head that structurally, Infernal does not contain contractions, so it sounds...formal? 

Word count. ~1700

Warnings. None.

The first time Molly sees another tiefling, it’s plural, a pair—a grandfather and grandson, both the grainy color of red agate, with horns that sweep up and away from their brows to lay back against the crowns of their heads in a flourish like one of Gustav’s calligraphied letters. The grandfather’s beard is patchy against his cheeks, eyes like pale beer. The boy’s hands are too big for his body, end in surprisingly threatening claws capped with some kind of dull, water-warped metal, blunted at the ends. To keep from catching, Molly suspects, though the thought is sudden, unbidden. They’re selling odds and ends in the market—or would be, if the afternoon crowd would stop long enough to look.

It’s the first time Molly’s ever heard Infernal, too, passed between old man and boy, a lesson, perhaps, if the boy’s expression is anything to go by. The language scratches at Molly’s brain like a file rasping over his nail, like it’s scratching to be let in, so he relents, and the knowledge rearranges itself there in the street as he realizes: I know that. I know those words.

When the old man notices him staring, his face remains guarded, but he offers a reluctant nod in greeting. Molly glances over his shoulder and seeing no one else, smiles and draws near. He knows well enough how to slip into conversation now without butting in, how to speak like a buyer, and not just a salesman; he can turn them on and off. He gestures absently at their spread of wares.

“What’s a good recommendation for a traveler?” he asks, as if he has any intention of buying.

The young boy doesn’t smile, but his tail swishes and curves high, and Molly thinks, my tail does that too sometimes, with a dense, syrupy wonder. The boy looks to his grandfather, who nods.

“I like this one,” he says in Infernal, finger pressing into the face of a small stone like a cut ruby. It doesn’t escape him that the stud is near enough color to the boy and his grandfather’s hue. He doesn’t think it’s real, must be glass, but it’s pretty, fractures water-wine light across the white linen tablecloth and he knows at once he’s going to buy it. Molly doesn’t touch it, but his claws fall near enough to claim.

He turns over the soft susurrus of the boy’s words.

“I like this one,” he mimics, slowly, then after a beat adds, “too.”

Infernal coalesces in his brain in plumes of gray-blue smoke, rallying together on his tongue. Excitement eddies against the edges of his brain, the shape of the words clawing over one another. Molly swallows. The grandfather looks at him searchingly. His face is square, cheekbones taut and high, though his cheeks sink, his jaw edging on jowls.

“Do you travel, then?” The old man says, quietly, as to not attract attention, gaze scanning the market, but no one looks their way any more than usual. His voice is a low, grating purr. Molly frowns. Gustav told him this would be likely one day, and yet—

“Yes,” he begins. “With my troupe.”

This garners a small smile, but perhaps it’s a trick of the light, “A bard?”

Molly shakes his head, fangs gleaming, “A circus.”

The boy bounces on the balls of his feet. Or—Molly glances over the table—no, the boy has hooves, little cloven things that are due for a clipping.  

“Fletching and Moondrop,” the child says in perfect Common, and Molly snaps his fingers and points at him with a flash of fangs. The boy’s gaze swings towards his grandfather and it’s a loaded look, a can we go look. His grandfather doesn’t answer, simply brushes a large, tender hand over the sweep of the boy’s blunt horns.

“Moondrop, moondrop,” the old man muses, scrubbing at his sparse beard. He turns away from them without another word to sort through the stack of wooden boxes that make a wall at the back of their stall. The little boy grins up at Molly.

“What do you do at the circus?” He has two rows of pointed teeth. Molly only notices because one of his incisors is missing, revealing the second row.

Molly cocks his head from side-to-side. Bouncing and barking would be boring for the boy ( he’s still learning the cards, learning to read and trust them ), so he says, “I am on the rope,” and walks his fingers across the tablecloth. “High above the crowd. But my ankle. I am recovering. Very clumsy.”

Those pale eyes glitter, tail slithering through the air. “Tightrope! I want to be on the trapeze. Watch what I can do!” And then the boy is flipping the table skirt up and scrambling underneath, tumbling out on Molly’s side. He shifts from one cloven hoof to the next, then does a back handspring as well as any of the carnival’s girls, spinning around to beam a grin. 

A human couple jerks away from the tiefling pair, gaze darting from red to purple to red again. They tear their eyes from them and hurry along. Molly claps enthusiastically.

“Let us see, let us see,” Molly muses, finger tapping against his lips in a mockery of thought. “You are much better than I, I am afraid.” 

Then with little warning himself he folds in half to plant his hands flat against the earth, kicks his legs straight into the air, proceeds to walk a circle around the boy, who crows with delight. Molly’s legs split one way, then the next, before he gently drops back right side up. He holds his arms out, twirls his wrists as he makes a show of bowing.

“Get out of the street, Bealabor,” the old tiefling grunts, waving them back. Bealabor ducks his head and scurries underneath the table once more, practically taking the linen on his horns. Molly’s laugh is a raucous bark. 

Many of the baubles have been pushed aside to make room for a long, flat box, though the red stud, he notices, has been set in the open, presumably so he won’t forget it. Grandfather has undone the latch and retrieved a charm from it.

“A charm for a Moondrop traveler,” he says, holding it up to frame one of Molly’s horns. It’s the size of a coin, a silver crescent moon, a drop of blue stone dangling from the bottom—and it’s a stone, definitely, carries a depth of color that does not yield so easily to the sunlight, but reflects it with a brilliant sparkle. It’s mesmerizing, and there’s something about it that makes Molly think of magic. Of Gustav’s Moonweaver. It makes him feel similarly, a pleasant pulse just under his skin.

“Is this enchanted?” he asks, tripping back into Common.

The old man shakes his head, answers in kind, “Simply ornamental. But—” he pauses to look at it. “—if you are superstitious—”

“Very,” Molly chuckles, though he isn’t at all.

“—Ah, then, it has always given me good luck in my travels. Protection from bigotry, strength to push on. The moons know all my secrets and keeps every one. Good to wear close to the temple,” he taps his head. “I think it will give you good luck, too.”

“If it’s good luck on travels, you should keep it,” Molly says. The old man chuffs a laugh, shakes his head.

“Child, I do not travel anymore,” he says. “I am too old now. The moons know exactly where I am.”

Molly has to give it to him, he’s one hell of a salesman. Bealabor rests his head on his folded arms, stares between them with a look of utter boredom.

The moon is warm to the touch and Molly finds that he likes the weight of the trinket in his hand, drapes it on the curve of his horn and tilts his head this way and that. It feels good, feels right.

“Alright. I will take it,” he says, then leans over to tap the stud. It rolls beneath his finger, looks all the world like a pomegranate seed. “This one, too.”

Bealabor perks up at that. Molly winks at him.

Grandfather wraps the charm and earring in bits of soft cloth, passes them across the table even before Molly’s fished his coin purse from his coat pocket. Perhaps it’s the horns, the language, that garners trust. It makes Molly feel a part of something, which is a strange conclusion to come to when he thought he’d been a part of a great many things already.

“Four silver,” he says, and Molly bobs his head.

What little coin he has still manages a merry jingle in his purse. He pulls out four silver, then hesitates, digs into the bag once more. He drops the silver, as well as his only gold piece, into Bealabor’s hands.

“That is too much—” the older tiefling begins, brows wrinkling. It makes Bealabor keep his hand wide, uncertainty flashing in his pale eyes. Molly lays a hand over his, light, and he’s warm, warmer than Molly is himself. He smiles gently at Bealabor’s grandfather, searches for the words he needs and places them end-to-end, like tiles across a board.

“It is the exact amount,” he says, unflinchingly. His tail sways. “You have given me more than I came to find. Please.”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it, Molly observes. Is there more to the word in Infernal? A depth and weight to it, maybe, that he’s not aware of? He’ll ask Gustav—maybe Ornna. The roots of her language are closer to Infernal if the sound of it is anything to go by. Grandfather makes a fist around the coin. Though the older tiefling doesn’t smile, his tail curves, sways calmly through the air, and that’s enough to make Molly grin.

“One condition,” Molly says, holding up a finger. Grandfather tilts a brow, and he’s sure this time his lips are curving.

“What is that?”

Molly tucks his charm and pouch away in an inner coat pocket. “The extra is so you come to the carnival. So I better see you both there.”

Bealabor’s smile is the flint spark that takes, bright and crackling and joyful.

[fantasyimmortal]

Satisfy Me

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |  Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29

Saeran POV. MM Fantasy AU. Fic Rating: Explicit

Tags thus far: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Rough Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Explicit Language, Derogatory Language, Masturbation, Violence, Blood and Violence, Torture

               The wall at the peak of the stairway phased away as I reached it. I paused and took a deep breath before stepping into my room. I looked towards the bed first and my fists clenched when I saw the bedsheets were rumpled but no one was resting underneath them. I was preparing to turn on Ricward when I caught a glimpse of her by the bookshelf.

               The anger I felt from her not being where I expected her to be, vanished the instant I saw her standing there. Her fingers were gently gliding along the spines of the tomes that lined the shelves. “Only you would be able to ignore your surroundings to appease your curiosity.” I exhaled in frustration as I crossed my arms over my chest.

               She quickly spun around, the midnight-blue gown she wore flowing with the movement of her body. It felt like I had been punched in the chest and I couldn’t breathe. The dress Ricward had given her hugged her curves natural and the color only accented her skin. She looked otherworldly and honestly quiet beautiful. Her eyes widened and she shifted on her feet as I stared.

               “My lady, you really shouldn’t be up after what you just went through.” Ricward called out from behind me.

               The concern in his voice brought me back to my senses. I shook my head and took a menacing step forward. “For once in your life could you listen to what you’re fucking told?”

               “Excuse me?! I am my own person! I don’t have to listen to anyone I don’t want to.”

               I grit my teeth and took another step forward. “Yes, and we see how well that’s fucking worked out for you haven’t we?”

               “What’s that supposed to mean?” She snapped. Her lashes fluttered slightly and she held onto the bookshelf as she took a deep breath before looking up to glare at me.

               “Are you fucking serious right now?! Everything that has happened recently!” I shouted. She can’t be serious!

               “Sire.” Ricward calmly said as he put a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged his hand off knowing full well he was trying to calm my anger. “There is a chance she may not remember some things, if not everything, that had transpired.”

               I cocked my brow and eyed her suspiciously. “I wouldn’t put it past her to pretend.” I sneered. She rose her chin defiantly. “Don’t fucking play the innocent card, _____. It’ll piss me off!” I looked over my shoulder as I heard Ricward chuckle. He held his hand against his mouth as his shoulders shook. “What is so damn funny?!”

               He choked back his laughter and squared his shoulders. “Apologies, Your Highness.” Ricward looked over at _____ and gave her a charming smile. “It is rather funny that every other woman in your presence is deathly afraid of angering you.” He held out his hand, gesturing towards _____. “Yet here is this delicate human woman, standing her ground despite your growing temper.”

               “So what?” My brow furrowed as I continued to look at him.

               “So, it appears you may have met your match. In other words, the perfect woman for you.”

               “That’s insane!” I glanced back over at _____. She took the words out of my mouth. “Why would you say something like that?!” She moved away from the bookshelf and paused. Her eyes rolled back into her head and I felt a sudden air current as Ricward rushed past me.

               He caught her before she hit the ground. “Poor thing has warn herself out.”

               Ricward’s voice seemed distant to my ears. My eyes focused on his hands and I couldn’t help but feel some type of emotion that I couldn’t pinpoint. I marched up to him and took her from his arms without uttering a word. I lifted her up and carried her back over to the bed and laid her down.

               “I believe I have witnessed the first bout of jealousy from you, sir.” He muttered, though he was purposefully loud enough for me to hear.

               “What the fuck are you talking about?” I grumbled as I began to cover her with the sheets.

               “You’re being rather attentive to someone you don’t want to care about, Sire.”

               I could hear the smile in his voice and immediately dropped the sheets as if they had burned me. I took a few steps backwards before turning to glare at Ricward. “You are being very outspoken.” I threatened.

               He sighed and held his hands up defensively. “Just being observant, Your Highness.” He walked over to the bed and finished covering _____.

               “Why do you find all this so damn amusing? And why would you fucking say she’s the perfect woman for me? What kind of bullshit is that?!”

               My body straightened as he smiled at me in response. “You’re being very defensive, Sire. I’ve never seen you like this. Even when you were smitten with her.” I absentmindedly flinched at the mention of that woman. Ricward cleared his throat as a distraction before continuing. “I never thought you’d get over it.”

               “Who says I’m over it?” I snapped as I sat down in the nearest chair and tapped my fingers against the table.

               “Hmm. I wonder.” He said as he looked at _____. “You seem to be moving on with her help, whether you’re wanting to or not.” Ricward kept his ground and stared at me evenly as I slammed my fist on the table and glared at him. “You’re feeling things for her, it’s evident.”

               “You’re demented, Ricward. I’ve done all this so I wouldn’t die because of her inability to fucking listen. There is nothing here for you to smile about! If you don’t stop I’ll tear you limb from limb!”

               Ricward’s smile widened as he closed his eyes and tilted his head. “You can threaten me all you want but it doesn’t change facts, Your Highness.” He bowed and walked towards the door. “One last thing, Sire.”

               “What is it?” I sighed.

               “To answer your question. A man, human or otherwise, is only as strong as the woman he chooses to have by his side. From what I’ve seen she seems to be the most qualified to be at your side. Fate I believe had a hand in your imprinting.” My eyes widened and he gave one last smile before walking out of my room.

               I bit the inside of my lip as I stared at the empty doorway half expecting him to walk back inside. I got up from my chair and strode over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. ____’s body rolled slightly towards my added weight on the mattress.

               I turned towards her, putting my hands on either side of her head. “You annoy me to no end. You don’t listen to a fucking word I say without a retort of your own.” I reached out towards her face my hand stopping just before brushing the hair out of her face. My fingers curled slightly and I pulled my hand away from her. “You’re insufferable but…I suppose I’ve enjoyed the challenges that have surrounded you.”

               I glanced towards the doorway and then towards the balcony making sure that no one was watching me. I looked at her face and lowered my voice. “I’m…relieved that you’re still here, and not for my own sake.” I smiled down at her sleeping form. “Having me worry for your sake, you will make it all up to me. Just you wait.”

[daisy-chain-gardens]

Exchange Romance - Chapter 15

A/N: Hi again! You probably don't remember me since it's been a while but I finally managed to find the time to write something so here it is. A huge thanks to the always lovely @allskynostars for beta-ing this and putting up with my constant stream of random messages. Pretty please leave me a comment or a message or even an ask and let me know what you think, I always love hearing from you. Until next time :)

Word count: 5,666

A03 link

The last day of school finally came to a close, the four of them letting out a ragged breath as they walked through the school doors for the last time. Well, the last time for the next two weeks. They all clambered into Archie’s car in a silence which endured the short drive and followed them as they collapsed into their usual booth at Pop’s, all of them too exhausted to engage in conversation. They ordered their usuals and ate quietly, starting to talk once their milkshake glasses were empty and the only evidence of their food was the greasy paper lining the plastic baskets.

“I swear that was the longest semester of my entire existence,” Veronica complained as she fell into Archie’s side, resting her head on his shoulder. He chuckled at her dramatics, wrapping his arm across her back and pulling her in closer.

“I second that. Finishing off with history was actual torture. Jug and I were counting down the seconds and I swear the clock stopped at one point,” Betty joked, Jughead nodding in agreement.

“He somehow managed to talk for the whole hour without pausing but I have no idea what he was talking about,” Jughead admitted.

“Me either, but we have a test on it first day back so we need to study at some point,” Betty pointed out, all traces of a joke gone from her sparkling eyes.

“Relax B, it’s the holidays. Everyone knows you’re supposed to procrastinate until the weekend before school goes back anyway, so you’ve got plenty of time. Plus, there’s no way you weren’t paying attention in class. You probably already know the topic so calm down and enjoy your last holidays with us amazing people.” Veronica started to smile teasingly before she realised what she’d said, the weight of her words suddenly hanging overhead like a dark cloud. Archie and Veronica glanced briefly at Jughead and didn’t notice anything obviously wrong but Betty knew better. Jughead’s grip on her thigh had tightened slightly, his jaw clenched, his gaze stuck straight ahead. Betty placed her hand on top of his, tangling their fingers together and squeezing gently. He broke his stare and looked at her, a soft smile playing on his lips but his eyes were stormy, a sure sign that the thoughts floating around his mind were anything but pleasant.

 “That sounds like a great plan.” Betty smiled out at her friends across the booth, squeezing Jughead’s hand once more. Her smile grew bigger when she felt him squeeze back. “Speaking of the holidays, what are we actually gonna do?” They all looked at each other, waiting for someone to answer, before bursting into laughter when they realised they were all as clueless as each other.

“That is a very good question Betty. I think we have to start off with a movie marathon though. Your house or ours?” Archie asked, turning his attention to Veronica.

“Ours. Mum’s out again and Daddy’s currently on a flight to Tokyo so we’ll have the place to ourselves,” Ronnie replied with a twinkle in her eyes. Archie pulled out his phone and texted his dad to let him know they were staying at Ronnie’s overnight. Fred replied quickly, knowing that if he said no the boys would just sneak out anyway. The four friends tumbled out of the booth and back into Archie’s car, all of them a lot more energetic than they had been on the drive over.

--------------------

Their movie marathon quickly turned into a board game tournament after they’d spent half an hour scrolling through Netflix only to come up empty handed. Veronica found a cupboard filled with old board games and they’d each picked one; Snakes and Ladders, Ludo, Battleships, and Cluedo. Veronica had (only just) won Snakes and Ladders and after a very intense round of boys vs. girls Battleships, the four were onto Cluedo. Jughead, Archie, and Veronica quickly figured out why Betty had picked it. She was good, really good. Her poker face was unreadable and she refused to give anything away, knowing exactly how to use the rules to her advantage.

Betty had just rolled a double six, again, when her phone buzzed from her pocket. She pulled it open and unlocked it without paying attention, still laughing at Archie’s reaction to her roll when Alice’s face filled the screen.

“Hello Elizabeth.” Alice’s cool tone cut through Betty’s laughter like a knife, stopping her short as she looked down in surprise.

“Mum, I wasn’t expecting you to call. Is everything alright?” Betty tried to sound polite but she was silently cursing herself for answering the call.

“Everything is fine Elizabeth. I had some free time and I was thinking we could talk now as well as with your father tomorrow.”

“Oh, alright. I’m kind of busy at the moment so it’s better for me to talk to you tomorrow,” Betty said, trying to get rid of her mother as fast as possible. Jughead and Veronica had both seen varying degrees of how controlling her mother could be but Archie hadn’t yet, and Betty was planning on keeping it that way.

“What are you doing, Elizabeth? I can’t imagine what would be more important than talking to you mother who’s on the other side of the world.” The guilt card. Alice didn’t play it often but when she did, she played it well. Betty stayed silent as Alice continued. “That’s what I thought. So, what are you doing?”

“I’m at home with Veronica, Juggi-, Jughead, and Archie.” Betty turned the camera around and her three friends waved awkwardly, not really sure what to do. “We were just playing Cluedo.”

“Oh.” Betty could hear the disdain in her mother’s tone and wanted to crawl under a blanket and hide there for an eternity. “I see you’re still hanging out with that Jug Head boy. I get a strange feeling about him and I don’t appreciate you spending time with him.” If looks could kill, Alice would’ve been dead as soon as she uttered his name.

“Listen Mum, I have something to tell you, and knowing you, you might want to sit down.” Betty’s tone was channeling her mother’s as she moved over to sit next to Jughead. “Jughead isn’t just a friend, he’s actually my boyfriend. We’ve been going out for a while and nothing you say or do is going to change that.” Alice looked shocked and Jughead was half worried she was going to faint. She opened her mouth to retaliate but Betty quickly cut her off.

“I strongly advise you to think about the next words that come out of your mouth, Mum, because I am this close to hanging up.” Jughead draped his arm across her shoulder and pulled Betty into his side, placing a kiss to her forehead. He was so proud of Betty for standing up to her mother that he couldn’t help himself, even if Alice was right there and able to see the whole thing.

“Elizabeth Jane Cooper, how dare you speak to me like this. You are becoming more and more like Polly every day and I won’t have a bar of it. I am going to have a talk to your father about this as soon as he gets home and I can assure you, he will not be happy with your behaviour.” Alice sounded trill and furious, a strange combination that somehow made her even more intimidating to Jughead, but Betty wasn’t backing down.

“Oh go ahead Mum. What’s he gonna do about it? It’s a bit hard to punish me from the other side of the world isn’t it? And thank you for saying that I’m becoming more and more like Polly because she’s a better person than you will ever be,” Betty yelled at her phone, quickly hanging up before Alice could get another word in. She took a deep breath and leant further into Jughead’s side. The room was absolutely silent as Betty reached forward to take her turn, counting out the squares and making her way into the pool room.

“Scarlet, candlestick, observatory,” Betty said calmly, a complete contrast to her tone seconds ago. Archie handed her the small yellow envelope and she threw the cards on the board without even looking at them first.

Scarlet. Candlestick. Observatory.

--------------------

Later that night, Betty climbed into her bed and lay her head against Jughead’s chest, curling into him. His fingers came up to run through her hair and she shifted slightly to look up at him.

“Both times I’ve talked to your mum have ended with you defending Polly and then hanging up,” Jughead said with a chuckle. Betty smiled up at him sheepishly.

“You probably think I’m crazy with a mother like that.” She tried to play it off as a joke but Jughead could hear the anxiety in her voice, creeping in and convincing her of impossible things. She shifted once more so she was lying across him, her head still resting on his chest as she stared up at the ceiling.

“Babe, we’re not our parents,” Jughead reassured her, repeating her words from what felt like a lifetime ago. “You know me better than to think I’d judge you for your mum. My dad is way worse and you’re still here so I’d have no excuse.” Betty chuckled halfheartedly in response and Jughead noticed the tears rolling down the side of her face. He moved his fingers from her hair and ran them over her cheek.

“What is it really?” Jughead didn’t sound rude or even slightly curious. Betty could hear how worried he was but she refused to look at him, not wanting him to see her cry even though he had many times before.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Betty said unconvincingly, quiet sobs escaping her lips.

“Betts, come on. Please tell me what’s going on.” She finally gave in and curled up into a ball on his chest, hiding her face behind her knees.

“What if I’ve screwed things up? What if she hates me? I know that she has a strange way of showing it but she just wants the best for me and I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just sort of … snapped. It was like every snide remark and undermining comment hit me all at once and I couldn’t help myself,” Betty confessed quietly, sobs distorting her words.

“You are so strong and I am so proud of you for standing up to her. I know it doesn’t feel like it but you did the right thing. She’ll come around eventually and if she doesn’t, well, at least you can easily avoid her for another couple of months,” Jughead suggested light-heartedly, wrapping his arm around her small frame and pulling her impossibly closer. A small watery laugh filled the dark room and Jughead could feel tears threatening to spill out of his own eyes.

Not only was it killing him to see Betty like this but the constant reminder of the ticking clock on their relationship was starting to get to him. Most of the time he could ignore that little voice in the back of his head that was constantly taunting him, telling him they were bound to crash and burn, becoming a mess of flames before her plane even left the tarmac. Most of the time he could let it fade into the background but lately it had been getting louder and louder, a constant attack on the walls he had built around it and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“How do you always know just what to say?” She was still curled up inside his arms but her voice sounded slightly stronger, the watery quality it had possessed moments ago suddenly disappearing.

“You just make it so easy,” he mumbled into her hair, still fighting to control his emotions. He felt her relax and after several still minutes he assumed she’d fallen asleep. He felt himself start to drift off when her timid voice cut through the silence.

“What are you going to do about your dad?” All of a sudden he was wide awake, his fingers instinctively moving back through her hair even though she wasn’t the one that needed comforting.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, suddenly thankful for the cover of darkness as the tears he’d been fighting so hard to fight came crashing down. Since the incident with his dad the weekend before he’d been trying not to think about it, trying to keep busy so he could ignore the dark corners of his mind that were starting to encroach on the light.

“I don’t know what there is to do.” His voice was the softest whisper but he knew that Betty could hear him. Her thumb started drawing mindless patterns on his chest and the steady pace of her breathing was keeping him grounded, stopping him from getting sucked into his thoughts.

“I think you need to talk to Fred,” Betty said quietly. Jughead sighed, trying to calm himself down and stop the river of thoughts that managed to slip through his careful defenses.

“I know,” he said as he held her tighter, his fingers still running through her hair. He took a deep breath before continuing, surprised his tears weren’t evident in his voice. “I know but I’m scared. What if I tell him what happens and he tells me to go with my dad? I can’t, I can’t face another person leaving me Betts.”

Betty’s heart dropped. How could she do that to him? How could she leave him? She managed to stop herself from spiraling, telling herself that this was about Jughead and not a good time for her to have another attack. She reached into her hair and placed her hand on top of his, pulling it down to her lips and kissing him gently.

“You know Fred’s not going to do that. He loves you as if you were his own son. Sometimes I think he even likes you more than Archie.” Jughead let out a watery laugh, allowing himself to relax slightly.

“You have no reason to be scared Jug, everything will turn out exactly as it should.” As soon as she said it, Betty wasn’t sure if her words were for her or for Jughead. He leant forward slightly and kissed her forehead, relishing in the way she chased his lips once they left her skin.

“I love you and I’ll always be there for you,” Betty said softly, a small smile on her face as she recited the words that were written in Jughead’s messy handwriting and taped over her bed.

“Hey, get your own lovingly encouraging words,” Jughead teased, pulling her hand up to his lips.

“But yours work so much better,” Betty whined playfully, curling tighter into his chest.

“Fine, but only this once,” Jughead conceded, dropping a kiss to the top of her head as they fell into a content silence. Both of them fell asleep with small smiles on their faces and an uncharacteristic calmness in their thoughts.

--------------------

“Betts. Betts, wake up. We need to get going,” Jughead whispered to his sleeping girlfriend, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. Betty reached a hand up and placed it on his, her eyes still closed as she continued sleeping.

“Betty come on. We need to leave soon.”

“What’s going on Jug,” she asked drowsily, her voice hoarse from the few hours of sleep she’d had. “What time is it?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Jughead fibbed, quickly changing the subject. “But get up because there’s something I want to show you.” Betty begrudgingly pushed back the duvet, crawling out of her blanket cocoon and pulling on the first things she could find from the pile of clothes on her chair..

“This had better be good,” she muttered as she walked over to him, finally managing to get her head through the right hole of her shirt.

“I promise it’ll be worth it. I know how much you hate getting woken up,” Jughead said with a chuckle as he reached for Betty’s hand and lead her out of the apartment.

The couple made their way to the Andrews’ house, Jughead practically carrying Betty as she tried to avoid falling back to sleep. The streets were empty so they arrived mere minutes later. Jughead helped Betty into Fred’s truck as soon as they arrived, shutting the door quietly so as not to startle her. He unlocked the front door and slipped into the house, heading towards the stairs until a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You know you don’t have to sneak in. Archie told me you guys were going to be out for the night,” Fred called out from the couch as he gulped the dregs of his coffee, amusement evident in his tone.

“Oh, hi Fred. I didn’t see you there. Um, yeah, I’m taking Betty somewhere and I need to grab my camera,” Jughead mumbled, slightly flustered at getting caught despite having done nothing wrong.

“I’m just teasing, Jughead. Where are you two going at four in the morning?” Fred inquired, setting his empty coffee mug on the floor beside him.

“We’re gonna go watch the sunrise but I have somewhere specific in mind.”

“Alright then. Stay safe, and I need the truck tonight so don’t be back too late.”

“Ok, thanks Fred,” Jughead called out as he clambered up the stairs. His thoughts wandered to Betty as he searched for his camera, her words from the night before came back to him. He found his camera balancing on some of Archie’s unopened textbooks and quickly made his way back down the stairs. Fred was still sitting on the couch, Vegas having joined him while Jughead was upstairs.

“See you later Jug,” Fred said, his attention still trained on Vegas.

“Will do. There’s something I need to talk to you about but we can do it later. I’ll see you tonight.”

“That sounds ominous. Drive safe.” Jughead waved in response as he headed out the door. Betty was asleep against the passenger door and he chuckled to himself at the sight. He knew she hated missing out on sleep but he really hoped his surprise would be worth it. He walked around the truck and climbed in behind the steering wheel, reaching over to do up Betty’s seatbelt before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. She smiled lazily in her sleep, leaning over onto his shoulder as he carefully did up his own seatbelt and pulled out onto the empty road.

--------------------

Betty woke up an hour later, her head jolting upright as Jughead failed to avoid a pothole in the road.

“Sorry about that, I thought it was smaller,” Jughead apologised, taking his eyes off the road for a few seconds to look at her. She blinked slowly at him, a bewildered look clouding her expression.

“Where are we?” Betty asked, looking away from him to stare out the window. Everything was still dark but there was a soft blue light slowly creeping out from behind the hills.

“Nowhere important but we’ll be arriving in a few minutes,” Jughead said mysteriously, a goofy smile on his face as he pictured her reaction when he finally uncovered his surprise. Betty let it go, knowing he wouldn’t give anything away.

True to his word, Jughead pulled just off the road a few moments later, cutting the engine and looking at her expectantly.

“We’re here.” Betty could hear the excitement in his tone but she wasn’t quite sure what why. Jughead hopped out of the truck and Betty followed him, standing next to him on the side of the road.

“And where exactly is here Juggie?” Jughead dropped a quick kiss to her lips, unable to stop smiling, before grabbing his camera out and a blanket out of the truck.

“You’ll see in a minute Betts.” Betty couldn’t make out his expression through the darkness but she could hear the happiness in his voice, bringing a smile to her own face. He lay the blanket down on a small grassy bank beside the truck, reaching for Betty and sitting her down beside him. They sat in silence, watching the blue light turn pink, then orange as he crept further into the darkness.

Then Betty saw it.

“Oh my God, Jug this is amazing!” Betty quickly kissed his cheek before jumping up from the blanket and wandering into the meadow that was now visible under the soft light of the vivid sunrise. Orange flowers littered the grass, stretching out to the foot of the hills. She wandered around with childlike curiosity, a huge smile lighting up her face. The sound of her laughter filled the quiet morning and Jughead reached for his camera, turning it on and snapping some photos, Betty too caught up in her own delight to notice the tell tale clicking sound.

“Jug can you put some music on?” She called out as she crouched down to pick a flower. Betty brushed her wild hair behind her ear, gently placing the flower on top. Jughead stood up and grabbed Betty’s phone off the passenger seat, plugging it into the speaker and putting her music on shuffle.

Betty started swaying to the music, her arms swirling around her as she turned around to look at the sky, the sun now starting to peek out over the grassy hills. Jughead walked up slowly behind her, his camera clicking over and over again. He let it hang around his neck once he got closer to her, wrapping his arms around Betty’s waist, picking her up and spinning her around. A playful squeal escaped her lips and mixed with his laughter, both of them forget about the music and the flowers and the sky, their eyes only on each other.

Jughead eventually set her down in front of him, careful not to trample any of the flowers. He kept his arms around her waist and Betty laced her fingers behind his neck, resting her head on his chest as she swayed to the music once again. Jughead dropped a kiss to the top of her head, pulling her impossibly closer.

“I love you Jug,” Betty said quietly as she let her eyes flutter closed. Here she was in the most beautiful place she’d ever seen, somewhere that looked straight out of a dream, and all she could think about was him. The feeling of his hands around her waist, the steady beating of his heart against her cheek, the way his hair tickled her forehead when he leant down to whisper in her ear.

“I love you.” Everything felt perfect, and Betty knew it would feel the same if they were standing in a meadow of flowers or at a public swimming pool. Just being in his arms was enough to make her feel safe, enough to make her feel at home. Jughead’s voice broke her out of her reverie moments later.

“Especially in that shirt,” he said with a smirk. Betty pulled away slightly to look down at what she was wearing. A large ‘S’ was covering her front, telling her that she was in one of Jughead’s shirts.

“Sorry! You left it the other day and I meant to give it to you but I wanted to wash it first and then I must ha-” Jughead’s lips crashed onto hers, stealing her breath and her train of thought in one fell swoop. It was over as soon as it began and Betty couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when he returned to his full height.

“Keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” Jughead reassured her. Betty leant up and kissed his jaw, not able to reach any higher.

“Thanks Jug, I’ll take good care of it,” she reassured him with a goofy smile. She held onto him for a moment longer, savouring the moment before speaking up again.

“I know you bought your camera so you probably want to get some photos before the sun finishes rising,” Betty suggested quietly, not really want him to let go. She leant up and kissed him once more, letting her lips linger for a moment longer than usual before pulling away. He slowly untangled her from his arms and reached down to his side for his camera. She stayed close by, following him mindlessly as he moved around the meadow, taking shots from various angles.

Betty crouched down and let her fingers dance along the soft orange petals, letting her mind wander to another universe where things could stay like this forever. The two of them wandering aimlessly and discovering beautiful places from the comfort of each other’s arms. Jughead turned around and looked in Betty’s direction, noticing the wistful look on her face. He walked over and sat down on a patch of grass beside her, picking a flower and aimlessly twirling it between his fingers.

“You ok babe?” Betty sighed softly and shifted her attention from the flowers, looking at Jughead and taking note of his worried expression.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just a bit tired, that’s all,” Betty said with a soft smile, not wanting to bother him with her silly fantasies.

“If you say so. Sorry for waking you up so early,” Jughead replied, returning her smile. Betty could tell that he didn’t believe her but was grateful that he wasn’t pushing it. She’d already freaked out enough about her leaving, she wasn’t about to do it again and ruin this perfect morning he’d given her. She moved over slightly so she was sitting in front of him, reaching up and cupping his face.

“You have absolutely no reason to apologise Juggie. This was the most incredible surprise and I am so, so happy to be here with you, even if it does mean that I lost a few hours of sleep. Thank you Jug, really.” She waited a moment, letting her words sink in, before leaning forward and kissing the small smile right off his face. He reached his hands up and let them run through her tangled hair, knocking off the flower that had been balancing behind her ear. Betty shuffled forward and straddled his lap, their lips never parting as Jughead deepened the kiss, pulling her flush against him. Her hands were wandering everywhere; through his hair, down his back, along his arms before finally settling on his smooth stomach and resting under the hem of his shirt.

“Betts, you’re killing me,” Jughead mumbled against her mouth, moving his lips away from her skin for mere seconds before starting a trail across her jaw and down her neck, setting her on fire. Her hands started wandering again, moving slowly towards his chest and taking his shirt with her. Jughead was moments away from pulling it over his head when Betty pulled away slightly, resting her forehead against his to keep herself upright.

“I … we need to stop,” Betty said breathlessly, her chest rising and falling in time with his. Jughead nodded slightly, his cheeks suddenly flushing red.

“Mhmm just … just give me a minute.” Betty giggled as she climbed off his lap, grabbing his camera and bouncing away. She turned around and pointed it at him, capturing Jughead sitting amongst the flowers, staring inently at something straight ahead. Jughead heard the click of the lens and snapped out of his gaze, turning around to see Betty pointing the camera at him.

“Hey!” He yelled out, a fake harshness in his tone as he stood up and started walking towards her. Betty giggled again and started running backwards away from him, keeping the camera trained on him and snapping photos as he chased her through the meadow. He finally caught her as they reached the truck, both of them doubling over with laughter. Jughead kissed her softly once they’d both caught their breath, stealing the camera from around her neck and grabbing the blanket they’d abandoned on the grass.

Betty was already ready to go by the time he’d taken some final photos of the meadow, the sun now sitting on top of the hills. She was fiddling with her music, trying to find a good song. As soon as Jughead had hopped in the car and started the engine, Betty wound down her window and turned up the stereo. She held her arm up the window and let the waves of air have it’s way, the wind whipping her hair around her face as she sung out loudly for whoever happened to be listening.

Jughead found himself feeling strangely content, a feeling he couldn’t remember having very often before he’d met Betty. He knew in that moment that he would do whatever it took to keep her, to stay with her, to be a part of her life, no matter how small.

“What are you smiling at?” Betty asked, reaching her arm over and resting it across his shoulders, fiddling with the curly hair at the base of neck as she looked at him curiously.

“You,” he stated simply, his smile growing as he looked over at her. She leant across the console and kissed his cheek.

“Good, because if it was Archie I would have some questions.”

--------------------

After a morning at Pop’s filed with milkshakes and fries, and an afternoon filled with, well, other things, Jughead pulled up in front of the Andrews’ house. He sat in the car for a few moments longer than would have been deemed necessary, trying not to psych himself out.

“Just, think of what Betty said, ok? Everything will turn out exactly as it should,” Jughead mumbled to himself under his breath. Letting go of his tight grip on the steering wheel and climbing out of the truck. He dragged his feet up the few wooden steps, opening the front door and heading straight for the kitchen, suddenly becoming very thirsty. Of course, with Jughead’s luck, Fred was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and drinking tea.

“Hey Fred, I put the keys to the truck by the door,” Jughead said as he walked into the room. Half of him hoped that Fred had forgotten that small detail of their talk that morning and the other part of him just wanted to get the conversation over and done with.

“Thanks Jug. How was your day?” Fred asked, handing Jughead a glass of water he must have grabbed while Jughead was lost in thought.

“It was great, yeah, it was … great.” Jughead meant to take a sip of his water but ended up drinking the whole thing in one gulp. Why was he so nervous? This was just a simple conversation with Fred. He could manage that, right?

“Since when do you say great?” Fred wondered aloud with a chuckle, setting his empty glass in the sink. “Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about this morning?”

“Oh, um, yeah. So, Archie probably already told you but, um, well my dad asked me to move back in with him,” Jughead finally managed to stutter out. Judging by Fred’s unchanged expression, Jughead figured he already knew. Betty’s words we're bouncing around his scattered thoughts, giving him the clarity he needed.

“I told him I didn’t want to. I told him I didn’t want to give up the good thing I have going here for the maybe I’ll be getting if I leave.” Jughead fixed his eyes on his glass, not sure if he could look at Fred when he got rejected from another person’s life, another home.

“Ok,” Fred stated, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Wait, what?” Jughead finally looked up from his glass with a puzzled look on his face, Fred’s caring expression not quite calculating.

“Ok,” he repeated with a slight chuckle.

“But, but what do you mean ‘ok’?” Jughead was still bewildered, Fred’s repetition of the word not exactly clarifying things.

“I mean ‘ok’. It’s fine Jughead. If you want to stay, I completely understand and Archie and I are more than happy for you to keep living here. If you want to go with your dad and your family, I understand that too. It’s up to you but I will fully support you in whatever you choose.”

“Thanks Fred that, that means a lot to me.” Jughead’s voice was small and soft as he tried to figure out what just happened. He was accepted and truly wanted by someone and a small part of him was shocked into disbelief. Who would’ve thought that he, Jughead Jones, would be loved and appreciated and have people to call family, a place to call home?

“Anytime Jug. I know it wasn’t easy for you to talk to me about this but I really appreciate you telling me what’s happening in your life. I’m always here for you, if you need me.” Fred reached an arm out and clapped Jughead on the shoulder, a rare sign of affection between the two. Jughead sent him a grateful smile before walking out of the room, the dark corners of his mind no longer seeming quite so intimidating.

He made his way upstairs and collapsed onto his bed, his mind racing at a million miles an hour as he finally processed what had just happened. He reached for his camera bag with a content smile on his face. As he pulled his camera out, a napkin floated onto his chest. He picked it up out of curiosity and found Betty’s bubbly handwriting carefully written on the flimsy tissue, little flowers doodled around the edges. Your arms always make me feel like home; your chin resting on my hair, your heart beating through your chest, your arms wrapped around me. Your name is the first thing that comes to mind when I think of home and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[thran-duils]

You’re Now Mine (Part 6)

Title: You’re Now Mine (Part 6) Summary:  I’ve decided to continue the drabble request into a three part series considering the requests to write more of it!

“Fulfilling a request for @lets-personofinterestontumbir! – “Could you do a drabble for the Persephone AU I don’t know If you’ve seen once upon a time but the episode 1x07 reminded me a lot of this story when the evil queen ripped out the huntsmen’s heart if you could do something like that it would be awesome. Thank you.” “ Words: 2,769 Warnings: DARK AF, Emotional/Mental abuse, SMUT

Masterpost || Persephone || Part 5 || Part 7 || Fanfic masterpost

“What would you be doing right now if you were allowed to do anything in the world, my dear?” Lucifer crowed, leaning back on the couch, stretching his arms out.

Hanging out with Sam and Dean, you thought to yourself before you could stop.

Lucifer’s face darkened and he snapped, “Not an appropriate answer.” Shifting, you murmured an apology under your breath. Lucifer demanded again, “What would you be doing?”

A million things ran through your mind but one thing stuck that you hadn’t been able to do for awhile. You met his eyes and said quietly, “Swim.”

He studied you for a few moments before questioning, “Swim?”

“Yes.”

Beckoning you with a finger, Lucifer called you over. You got up and came over to him and slipped into his lap. He touched your hips, his fingers tightening down. Your hands rested on his shoulders and he peered up at you with admiration.

“You have such… simple demands, princess.” You said nothing and his fingers caressed your sides. “I think I can grant you that, yeah? Just need to get you something to go in.”

Unable to help yourself, you quipped, “You mean you just don’t want me to go naked?”

A devilish grin spread across Lucifer’s face and he chuckled, “Getting cheeky? I love it.” His hands pulled you closer to him and he continued, “No, I wouldn’t do that unless I knew it was just me that could see you completely nude.” He patted your ass and said, “I’ll come back and get you, princess. And then we can go to a place you can swim.”

<> <> <>

“Look at this!” Lucifer exclaimed, coming over to you immediately. His eyes were alight, looking you over.

You had walked out of a changing room at the lake, dressed in a criss-cross monokini. Lucifer had chosen a black one, surprising to you. You knew his affinity for blue but you actually liked the way that it fit you, the color of it.

His fingers ran across your bare skin and he smirked at you. “See, not completely naked.”

“You’re really going to go and sit there while I swim around?” you asked, disbelieving, your eyes running over his outfit. He looked nothing like someone prepared for a swim or the lake in general.

“I need a distraction,” Lucifer answered, stroking your face calmly. “And what better one than you, princess?” You averted your eyes – or tried to before Lucifer made you look at him again. “You look exquisite as always.” His hand fell down, behind your back, pulling you to him. “Daddy’s pleased with what he sees.” He gave you a quick kiss and said, “Go on, now. Find a place to swim.”

You did as he asked and swam around the lake, taking your fill. It felt nice to be free of the area he had set for you in his domain. Surprisingly, they weren’t a lot of people at the lake despite the weather and you had a feeling Lucifer had a part in that. To be honest, you had noticed but hadn’t cared. All that mattered that you were topside and had time to indulge in something that you loved to do. The only thing that was missing was Castiel enjoying it with you. And Sam and Dean.

Coming back to the shore after, you met Lucifer at the edge. And not to your surprise, he looked wanton watching you walk out of the water, dripping wet from the water and barely clothed. He had taken off his coat and was standing there in only his dress pants. His chest was heaving slightly seeing you and you watched his bare chest rise and fall as you approached.

He was on you in a second, tearing your swimsuit for your body. You gasped slightly, the wet material tugging on your skin slightly as he tore it off.

“Lucifer –” you started to protest, worried about passersby.

“Do you honestly think I would let that happen?” he growled, reading your mind as he laid you on the towel he had already laid out.

His fingers were on your pussy, playing quickly. You whimpered and his lips were on you, stifling your cries. His fingers delved deeper, and you groaned against his mouth, but he kept kissing you.

When he did pull away slightly, his nose still brushing yours, you mewled as his thumb caressed your clit.

“You won’t escape me, dove,” Lucifer husked, nipping at your ear.

“I know, daddy,” you breathed out in short breaths.

Lucifer’s pupils dilated hearing you and his fingers were gone from your cunt immediately. You could barely register him snapping his fingers, his naked form and him lining himself up with you. He entered you with a swift thrust and you cried out. His mouth was on yours again, kissing you with the tandem he was thrusting into you with.

He increased his speed, hitting your core. Your arms wrapped around him, your nails digging into his back with every brush against your spot. Lucifer was burying himself in you hilt deep with every buck, holding you tight.

Your sight was blinded by your orgasm in no time and you gripped him tightly, holding him to you as he came undone inside you with a groan, burying his face in your neck.

“I love you, princess,” he grunted.

Your heart caught in your chest, hearing him utter those words. Your legs were still wrapped around his hips as he panted, coming down from his high. Him telling you that had sobered you up in a sense, your elation from your orgasm leaving quickly.

What was happening…

Did he mean it?

Just as he had fallen into your embrace, Lucifer was up again, snatching his clothes up.

“If you want to swim more, princess, I’ll make some time.”

His tone was completely different than it had been moments before and you felt dismay. If he noticed, he didn’t show it. He was completely dressed again.

Swallowing, you sat up. You forced yourself to shake your head. “No… I’m fine.”

Lucifer didn’t seem bothered by your off standish behavior. “Alright. Come on.”

He said he loved you. You still couldn’t shake it. But, you did force yourself to get up off the towel and grab the short cover dress that you had brought along with you. You didn’t want to take the time to put your swimsuit on again, opting to throw the dress over your head. You just wanted to go home… or what had become your home.

<> <> <>

A couple of days later, you were sitting down, playing a card game against yourself. Lucifer hadn’t been back for over twelve hours as you could count by the clock he had left. You don’t know why he had put one in here but he had. It actually made you angry sometimes when he didn’t come back in a certain amount of time.

The door opened and you looked up, seeing him enter. Your face fell a little bit seeing that he was not alone but two demons were behind him. They were carrying something with them and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. They placed the object down on one of the side tables next to the TV.

“Where have you been?”

Lucifer acknowledged you with a slight cock of the head before asking, “Working. Why?”

Your pride got the better of you and you didn’t say anything. But you knew he knew by the smug look on his face. Inhaling deeply, you turned your attention away and finished the hand you were playing on your game.

“Princess, I brought you something,” Lucifer told you, gesturing at the object the demons had put down on the side table. You watched him warily, not sure of what he was doing. The demons backed off of him with a brush of his hand. He walked towards you and bent down to be at eye level. Smiling at you, he cupped your face. “It’s a gift.”

You inquired uneasily, “For?”

“Being a doll?” Lucifer tried, shrugging sheepishly. “When I’m not here, I know you’re lonely.” He reached out and waved at the object. The demons picked up on his meaning, grabbing the blanket off the top of the cage and they pulled it off. Immediately, two parakeets started chirping, hopping around the cage at the sight of light. They were budgerigar – you knew as much considering past experience – the common ones. One was completely light blue adorned with grey wings and the other was green in the chest with white and grey wings.

They were graceful and sounded like you were topside.

Lucifer tried, “You can bond, right? Similar circumstances and all?” Your face fell and you knew Lucifer noticed because he immediately frowned. And by the way of it, you knew it wasn’t sincere, regardless of what he said. “Alright, bad comparison?”

You said nothing, averting your eyes from him.

He tried again. “I want you to be happier. And having some… things that will help you think of being topside. You like it so much – which is a mystery to me – but whatever makes you happy, princess. Whatever helps.”

Again, you said nothing, unsure of how to react. Lucifer narrowed his eyes slightly, gauging your reaction. He stood up, leaving you. Moving towards the cage, he picked up the blanket.

“Well, apparently, you are not into the idea. Fine, I’ll take them away.”

Something caught in your chest and you pushed yourself up off the ground. You started towards him, “No!”

He stopped, a smirk playing on his lips.

Walking over to them, you pushed past Lucifer, your hand resting on the cage. They chirped, backing away from your hand, watching you apprehensively. One was more timid, hiding behind the other. For all intents and purposes, they did have a similarity to you. But, unlike your life, you were the looming threat in theirs as they cowered in their own cage.

The braver one hopped forward to your surprise, coming towards you. Hesitantly, you pushed a finger through the lining of the cage, petting it gently. They didn’t move and you were surprised. You knew from past experience that parakeets bit, but this one actually seemed to trust you. You smiled, your finger stroking its feathers.

“Two peas in a pod,” Lucifer commented from behind you and you turned your head to look at him. “Or three I mean…” He chuckled. “You’re a mix of them. That seafoam gown was a good pick for today.”

He paused and then stated his voice tight, “A good response to this would be ‘Thank you’”

You stammered, “Thank you.”

Lucifer smiled at this before waving the demons off. The left quickly and he held you close. “I hope you see how much I appreciate you, princess.”

Pushing away the memory of him being close and then stoic a couple of days before, you answered, “I do.”

Lucifer trailed his hand down, his finger circling your nipple through your dress. “Are you up for playing?” he cooed.

“Always,” you answered without hesitance.

He looked salacious as he pulled the straps off your shoulders and exposed you to him.

<> <> <>

You’d drifted off to sleep after you and Lucifer had finished and were woken up by a rough shake on the shoulder. You mumbled something trying to pull the blankets up, just wanting to sleep.

Your name came in a harsh whisper.

“Y/N!”

“What?” you whined, sitting up groggily, your blanket falling down.

“Christ, alright, cover yourself!” A familiar voice demanded in a hiss.

Your vision cleared and you saw Dean crouching next to the bed. And realized that you were still naked from having sex with Lucifer, your breasts exposed to him.

Quickly gathering the blankets up, you asked unsurely, “Dean? What…”

“We gotta go. Come on, get dressed,” Dean said in a hurry, his voice still low.

You looked around the room frantically. Your heart was beating fast, your mind racing. What was going on? Where was Lucifer? You were still in the room he had made. How was Dean here? And with that, was Dean real?

Then Sam appeared in the doorway, stuffing the demon blade, that was covered in blood, in his back pocket. “What’s going on?” he asked more to Dean than anything. His eyes flicked to you and he noticed the startled expression on your face. “Y/N? You alright?” To Dean he asked, “Are we going?”

“I…” you stammered looking between them.

“Get dressed!” Dean demanded in a hiss before standing up and walking back out towards the bedroom door, looking around on edge.

You were staring at his back in awe, not sure of how to react. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you looked up startled at Sam who had grabbed your shoulder.

“Y/N, come on. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Swallowing sharply, you pushed the covers back and Sam averted his eyes as you got out of bed. You walked over to your closet and opened the door, your eyes searching. There was nothing to run in if that’s what was required. All you had were dresses in there. There were a few skirts folded up on top but mostly, the long gowns that Lucifer liked you to wear. There was nothing else.

Stepping into the gown, you pulled it up, shimming it up past your hips and pulling the zipper up when it was in place. Something still didn’t feel right about the situation. Your mind kept going back to when Lucifer had tricked you. And he had been so angry. You didn’t want that again. Especially since…. he’d gone out of his way recently to do things for you. Not that that made any of it right in the first place. You felt sick thinking all of these conflicting feelings at once.

“Sam… I can’t…” you started to say as you turned around, tears pricking your eyes.

Sam wasn’t there. Neither was Dean.

Lucifer was looming in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe. You hadn’t even heard him come in, so lost in your thoughts.

Your eyes quickly roamed the room and you felt your heart sinking.

“What…” You quieted looking around again before your eyes landed on Lucifer. “Where’s…”

Lucifer ran his eyes up from your feet to your head, slowly. His eyes met your gaze and he cocked his head a bit. “You did slightly better this time, dove,” He mused before pushing himself off the doorway. He pointed at you as he walked closer, “I mean, you were about to turn Sammy boy down weren’t you?”

You swallowed sharply, your hands falling down to your sides. You couldn’t say anything to him, guilt, despair, and disappointment filling up inside you. You should have known it wasn’t real. Sam and Dean couldn’t get past Lucifer. He cared about protecting you too much, especially from them.

Lucifer had closed the space between the two of you and he played with a piece of your hair. “You’re coming along quite nicely, princess.” He paused before adding, “You’re not quite there though.”

One of his hands trailed down to your chest and you flinched, trying to get away from it. He held you tightly, his expression cold. There were a few intense moments were he stared you down, making you cower against his hand against your back. Anything to get away from the hand threatening on your chest.

Finally, he whispered, “I said you did well enough… I won’t punish you for that… yet.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice came out as a whisper and his expression softened slightly, studying you.

His hand left your chest and fell down to your hip. “Oh, I know… I know. They have such a hold on you. A toxic hold. But, I think we are making progress, princess. Really.”

He sounded sincere and leaned down, giving you a quick, deep kiss before pulling away. His fingers caressed your face once more before reaching behind you and unzipping the gown you had put on. He pushed it down your body, leaving you nude in front of him. He ordered, “Go back to bed, princess.”

Letting go of you, he stepped away before turning around and leaving the bedroom. And you standing there.

Your chest heaving, you held back your emotions as you timidly walked back towards the bed and got back under the covers. Snuggling up, you stared off towards the door for a few moments before burying your face into the down covers and hiding.

~~~

Castiel Tags: @prince-halfblood, @splendidcas, @klaineaholic, @letsthedogpackandthecats, @alexastacio, @winchesterforever12 @seirensou  @tacos-and-trenchcoats @the-amaranthine @intheir-dreams @study-me-misha @marisayouass @demonicguardianangel @lizziebearrawrrawr2728  @kcam1621

[kpopyourcherryy]

Mayday - vii

Genre; Thriller/Horrror; I suppose

Length; 2,100+ words

Warning(s); Violence, degradation

Mark’s P.o.v 

Sitting there, tears in his eyes as he waited to talk with a detective- Mark couldn’t help but to silent pray for you to come home tonight, to come home safe and sound as if this nightmare never happened. 

“Hyung..” Youngjae softly uttered, rubbing his friend’s shoulder, “We’re going to find her.. okay?” 

Mark sniffled, nodding as he wiped his nose with the sleeve of his sweater. “What if she’s scared, Youngjae?” He whimpered, holding back the river of tears that just begged to be released. “What if she’s hurt or-”  Just as he was about to go on a heart shattering rant, a young detective walked out; making his way over to the two of them. 

“Mark Tuan and Choi Youngjae?” He smoothly asked, adjusting his tie. 

Mark could hardly seem to form a word with out his tears threatening to break free,  “Ahh, yes sir-” Youngjae nodded, offering the older man a thankful smile; standing to properly introduce him and his hyung. “I’m Choi Youngae and this is my friend Mark Tuan..” 

Sighing, Mark quickly regained his composure standing as he finally got the courage to speak. “Yes, sir, we-” He said, choking up slightly, “We’re here to discuss my girlfriend.. “ 

“Yes, why don’t you gentle men follow me to my office.” He replied, leading the two of them down a narrow hall; into his spacious office. As the detective took a seat, he motioned to the ones in front of his desk; silently ushering them to sit.  “It just occurred to me that I haven’t introduced my self yet.” He said, pulling out to cards with his name and phone number on them. “I’m Detective Kim- I specialize in missing persons and abduction cases. Would either one of you gentlemen mind filling me in on the specifics?” Detective Kim as in a calm, soothing manner- turning on his laptop; presumably to take notes. 

“Well..” Mark replied, clearing his throat as he took a single deep breath. “It’s been a little over two days since my girlfriend has gone missing. She- “ He stuttered, tears formed in the corners of his eyes. 

“Here you go, sir,” Detective Kim pulled out some tissues from his desk, offering it to the shaken up man. “I know this must be difficult for you,sir, but please try to remain calm- I need to know every little detail about the day she went missing.” 

Mark simply nodded as he took the tissue paper, dabbing away his tears as Youngjae tenderly rubbed his back.  “She was fine, all day, except for the fact that she didn’t feel well.. She still went to work but was supposed to come home early because she was starting to feel sicker throughout the day.” He explained, “No one was home but our friend Jackson; he’d been sick so he had to take some time off from out schedules to recover..” 

Youngjae nodded in agreement, watching as the detective quickly typed away. “Jaebum, our other friend, and I got home before everyone else did.” 

Detective Kim looked up from the computer screen, raising a brow at the maknae. “Really? Did you notice any strange or out of order when the two of you got there?” 

At first he began to shake his head, “Not really..” Then suddenly he began to remember the condition of the dorm; he remember thinking it seemed as if a tornado had tore through it. “Wait- yeah, sort of..” He quickly added, “The dorm was a mess, things were just thrown everywhere..” 

The detective nodded, typing away once again. “Anything else?” 

“Our friend- Jackson, acted sort of strange..” He wearily added, “He had been acting so calm, but it probably is cause he’s been really sick like Mark-Hyung said, so I don’t know if that’s useful..” 

Nodding, Detective Kim noted everything he said. “Would you both be fine with me going and inspecting your dorm?” He asked, interlocking his fingers as he rested his arms on top his desk. “We need to see if there was any sign of foul play, also I would like to interview your friends- as well as everyone who is able to go to and from your dorm, freely.” 

Both men nodded, “Yes- Yes, of course.” Mark responded, tears formed again as his hope gradually increased. “Anything to bring her home.” 

A soft, thankful grin painted across Youngjae’s face, bowing slightly in his seat. “Thank you so much, Sir.” He replied, wiping the tears that began gathering at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand, “Everyone should be home right now- we’re all so worried about y/n, so we’re taking time off work for a little until she’s back.” 

Detective Kim stood from his seat, calming walking over to them. “We’ll bring her home, gentlemen. It sounds like you all deeply care about her.” 

Youngjae nodded, “Yes, of course we do. She’s like a little sister to us.. and Mark was planning to propose to her soon..” 

“Yeah..” Mark replied, his head hung low as he thought about how lost he’d feel without you; you were his rock- the only person able to keep him sane in his chaotic life. 

“We’ll bring her home, gentlemen. Don’t worry.” The detective comfortingly replied, with a soft sigh he stood up straight. “The two of you should go home, now- my partner and I will be there shortly.” 

“Partner?” Mark asked as him and his dongsaeng stood from there seats. 

Nodding, the detective calmly responded. “Yes, my partner is a crime scene investigator- while I interview your friends, she’ll be combing your dorm looking for anything that might be evidence. Will that be a problem?” 

Shaking his head in response, Mark responded with a simple, “No, sir not at all.” Before both of them thanked Detective Kim once more, then walked out. 

The walk out of the building was completely silent, but the moment the stepped outside. Mark just covered his face and screamed into the palms of his hands. “This is so fucking frustrating..” He add as he sunk down onto the sidewalk. “I want her home, Youngjae.. I want her back. I’m going to hurt whoever took her from me..”  

Youngjae crouched down beside his, rubbing his back. “Yah.. Hyung, don’t say things like that; we’ll get her back home, safe and sound. Alright?” Hugging his distraught friend, he held him tightly. “Let’s go home, we need to talk to everyone..” 

Y/n’s&Jackson’s p.o.v

As the passing days seemed to drag on for an eternity, the little hope you had of someone coming and rescuing you from this utter nightmare dwindled into nothing.  Your heart ached as you wondered if Mark- or any of the others, for that matter, were looking for you at all. You wondered if this was going to be your life from now on; were you really stuck with this unpredictable, crazed man for the rest of your life? 

You could hear Jackson making his way to the room, his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway as he called out for you. “Y/n?” He sweetly shouted, entering ‘your’ room. 

“What..?” You replied in a spiritless tone, bringing your knees into your chest; resting your head on them.  

“Yah-” He scoffed, shaking his head as he knelt down in front of you- his fingertips lightly grazed up and down your bare leg. “Why are you still like this, y/n? Aren’t you happy with me?” 

Shaking you head frantically, you peered up him; tears filled your narrowed eyes as you gave him a death glare. “No, Jackson- I’m not fucking happy!” You snapped, pulling away from his gently touch, “I want to fucking go home! I fucking hate you- you psychopath.” Your tears freely flowed down your cheeks as he seemed to not fully understand everything you had just said. 

Tilting his head slightly, he crept closer to you- lightly grazing your wet cheek with the back of his hand, “You are home, y/n..” He coldly purred as his leaned forward, his lips pressed against the corner of your mouth as you turned away from him.  Suddenly, his hand tightly wrapped around your throat as his fingertips squeezed the sides. “So.. I’d suggest you get fucking used to it and stop being a selfish little fucking brat..” He snarled, shoving you down onto the floor as he let you go; standing from his spot. 

“I brought you here, to our home- to show you how much I fucking love you, to show you how much I couldn’t bare seeing that piece of shit touch you any longer!” He angrily shouted, his large movements causing you to flinch as you helplessly sat there beneath him.  

The sound of his ringtone bellowed through the nearly empty room suddenly redirecting his attention. Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly pulled his from from his pocket. “Are you fucking kidding me.” He coldly stated to himself, rubbing his temple. 

You watched as he replied to whoever it was who messaged him, “Please.. just take me home, Jackson..” You softly pleaded, your head hung low as you felt his knife-like gaze suddenly burn into you. 

Stepping over to you once more, Jackson roughly took your face into his hand; forcing you to look up at him. “Y/n-” Your name rolled off his tongue in an animalistic growl as his dark, cold-blooded gaze loomed over you. “I don’t want to-” He began then suddenly landed a harsh, open hand slap across your cheek; forcing your tears to pour out. 

A pained, quivered whine flowed out of you as he held you in place, another sharp blow landed across your reddened cheek. Shutting your eyes, you tried to imagine you were anywhere else but here.  “Look at me, you stupid bitch!” He loudly snarled, violently shaking your head. 

Opening your eyes, your teary gaze automatically locked with his; your breath hitched as a cold chill ran down your spine.  That twisted, stomach churning smile of his returned, “Good girl..” He said in a pleased purr, gently shaking your head side to side once more.  “I don’t want to hurt you anymore, y/n, but you always leave me with no other choice.” He explained, that smile disappearing as he examined your reddened cheek. “You’re home, y/n. This..” Motioning around the dingy, almost sickly looking room, “This is your home, now..”

Your tears continued to stream down your face.  What if he’s right?

Standing from his spot, he looked at his phone once more then walked to another room; returning with a piece of paper and a pen. Handing it to you, he said, “I need to you write something down for me babygirl..”  God did you hate hearing him call you that..

“What?” You timidly questioned, taking the paper and pen from him. 

“Write down- I want you to find me and save me..” He replied, almost giggling to himself the moment he saw the look on your face. “I need to give Mark a little hope, don’t I?” 

Automatically you frantically shook your head, pushing the items away from you. “No.” You simply stated, “I’m not-”  Just before you could finish your sentence, he was on you again. Tightly squeezing your throat, cutting off your air as his piercing gaze seemed to burn right into you. 

“Write it now, y/n..” He growled again, his gentle demeanor changing in an instant. “Now..” 

A soft crackled whimper escaped you as you finally nodded. The moment he let go the air rushed into your lungs, burning as you took quick gasps attempting to steady your breathing.  Leaning down, you took the pen into your hand then shakily wrote the words he told you to. Tears fell down your cheeks, peppering the paper as you finished. “Here..” You meekly huffed, shoving the paper towards him. 

Patting your head, his fingers combed through your messy hair. “There ya go little one..” He purred, taking the paper and folding it in thirds before shoving it into a red envelope. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Though you just wanted to scream, kick, punch.. just anything at this point; you were too scared to. You sat there, sniffling as you stayed completely silent.

“I’m leaving now.” He said softly as he bent over and planted an apologetic kiss against your forehead; making you cringe and your heart ache as you remember how much you loved when Mark kissed you.  “Be a good girl for me while I’m gone.” He said, walking out of the room then seconds later the sound of a door opening then locking rang throughout the now empty house. 

“Mark..” You uttered shakily, your heart dropped as your head hung low. “Save me..” 

To Be Continued..

[happycakestories]

old mx fic dump pt. 4:

that one hybrid au i deleted but uhhh here it is in its unfinished form

Chapter 4: it’s so typical to say i like you (but i do) / everyday you make my heart race (but you can’t find out)

Title of series - to be young and in love

Series summary: a cheesy monsta x hybrid au

First work - hold my hand (I’ve been waiting for you)

Work summary:

“I mean what I said, you know.” Minhyuk utters calmly, finally interrupting Jooheon’s croaking laughter. “Like I don’t really see it, but you have the right to date whoever you want to at this point.”

Jooheon rolls his eyes, light pink dusting across his cheeks as Minhyuk brings up the same embarrassing topic from before. Still, the elder can’t stop himself from teasing again. “Even if he is a messy college student who orders the weirdest drink in the entire cafe. Your choice, I guess.” He shrugs lightly, purposely glancing away from the other’s progressively reddening cheeks.

-----------

The monsta x hybrid au no one asked for where honeypup find love through messy coffee dates and angry work conflicts.

Ch. 1 - coffee talk (caramel macchiato and iced americano)

Summary: Waking up late for early morning coffee warrants choking and cuddling - in that exact order.

“...on the outside I’m a bad girl, on the inside I’m a good girl-”

Jooheon awakens from the dredges of sleep to the sound of Miss A’s Bad Girl Good Girl blaring nonstop from his phone. He blindly gropes around until his fingers finally close around a vaguely solid object, and he retracts it quickly back under warm covers.

The blue glare of the call notification barely tells him anything except that it is way too early for anyone to be awake and calling him.

No one except for Minhyuk, of course.

Before the more reasonable part of his brain can stop him, he swipes the phone icon across the screen, answering the call.

“Hyung, why.” Jooheon cringes at the drag of his own voice, still rough from sleep. God, why does he sound so much like a chainsmoker?

A tinny, ever familiar voice rings through the speakers, so loud Jooheon’s ears immediately try to curl in on themselves. “Is that any way to greet your favorite person in the morning?”

“Actually, Hoseokie hyung is my favorite so you’re out of luck.” He grins to himself, already picturing Minhyuk huffing in feigned anger.

Seconds later, a burst of static rumbles through the speakers and a low mutter of “I can’t believe I put up with this level of disrespect!” floats across from the background. Jooheon turns his face into his many pillows, gasping as he muffles his giggles into the soft cotton.

The call crackles with static again before Minhyuk resumes speaking normally. “Well, I’m about to become your favorite hyung when I pay for your iced americano at 2Jae’s, so you’d better get your bunny butt out of bed! And yes I know you’re still in bed so don’t try to pretend you even have one foot out on the floor.”

“Hyung-”

“No buts, get moving before I actually come in there and drag you out by your perky ears! You do remember I have your apartment key right?”

“Yes, hyung - I was the one who gave it to you,” he sighs, a noise-induced headache already spreading through his brain.

“Ok, well - whatever, I’m going to be outside your door in 15 minutes and you’d better answer it dressed!” The call ends immediately after Minhyuk’s last syllable, and Jooheon collapses against his pillows, ears unfurling slowly when quiet surrounds them again.

He lets the phone slip loose from his fingers and slide down into whatever dark crevice that awaits it. He just needs a few moments to calm down from that rushed (and very loud) conversation.

Just five minutes. Maybe even seven. He’s gotten ready in less time than that before, so it should be completely fine. Minhyuk won’t even be able to tell whether he’s dressed up or not. Sweaters and sweatpants are acceptable, right?

Right. Ten minutes then to take a little rabbit nap.

--------

Jooheon blinks awake to the sound of his phone going off for the second time that morning.

And, of course, it is once again Minhyuk.

Who is pissed, according to the rapid stream of texts pinging into his inbox.

aka Minhyukuuu: i am literally right outside your door

aka Minhyukuuu: one minute carrot face

aka Minhyukuuu: istg lee jooheon

aka Minhyukuuu: 36 seconds and i am coming for your rabbit ass

Jooheon flails up, head spinning with vertigo as he scrolls frantically, dread building up with every pixelated word. His phone dings just as he reaches the last text, signalling another incoming message.

aka Minhyukuuu: 15 seconds

Fuck. He’s screwed isn’t he?

The phone is thrown onto the bed, bouncing away, discarded as Jooheon panics to stumble out of bed as fast as possible.

He trips over clothing strewn across the floor (sweaters, cardigans, and a suspicious pair of leather pants), and he plops down onto the carpet, pulling on whatever item is the most closely available as frantically as possible.

He’s got one leg in a pair of paint-stained jeans when an ominous thud echoes from the living room, followed immediately by pounding footsteps that roll towards his room like impending thunder.

Jooheon resumes his struggle with increased fervor, even though in the back his mind he’s already acknowledged his doomed fate. His panic grows even more when his tail refuses to cooperate, stubbornly clinging to his back instead of slipping through the specially designed hole at the waistband.

He’s about to give up and just yank it through by hand when his bedroom door slams open with bang, and he’s suddenly met with an angry, slitted stare.

His puffy tail chooses this exact moment to cooperate, and he quickly slips his jeans to his waist, buttoning and zipping up the fly before standing upon cramped legs. “Well, I’m technically ready now…” he grins weakly, faltering when Minhyuk only continues glaring, black ears twitching minutely in the morning light.

In a flash, his friend is no longer standing in front of him, and he’s suddenly flat against the ground again. He looks up to see the cat hybrid positioned over him in a hunched straddle, dangerously close with his hands caged around his head. Minhyuk’s eyes are still slitted forebodingly, but there’s a glimmer in his dark pupils that tells Jooheon he’s safe from actually being dragged out by the ears.

He pulls his ears flat against his face, pouting up at his friend with puppy, or in this case, bunny eyes. “Hyung,” he whines in his signature baby voice, “I’m sorry. Please,” he dials the puppy-bunny eyes up another notch, widening them as much as possible and squeaking out, “forgive me?”

His plan seems to have worked when the hands near his head start lifting away, and he breathes a sigh of relief, ears immediately springing upright back to their original position.

Unfortunately, he celebrated a bit too early.

Minhyuk’s hands dart back down around his face and lock on like two iron clamps, forcing Jooheon back down against the floor. Suddenly, his head is being lifted up and swung down in rapid succession, back and forth, back and forth, until all he can see is a blur of colors, like some violence induced acid trip.

When he’s finally dropped down, his ears are ringing in pain, and he folds them flat against his face, curling his hands gently over them. Minhyuk sits back (mind you, still on top of him) looking like the epitome of the cat who’s gotten the cream.

If the cream was a bunny in pain, then yep, that saying fits perfectly to the situation right now.

“Was that really necessary?” Jooheon whines, hands clenching over his still-ringing ears. Minhyuk only smirks back, lips curling up in pure satisfaction as his long tail waves lazily in and out of the corner of Jooheon’s eye.

“I suppose not…” he remarks, casually picking at a well-manicured finger, “but what would be the fun in that?” He turns a blindingly bright grin towards the rabbit hybrid trapped under him, feigning the perfect image of angelic innocence.

Jooheon splutters, and starts wriggling like a fish out of water until he displaces the man on top off him with an oomph. Fortunately, Minhyuk drops to the floor with all his grace intact (curse his cat genes) and barely bats an eyelash as he rolls elegantly into an upright position.

Jooheon huffs, disgruntled at his own messily sprawled state after their little morning tousle. Minhyuk only cocks an eyebrow at him, preening lightly through his hair as he directs a silent question towards the hybrid on the ground. Jooheon shakes it off, blinking away from the other’s stare. When he sits up, he can already feel a crook in his ear, and he reaches up to fiddle with it for a few minutes before the appendage finally straightens out on its own.

Slender hands come to card through his hair, scratching across his scalp to rest gently at the base of his ears. They start massaging smoothly at the curved bone there, caressing with well-placed touches until the bunny hybrid is a melted puddle of nerves.

Minhyuk allows Jooheon to rest against his chest, only twitching minutely when fluffy ears brush across his face. It’s a silent apology, his stubborn way of saying sorry for wrestling his childhood friend of many years to the floor and choking the life out of him.

It’s good enough for Jooheon, the event already forgotten in a hazy sea of neurons and synapses, each one after the other firing off bright signals of pleasure through his bunny brain. He makes some sort of purring sound, a rumble deep in his chest as Minhyuk’s fingers continue to work their apologetic magic up to the tips of his ears.

“Are we good?” the cat hybrid murmurs quietly, slitted pupils following the pale curve of the other’s closed lids as he awaits an obvious answer.

“Yeah,” Jooheon hums, revelling in the tingling across his scalp. “Yeah, we’re definitely good.”

Skilled hands are replaced by a soft pair of lips that plant a quick peck on the crown of his head as arms circle around his neck in a warm hug. Jooheon returns it just as affectionately, clinging to the arms around him and snuggling contentedly against them.

“Good,” Minhyuk sighs out in relief, his breath disturbing wisps of curled blonde hair in the process.

“You’re still buying coffee for me though,” Jooheon grins up at his friend, who rolls his eyes in acceptance.

“Fine,” Minhyuk grimaces, knees popping as he pulls both of them to their feet. He smooths down invisible wrinkles on his black turtleneck, re-tucking it around skin-tight jeans. “But I get to pick our orders.”

“Good enough for me! Free coffee is free coffee.” Jooheon concedes, eyes crinkling in amusement as he watches Minhyuk’s inner cat preen through his barely rumpled clothes and hair.

Minhyuk finishes smoothing down the fur on his ears, his cat side temporarily satisfied, and marches towards the door. He automatically grabs onto Jooheon, latching onto the other’s fraying sweater sleeve and pulls the bunny hybrid to his side. Jooheon follows accordingly, catching up to Minhyuk until they’re shoulder to shoulder, eye to eye, and ear to ear.

He can’t resist reaching over and giving a gentle stroke to the cat hybrid’s perked ear. It twitches slightly under his fingers, but he persists, slowly stroking the fur in long petting motions. Minhyuk raises a brow, but he’s clearly not resisting so Jooheon gets a few more pets in before reluctantly dropping his hand.

“Your fur is nice…” he mumbles by way of an explanation, immediately blushing and fiddling with the hand that had been touching those soft, soft ears.

Minhyuk looks over, watching heat stir in the other’s cheeks over something so menial, so innocent in its intent. He reaches over and pinches Jooheon’s downturned nose, eliciting a surprised yelp.

The bunny hybrid turns toward him, clutching his nose with more shock than actual pain. “What was that for?” he muffles out from behind his hand.

“It was for being too cute,” Minhyuk replies haughtily, turning his face up towards the ceiling. Jooheon laughs, used to the other’s hot-and-cold attitude, but there’s still a smattering of pink dusted on his cheeks.

This time they walk out even closer than before, arms linked as happiness buzzes warmly through them. Jooheon leans into the crook of Minhyuk’s shoulder, and Minhyuk lets furry ears tickle against the side of his neck without complaint.

----------

2Jae’s is still relatively empty when the two arrive, save for a few truly early businessmen and the bleary eyed baristas.

They enter with a light ding of the bell on the door and are instantaneously immersed into the world of coffee, indie beats, and terrariums overflowing with lush greenery.

It’s one of the best places in town.

The recommended specials are always drawn cutely with colored chalk onto a blackboard tacked behind the counter. Today they read: vanilla sweet brew, almond milk macchiato, honey lemon tea, and “full love impact.”

The last option has been on there for months at this point, so much so that it should no longer be a daily special. However, there seems to be some kind of feud between the two owners of the cafe over that drink; something about it being too indecent for the public eye and a disgrace to the cafe that it’s even available as a potential order.

(It was screamed from the back of the cafe so distinctly one day that no one could pretend they hadn’t heard it. At this point, there’s some kind of unspoken consensus for it to be ignored among all the workers and customers)

Today, it’s been rewritten in pink chalk with excessively shiny hearts doodled around it. Really, whoever has to do this everyday should be paid extra for this kind of trouble. In fact, it must be the worst waste of supplies because who even has the nerve to order a drink called “full love impact” ?

Minhyuk ignores the last option as usual and goes ahead to order his usual caramel macchiato and Jooheon’s iced americano. Their cashier smiles charmingly at a familiar face, already typing in the order before Minhyuk can even open his mouth.

“Thank you Youngjae-ssi,” Minhyuk nods his head slightly to the part-time cashier and full-time owner of the cafe. He decides to wait at the counter, seeing as no one else is up in line right now. The machines whir soothingly as Youngjae mixes the drinks, and the cat hybrid watches dazedly from his flopped position in front of them.

It’s nice enough he almost dozes off, but he catches himself just in time to accept the drinks fresh off the press. He grudgingly pays for both, Jooheon’s dimpled smile keeping the promise fresh in his mind.

With both drinks in hand, Minhyuk turns to leave before an errant thought catches him in his steps. Compulsively, he turns back to Youngjae, who glances up from the register at his return.

“Youngjae-ssi,” Minhyuk hesitates, question wildly running through his mind before he brashly continues. “Why is that last order still up as a daily special after all this time?”

He’s met with a deafening silence that seems to spread throughout the whole cafe. Even the birds outside quiet for a moment, perhaps in mourning of Minhyuk’s inevitable fate after this question.

Youngjae’s wide smile is still plastered across his face, but there’s something about it that doesn’t reach his eyes, nor the rest of his usually cheery demeanor. His half-rounded, pebble brown mouse ears have started twitching minutely, and Minhyuk thinks he can see a skinny tail slowly rising up from behind the cafe owner’s back as well.

“You’re right Minhyuk, why is it still up, huh?” The words grind out from between pressed lips, and the cat hybrid almost flinches at the suppressed rage hidden within Youngjae’s rhetorical reply.

The cafe owner’s expression immediately drops, becoming apologetic at Minhyuk’s shock. His tail relaxes slightly, but the line of his lips is still slightly strained. “Ah, I didn’t mean to take out it on you Minhyuk. It’s just been a bit of a, how would you say this, point of contention between my mate and I.”

By that he means Jaebum, a panther hybrid who makes up the second half of the 2Jae duo, resident sweetheart, and Youngjae’s husband of 3 years. Also, the apparent perpetrator of the cursed “full love impact” drink.

Minhyuk is still relatively confused, but there’s something about Youngjae’s words that prompts him to close his big mouth to any further questions. Youngjae and his husband have always been a model example of a successful marriage - complete with love and financial success - so it leads the cat hybrid to wonder what kind of divisive conflict could be behind such a simple drink.

He’s cut off when Youngjae’s apologetic mask immediately switches into one of placid professionalism when he glances past Minhyuk. It’s another early morning customer - a college student at first glance. He’s got short, choppy hair, bangs ruffled most likely from a night without sleep, and Minhyuk takes pity on him as he remembers his own schooling days.

He steps aside, reluctantly letting go of his question for the sake of being polite. He finally heads back to Jooheon with their drinks dripping wet from condensation, smiling fondly when the bunny hybrid shoots up eagerly from his previously sprawled position. He makes grabby hands at the drink, flapping his oversized sleeves in the process. Minhyuk hands over the iced americano without a moment’s hesitation.

He slides onto the high-topped stool across from the other man and starts sipping at his own drink as well. The sweet flavors hit his tongue with a gentle familiarity, and he sighs at the rush of caffeine through his system. The sun hits his entire right side at the most perfect angle, and Jooheon grins cutely at him over his own straw.

Yeah, it’s a good morning.

His “moment” is interrupted when hissed whispers arise from the counter, his sensitive ears immediately snapping towards the direction of the sound. Jaebum’s arrived behind the register, and he’s receiving the college student’s order with a tight smile on his face; all the while, Youngjae is muttering what must be insults behind his mate with fury simmering in his eyes.

“One order of Full Love Impact to go?” The college student nods noncommittally, seemingly unaware of the tense conflict taking place behind the counter.

Minhyuk is still in shock over the fact that anyone would order that drink out of their own free will, much less a sleep-deprived student who should be living off of pure black coffee at this point in his life. Jooheon’s ears have also perked towards the counter, eyes widening comically as he takes in the scene before them.

The ridiculous drink is prepared with little to no effort, and before long, the boy has the drink in hand and is sipping at it without a care in the world for the struggle he’s incited. God knows what’s in that beverage, but something about it makes his previously dead stare melt into an adorable smile, complete with crinkles at the edge of his eyes. Combine that with his tousled looks, and there’s suddenly an attractive sense of boyish handsomeness about him.

And it looks like Minhyuk’s not the only one who’s noticed this either.

Jooheon’s lips have dropped open around the straw, too distracted by the view to even remove his mouth from the plastic appendage. His eyes track the college student’s movements all the way to the front of the cafe, only blinking away when the boy is no longer in sight. There’s a high flush on his cheeks as he resumes sucking away at his drink, and his ears have started quivering down towards his cheeks.

Pink lips have pulled themselves into a pointed pout around the straw, and Minhyuk can already tell the plastic around the tip is going to be shredded silly once Jooheon decides to remove his mouth from the tube. He’s always had a bad habit of nibbling at things and this time, it’s of no exception.

The cat hybrid reaches over, gently pinching a soft cheek to get his friend’s attention. Jooheon finally comes out of his flushed trance and lifts his mouth off of a wilting straw. He looks up at his friend with innocent eyes, slowly lifting his ears away from his face as his embarrassment fades.

“You know, you weren’t being obvious at all when you were checking out that kid.” Blood immediately returns to the his cheeks, long ears snapping back down rapidly to hide his face.

“Shut up, I was not-”

“Yes, you were.” Minhyuk cuts him off bluntly with a dead stare. “Look, you’re doing that thing with your ears again-” The rabbit hybrid’s ears immediately snap upwards. “Don’t even think you can attempt to fool me at this point Lee Jooheon. Are you trying to insult our lifelong friendship?”

“No…” Jooheon quietly pouts, “but you don’t have to be harsh about it.” He glances around furtively, pupils twitching nervously as he takes in the still-empty cafe and breathes a sigh. He automatically starts fidgeting with his ears again, pulling the furry tips towards his cheek.

The cat hybrid scoffs, languished as he leans back against his seat and tipping his chin towards the ceiling. It’s decorated with finely painted wood beams that host clear, bell-shaped lamps dangling down from smooth, black cords. If he stares long enough at the soft lighting maybe Jooheon will stop being the adorable mess that he is on too many occasions - including right now.

“There’s no way anybody noticed that you had the hots for a messy college student,” Minhyuk comments, still stretching backwards. “Besides me of course.” He smirks proudly when he hears “of course you did” muttered almost indistinguishably across from him.

“But really,” he pulls himself forward, curling his tail around a chair leg to steady himself, “what did you see in that guy? I mean he was cute and all, but really, that drink choice would’ve ruined it for me.”

Jooheon sticks out his tongue, narrowing slim eyes at his so-called friend. “First of all, you’re not me. And yes -” he continues quickly as Minhyuk opens his mouth to argue, “there is a difference between knowing someone for most of their life versus actually living their life and generally existing as them, okay?”

The older hybrid huffs a breath as he pointedly looks out the window, defeat sullenly written across his face. He shouldn’t be so worked up about Jooheon’s little outburst, but something about it irks him to an indescribable degree. It’s the fact that they’ve basically known each other since birth, grew up together, and have seen each other at their absolute best and worst - shouldn’t they be close enough that Jooheon should have no reason to freak out about a little crush, even less so in front of his best friend?

He’s just a little angry is all. (Besides who was the one who paid for their drinks today?)

Jooheon watches as his friend continues glaring moodily out of the window, and he swears he can see the literal gears turning in the other’s head. The bunny hybrid has already started biting his lip nervously, regret for every word of his previous outburst coursing uncomfortably through his body.

It’s an understatement to say that Minhyuk may be a bit of a diva, but his own sharp remark was probably uncalled for. That boy though...something about him had tugged on Jooheon, pulling his gaze to him as if there was taut string between them. It was his scent maybe, a sharp, almost cinnamon tang with a sweet undercurrent of apple. It had made his head fog up within seconds of smelling it, muffling all his senses until it had finally drifted out of the cafe and away from him.

It’s been years since he’s been in a serious relationship with anyone (Minhyuk not-included), so the sudden surge of attraction he had felt shocked him to some degree. Coupled with the fact that the boy was a complete stranger and his best friend’s immediate teasing, he couldn’t stop himself from exploding a little.

Still, his lifelong friendship has lasted too long to be broken up by something like this. Besides, looking at Minhyuk’s frowning face is starting to make his insides twist pitifully. If this tense silence continues any longer he might start crying a little.

“Ah, hyung,” he starts quietly, waiting for Minhyuk to acknowledge him. The elder inclines his head, ears turning slightly towards his direction, even as he pretends to feign interest in something outside.

Jooheon pulls his sleeves to the tips of fingers, picking at the already-frayed tips and lowering his gaze to the scratched wood of the table. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles through an exaggerated pout. “It shouldn’t have been such a big deal to me. Besides...” he trails off at a sad thought before admitting it with a sigh. “It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

In the second it takes for him to stop picking at his sleeve and to look up from the table, Minhyuk has somehow left his seat and appeared right beside him. He can barely utter a sound of surprise before he’s engulfed in rib-crushing hug. For such a skinny guy, Minhyuk has a surprisingly immovable grip around him. Jooheon makes a few half-hearted attempts at loosening it, but his friend’s arms stay locked around him like an iron cage. Eventually, he succumbs to the hug, nuzzling his face into Minhyuk’s sleek shoulder.

He takes a deep breath, heart settling as an ever-familiar scent of cherry blossoms winds through his system, tingling pleasantly along the way like the burn of a shot of whiskey. It’s so soothingly comfortable, he could fall asleep like this.

Which is why he forces himself to pull away, tearing his face away from Minhyuk’s beautiful scent. “So,” he clears his throat, looking up through his lashes. “I’m forgiven right?”

The cat hybrid scoffs, removing his arms from the younger’s middle to run a hand roughly through unbrushed blonde curls. It only makes Jooheon’s hair puff out even more, and he whines cutely for Minhyuk to stop. It only makes the older mess it up even more, revelling at the way the other’s nose twitches with every sweep of his hand.

Of course he can’t stay mad, not with the adorable sight displayed before him. He finally removes his hand and holds it out to Jooheon instead, pulling the rabbit hybrid to his feet when their fingers interlace. He grabs both of their empty cups in his other hand, stretching long fingers around cold, wet plastic in a delicate balancing act.

Hand-in-hand, he pulls Jooheon along with him to the door, automatically tossing out the cups on the way. When they finally step into the direct sunlight, Minhyuk finally deems Jooheon’s previous question with a reply.

“Of course I forgive you.” The other boy looks over, eyes wide in surprise. When he registers what the answer is for, curved eyes crease into tiny half-moons and deep dimples form out of soft cheeks.

“Oh, that.” he states plainly even as his smile grows across his face. It’s terribly infectious, and Minhyuk can already feel the same expression mirroring across his own face.

“Yes, that!” he retorts without any bite, his grin growing so wide his cheeks ache.

Jooheon tries to muffle a laugh at the other’s feigned anger, but he ends up snorting directly into Minhyuk’s face. The elder responds with sharp pinch to his nose, cuffing it between two bony knuckles.

The rabbit hybrid jerks away, rubbing gingerly at his nose with the edge of a frayed sleeve. It hurts, but the pain is already fading away to make room for the laughter bubbling up uncontrollably in his throat. When he looks at Minhyuk, he can see the same amusement glittering in brown eyes and hiding behind tightly pressed lips.

It erupts moments later, and he’s cupping his face in sleeved palms as they both stumble down the street. There’s an occasional passerby that tosses a questioning glance at them, but the bunny and kitty are too lost in each other’s idiocy to even pay attention to any social norms.

When they’ve finally gasped out every ounce of laughter, Minhyuk attempts to adopt a serious expression as he turns to face Jooheon. It comes out more like a squinty pout, and the younger boy bursts into giggles again. The cat hybrid attempts to appear exasperated, but there’s a deep ache in his cheeks and stomach that makes him want to curl up under the sun for a long (cat) nap. It’s soothing in the most exhausting way.

“I mean what I said, you know.” he utters calmly, finally interrupting Jooheon’s croaking laughter. “Like I don’t really see it, but you have the right to date whoever you want to at this point.”

Jooheon rolls his eyes, light pink dusting across his cheeks as Minhyuk brings up the same embarrassing topic from before. Still, the elder can’t stop himself from teasing again. “Even if he is a messy college student who orders the weirdest drink in the entire cafe. Your choice, I guess.” He shrugs lightly, purposely glancing away from the other’s progressively reddening cheeks.

Before Jooheon’s head can explode from the amount of blood flowing to his face, Minhyuk links the pinkies of their left hands together, pulling them up to rest in the space between their cheeks.

“Just remember, I was here first.”

He curls his pinky even tighter around Jooheon’s, so tight that he can see the younger’s finger straining awkwardly to stay looped around his. It must hurt a bit, but Jooheon easily allows Minhyuk to pull his hand along. He’s still smiling - brilliant and excruciatingly bright in the dewy sunlight.

“Of course, you always will be.”

Ch. 2 - smile at me now like you did then

Summary: Often good intentions are misunderstood through the lack of nuance through text. However, the subject of selective wording is unfortunately something that is completely lost on Minhyuk.  

Jooheon’s phone woke him up for the second time that week. However, rather than a deafeningly loud ringtone, this time it was a series of vibrations that he felt from his pocket that jolted him awake. Becoming more alert to his surroundings, the sleepy rabbit hybrid noticed two things. The first being the pressure of a small body crushing his left arm and the second was that currently, there were fluffy ears brushing softly against his right cheek. Blinking in confusion, Jooheon proceeded to register where he was. Looking around from his spot laid on the floor Jooheon could tell he was surrounded by brightly coloured walls plastered with crudely drawn artwork and crafts. This signified that he was at none other than Sunnyside Care: the daycare that he spent every Monday through Friday for the last two years working at. Which meant Jooheon must have fallen asleep during nap time, again, rather than helping the other teacher, Shin Hoseok, clean up the afternoon snacks and begin setup for the daily playtime until the parents came to pick up the kids. Now fully recognizing where he was Jooheon had a few ideas about the small body currently crushing his arm. Glancing to the left his suspicions were confirmed as the bunny hybrid was greeted with the sight of comically oversized fluffy ears that belonged to the young bat-eared fox hybrid known as Sanghyuk. Which meant the ears tickling his right cheek must belong to none other than Jungkook. Upon investigation Jooheon confirmed that it was indeed the small boy whose ears were slowly ghosting over his skin with every small breath that he took. This did not surprise him. Although most of the children attending the daycare tended to cling to their two teachers, Jungkook was always much worse in this regard. Hoseok had guessed before that it was due to the fact that they were the only rabbit hybrids in the young boy’s life. Suddenly, feeling his phone vibrate against his leg again Jooheon sighed remembering why he was suddenly awake. Hoping not to wake Sanghyuk, Jooheon lightly pushed the four year old off his arm. However hearing a soft whine of “Teacher Honey” he knew he had been unsuccessful. Holding his breath for a second he let out a small sigh of relief once the young hybrid’s breaths had slowed down signifying that he was once again asleep. The last thing Jooheon and Hoseok needed was a crying child waking up the whole room in the middle of naptime. (Although Hoseok loved Jooheon as if he was his own child, Jooheon knew between causing such a scene and not helping with cleanup, the other rabbit hybrid would definitely be plotting his death. Or, knowing Hoseok’s kind hearted nature, it would be more like planning to “forget” to bring Jooheon lunch one day. However, being someone who was not able to cook was a fate almost as bad, if not worse, than death itself). Feeling one final vibration against his leg Jooheon scrambled towards the door, almost tripping over their sleeping lion hybrid, Taekwoon, on his way. Once safely outside the classroom he slipped his phone out of his pocket, and from one glance at his lockscreen he could see four text notifications from Minhyuk. aka Minhyukuuu: i’m home aka Minhyukuuu: i mean at your apartment, but like technically my home anyways aka Minhyukuuu: either way you should definitely come home straight after work aka Minhyukuuu: don’t mess around with kids and stuff ok? Leaving them all on read Jooheon let out an annoyed huff as he locked his phone and stuffed it into his back pocket. As Jooheon was fuming over the demanding texts, Hoseok, who had been in the daycare’s kitchen cleaning dishes, was walking down the hall and saw the annoyed twitch of the other rabbit’s ear. The elder merely raised an eyebrow in a wordless question. “Minhyuk,” Jooheon explained in an exasperated tone. That was all Hoseok needed to hear before he was nodding in understanding and mumbling something about “young mates and their problems” as he walked back into the classroom. Not bothering to argue that he and Minhyuk were not mates unlike Hoseok (and his mate Hyunwoo) seemed to believe for some reason, Jooheon proceeded instead to walk into the classroom behind the other rabbit hybrid to finish helping set up the classroom. --------- Only a few hybrid children were left in the daycare. Most had been picked up by their parents after the deafeningly loud playtime. Now Jooheon was just reading a story to Yugyeom and Jungkook as Hoseok was sending off the children with the  parents who had already arrived.   As he was reading to the two of them he smiled softly seeing the young bunny hybrid cuddle into the kitten hybrid’s lap. These two best friends always reminded Jooheon of Minhyuk and himself which made him particularly fond of the two. (He hated to pick favourites, however he definitely did have a weak spot for these two). Minhyuk and Jooheon had met at around the same age as Yugyeom and Jungkook in a classroom much like this one. He just hoped that the two would have as much luck as Minhyuk and himself in staying friends for so long. However at the thought of Minhyuk the rabbit hybrid began growing bitter again due to the demanding texts from earlier. As much as he loved him, Minhyuk often managed to get on his nerves at the worse possible times.   “Namjoon and Seokjin are here,” Jooheon heard Hoseok call from the hallway. Knowing that was his cue to bring the remaining hybrids into the hall Jooheon put the book away before leading the kids out by their chubby hands. Taking the bunny hybrid’s backpack and jacket off the wall hanger Jooheon helped zip Jungkook securely into his fluffy jacket. Once zipped he ruffled the young hybrid’s black hair before letting the boy run over to his father, Namjoon. After the russian blue hybrid had greeted his son, Seokjin picked the younger up as they left. Jungkook, of course, proceed to tug on his father’s antlers which caused a small laugh to escape Jooheon’s lips as he watched the scene before him. Seeing Yugyeom leaving hand in hand with his parents, Jackson and Kunpimook, the rabbit hybrid knew it was now time to start heading home himself. Collecting his bag from the break room Jooheon walked into the main hall and saw Hoseok who was now joined by Hyunwoo. “I’ll see you on Monday,” Jooheon said softly on his way out. “Do you need a ride home?” Hyunwoo questioned. The bear hybrid always offered, but he usually received the same answer as he did today that “no thanks he was fine.” Jooheon felt bad and some days he wished he would accept the ride however Hoseok and Hyunwoo already did so much for him that he did not want them going a few miles out of their way for him as well. After yelling back his usual response the rabbit hybrid promptly left the building to join the rush to get home.  

---------

Jooheon’s phone vibrates continuously against his leg as he makes his way home, but he resolutely decides to ignore it just to spite his friend. Honestly, he’s a full-grown adult, so what right does Minhyuk have to demand him to do anything, especially in his own home at that?

None! He huffs angrily, stomping his way to the subway line. Nearby passengers turn to look at him questioningly, but the rabbit hybrid only plops down with a loud thump onto the nearest bench, immediately pulling his ears down to shield his face. He’s aware of how silly he looks - long white ears manually pulled down with his hands as he slouches against a pillar behind the bench. Still, he’s so on edge about Minhyuk’s stupidly demanding texts he might explode if anyone decided to confront him about his strange image.

Thankfully, the subway pulls up just as Jooheon is seriously considering chucking his phone onto the rails. He resolves to keep it in his pocket, satisfied to leave the messages unseen and unanswered.

The doors open with a woosh, and Jooheon prepares himself for the ensuing battle. A stream of passengers exit through the open doors, a conglomerate mass that eventually diffuses into separate bits once it gets far enough through the station. The amount of passengers leaving is becoming less concentrated with every second, and Jooheon decides now is the right time to strike.

He bumps his way through the crowd like a pinball, hunching over to make himself as small as possible. Still, he can’t avoid attracting a few rude looks and muttered curses, which only worsens his already dark mood. Were subway passengers always this rude?

It’s unfair, but right now he feels spiteful enough to push the blame onto Minhyuk. If it hadn’t been for his texts maybe Jooheon wouldn’t have to deal with all these assholes roughly pushing into him. It must be the law of the universe that one terrible thing has to coincide with another or else he wouldn’t be wedged into a cramped corner of the train, head spinning as a disgusting cocktail of scents settle into a thick fog around him.

(It’s usually much easier when he rides the subway with Minhyuk. The cat hybrid’s scent is so overwhelming, Jooheon can’t smell anything else but the sweetness of whiskey-tinted cherry blossoms. Besides, the older hybrid is shameless enough he’ll make his own path through a crowd, all the while towing Jooheon along securely behind him).

But no, stuck behind a mess of scents and sweaty bodies, Jooheon decides he’s fine by himself. As a full-grown adult, this is completely bearable, and he’s fully capable of dealing with it.

As the ride continues, the heat only seems to get worse as Jooheon is progressively pressed closer to the wall. It becomes bad enough that he eventually turns to his usual coping method of pulling his ears down to cover his face. It’s the only way to block out the haze of different smells invading his space. His own scent is too vague to truly do anything, but in this situation even the lightest hint of something familiar is enough to get the job done.

He spends the rest of the ride in this manner, with his ears pulled tightly around his face like some fashionable fur collar, except he’s pretty sure people who wear such things aren’t usually on the brink of a complete meltdown. Jooheon twitches uncomfortably, burying his face even deeper into soft fur when something warm and distinctly hand-like brushes up against his tail. If anyone has the nerve to grope him again, they’re definitely earning a hard stomp to the foot whether they like it or not.

Finally, his torture comes to an end when a yellow dot lights up on the eighth station of the mini-map above the closed doors. Jooheon reluctantly releases his ears from his sweaty grasp, preparing to make a mad dash the moment the subway stops. The departing rush is always the worst, and wedged in the corner of the train, he really doubts he’ll be able to make a smooth exit today.

The press of bodies becomes invariably more unbearable when the subway hisses to a stop. Jooheon can only allow himself to be dragged along as a tiny speck of dust within a roaring sea of oppressive waves, not able to even retain a semblance of personal control. He’s spit out like a single ball from a rotating bingo machine, rolling into the station at an uncontrollable speed on borrowed momentum until he’s finally stopped by a stationary pillar.

The rabbit hybrid takes a moment to hunch over and catch his breath, every inch of his skin tingling from being jostled around so roughly. He carries out a quick pat-down of his body, making sure that his phone, keys, and wallet are safely on his person. His phone stays rigidly silent in his back pocket, and for some reason that makes his insides twist uncomfortably with an indescribable mix of feelings.

(Would Minhyuk really have given up that easily?)  

He shakes the stupid thought away, choosing instead to exit the underground station through a well-worn route. He emerges onto a large, bustling road, pushed to the very edge of the crumbling pavement with swelling crowds of hybrids rushing past each other with the same degree of urgency. Jooheon joins them readily, melting into the flood with the ease of a single water droplet. He’s carried away quickly by the ever-moving sea of familiar strangers, sliding down twisting streets on the crowd’s collective energy until he’s finally deposited at the mouth of his apartment.

Jooheon shivers in front of the complex, trying to shake off the ghost of clinging touches against his body. It should be mundane at this point; after all, he’s been doing this for more than two years. However, the feeling always sticks like a layer of heavy grease along his skin, and all he really wants to do is relax with a warm bath, complete with bubbles and flower petals.

But alas, he must first deal with Minhyuk’s bullshit.

Jooheon sighs, slapping himself lightly on the cheeks before marching into the apartment building with renewed vigor. He’s tired, gross, and starving beyond compare and the faster he gets through with Minhyuk’s demands, the faster he can get his aching, kid-beaten body into a soothing bath.

(Really, Jooheon loves each and every child at the daycare, but unfortunately, he’s not getting any younger these days).

He flips past the scratched honeybee keychain (courtesy of said children) to find his nondescript apartment key and inserts it into the lock, twisting until he hears a distinct click.

Inside, the rabbit hybrid immediately spots a recognizable pair of triangle black ears peeking up from above his hideous orange couch. They instantly perk up at his entrance, swiveling a quarter way towards the sound of a key in the lock. Jooheon promptly molds his face into a frown, adamant that he won’t back down from an argument today.

However, when Minhyuk leaps up from the couch his plan is slightly diverted when he notices something in the cat hybrid’s hands. As he walks excitedly closer, Jooheon finally realizes it’s a pot of healthily growing lavender flowers - and a rather large pot at that.

He gently catches the pot as Minhyuk drops it into his automatically open palms, too stunned to do anything otherwise. The younger hybrid gapes down at the flowers, brain slowly processing that this is what his friend must have meant when he had demanded that Jooheon come home without any delay. Of course, only Minhyuk could have been this sweet and misleading at the same time.

Still, the plant is flourishing so beautifully Jooheon feels his stomach turn at the fact that he was originally going to completely chew his friend out for being such an asshole - when in reality, Minhyuk was just being his amazing, thoughtful self, albeit not without his usual rudeness as well.

Jooheon sets the flowers down with as much restraint as possible before letting go and pouncing onto Minhyuk with the tightest hug he can muster. The older hybrid stumbles back with a surprised oomph, but he quickly returns the embrace in full, wrapping his arms around the younger’s middle and burying his face into the other’s neck.

The rabbit hybrid breathes deeply as his friend’s strong scent settles around him like a comforting blanket, completely clearing off the tar-like mix of odors that had been adamantly clinging on from earlier. He closes his eyes for a moment and dreams of being able to stay like this forever, of being held safely in Minhyuk’s steady fingers and sweet scent for an eternity.

Unfortunately, Jooheon’s straining heel catches on the edge of the pot of flowers, and both hybrids immediately spring apart when the clay scratches loudly against the floor. It almost tips over, but not quite, instead choosing to rock back and forth dangerously like a badly made top before finally settling flat onto its bottom.

They both breathe a sigh of relief, and Minhyuk sags against the couch as Jooheon bends down to locate his newly acquired child to a safer spot than the living room floor. He settles temporarily on the nearby ledge of his kitchen table, and he gently runs a hand through the bobbing flowers before returning to the prone figure spread-eagled on the back of the couch.

“Hyung,” he steps over to the front of the couch, looking down at Minhyuk from the opposite side. “Thanks for the gift.”

The cat hybrid preens under Jooheon’s appraisal, turning his head to the side as he pointedly waits for more compliments. Jooheon rolls his eyes, but he willingly obliges. “You’re the best most wonderful hyung anyone could ask for.”

Minhyuk’s pupils glint craftily. “Even better than Hoseok hyung?”

Jooheon pouts, turning to rustle in his bag for the tupperware container Hoseok had given him earlier at work. He displays it apologetically to the other hybrid before sheepishly muttering, “Actually, gift-wise you guys would be on the same level by now.”

Minhyuk rapidly shoots up from his previous position to aggressively swipe the container from Jooheon’s hands. Of course, Hoseok manages to one-up him again by giving Jooheon the one thing he can’t: homemade food. Inside the tupperware are steamed buns that must have been made with dough from scratch and were lovingly shaped by hand into the cute round mounds he sees before him now.

He’s suddenly hit with an irrational surge of envy, but also with the immediate urge to stuff as many buns into his mouth as possible. Jooheon watches Minhyuk’s internal struggle with a quiet smile on his face, laughing at the way the cat hybrid’s pupils shift nervously between each and every bun, all lined up in pretty rows along the container.

“Why don’t we heat those up and eat?” he suggests to put Minhyuk out of his misery.

“I guess,” the older boy says, tearing his eyes away from the food. “If you’re that hungry, I suppose we have no other choice but to eat Hoseok’s buns, do we?”

Jooheon immediately scrunches his nose in distaste at Minhyuk’s wording, and he quickly snatches away the tupperware and heads to the microwave before any more innuendos can be made. Even through the constant whirr of the machine, he swears he can hear a familiar cackle trail through from the other room.

When he gets back, steam buns actually steaming in hand, Minhyuk innocently looks up with half of a chicken wing sticking out of his mouth. Jooheon stares blankly, unimpressed, as he sets the buns out onto a platter in front of the still-frozen Minhyuk.

“I was hungry okay?” The cat hybrid rushes to defend himself, spitting out a perfectly cleaned bone.

“Mmph,” Jooheon replies, mouth already stuffed full with a bun as he pointedly looks at the open takeout box on Minhyuk’s lap.

“I happened to pick this up on my way over here,” The older hybrid protests, flailing oil smeared hands in the air by way of explanation. “Also,” he wipes off a sliver of cabbage stuck to the rabbit hybrid’s cheek, “don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Jooheon mumbles something that suspiciously sounds like “not my mom,” but he finishes chewing and swallowing slowly before attempting coherent speech again. “You could have picked something up for me too,” he whines, directing a pathetic look at the glistening container of fried chicken. “You know I can’t eat meat…” he trails off, pouting at his half-chewed bun.

“Wait,” Minhyuk yanks Jooheon’s hand to him in order to inspect the ingredients of said bun. Upon closer investigation, it is indeed entirely vegetarian, filled only with various types of cabbages and dotted with sesame seeds. He should have guessed, seeing that it was Hoseok, another rabbit hybrid, who had made these. As someone who has to eat meat at least once a day, Minhyuk really has no idea how Jooheon (or Hoseok) has managed to survive this far on flimsy greens alone, but the last time he had snuck a piece of chicken into the younger hybrid’s salad he had been pointedly ignored for an entire week. So, he’s definitely learned not to judge at this point.

He goes to shrink away, sticking out his tongue in distaste at the vegetables, but not before he gets a bun shoved into his own hand. Minhyuk tries to push it back, but Jooheon widens his eyes imploringly, asking his friend to at least try it. The elder sighs, but he raises it to his mouth and reluctantly nibbles delicately at the raised tip.

Suddenly, hearty flavor explodes onto his tongue, and now it’s his turn to talk with his mouth full. He exclaims something that sounds like “meat?” as he takes another huge bite, groaning when the pungent taste of fried pork fat drips onto his tongue. Jooheon looks on happily, eyes pressed into slits as he watches Minhyuk gobble down the tiny bun.

“Hoseokie hyung made a separate batch for you too,” he comments when Minhyuk has slowed enough in his ravenous quest to fit as much in his mouth as possible.

The cat hybrid swallows the current bit in his mouth before looking over with surprise in his eyes. “He did?” He looks guiltily at the bun in his hand, appetite suddenly lost. Jooheon hums lowly, dimples still pressed sweetly into a smile.

“I guess I have no right to compete for best hyung when I can’t even cook…” Minhyuk sighs, popping the last bit into his mouth, letting himself savor the flavor one last time.

“I’ll be sure to tell Hoseok hyung he’s won then.” Jooheon replies aloofly, feigning disappointment at Minhyuk’s loss even though he knows there’s no way the cat hybrid will ever concede his own made up title.

As he expects, Minhyuk immediately protests. “No way! I totally came here today on the basis of being the best and the most caring hyung so you can’t hand that title off just yet!”

Jooheon frowns, confused at what the older hybrid means. “You mean coming over and eating takeout, like we do basically every day?”

“No, no,” Minhyuk flaps his hand dismissively, “I actually wanted to talk about something with you. Something serious.”

At Jooheon’s amused expression, he scowls, squinting his eyes and muttering, “If you say anything about me not being capable of having serious talks I’m never buying coffee for you again.”

The rabbit hybrid raises his hands in mock surrender, quietly allowing Minhyuk to continue. The older hybrid clears his throat loudly, angling his body to fully face Jooheon’s. “Your heat is coming up in about a month right?” Of course Minhyuk would know, Jooheon thinks exasperatedly, but he nods along anyway.

“I just think,” the cat hybrid hesitates, tail waving about nervously behind him, “it might be better for you to find an alpha to help you through your heat this time.” He stares, unblinking, at Jooheon, pupils wide as he apprehensively awaits his friend’s reaction.

“I don’t see anything wrong with you helping me through it again,” the younger hybrid mumbles, reaching up to pull hesitantly at a long ear. “Unless,” he pulls harder, using it cover his cheek, “you don’t want to do it anymore.”

He’s hunched over and looking downward, but Minhyuk can tell that Jooheon might just start crying, and he instantly regrets his brash words. He pulls his friend towards him with as much urgency as possible, pushing the rabbit hybrid’s face into his chest as he runs a hand soothingly through the younger’s hair. “You know that’s not true at all,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the crown of Jooheon’s head.

“Then why?” The boy in his embrace retorts with an unfamiliar tone of hostility in his voice. Minhyuk only tightens his hold, burying his hand even deeper within the other’s unruly curls.

“You know how much longer it takes to pass through heat without an alpha. Plainly speaking, with two omegas there’s just too much risk at stake,” he admits softly into a twitching ear. When Jooheon doesn’t reply, he adds bitterly, “It’s not like I really want to find an alpha either.”

“I just want to keep you safe,” he sighs, and suddenly Jooheon is reminded of all those times in highschool where Minhyuk had pledged the exact same thing with the exact same fervor burning through his dark pupils. They had somehow survived those years together, and Jooheon realizes he had always known somewhere in the back of his mind that it was all because of Minhyuk’s unextinguishable spirit and nothing else.  

He buries himself into the other’s solid embrace, emotion welling up in his throat at his own selfishness. Of course, Minhyuk wouldn’t have brought it up for any other reason than genuine care for his own well-being. Just the thought of it makes him want to cry even more now. Really, what kind of friend is he?

“Do you understand now?” The cat hybrid asks, slowly loosening his grip around his still-silent friend. A muffled “yes” warms his chest, and Minhyuk can’t help but let loose a deep sigh in relief.

Jooheon gingerly pulls back, rubbing roughly at reddened eyes while avoiding Minhyuk’s gaze at the same time. He mumbles, “I’ve never been with an alpha before, and I definitely don’t know where I’m supposed to find one to pass heat with so how do you propose I even go about doing this?”

The older hybrid pulls away Jooheon’s harsh hand to replace it with his own, calmly brushing away stray tears along raw skin with his thumb. “Maybe,” he teasingly grins, “we could find that messy college student from last week since you seemed to take to him so quickly.”

Jooheon instantly stops crying to glare up at Minhyuk with watery eyes. “Don’t-”

“Agh, I got it, I got it, don’t worry okay?” The cat hybrid soothes urgently, lightly pinching a blotchy cheek. “For sure, we’re not signing you up for any of those weird online services or creepy dating advertisements.” They both think of popups announcing “hot alphas ready to fuck five miles away from your location” and simultaneously shudder at the thought of meeting someone through those kinds of advertisements.

“Then what?” Jooheon sniffles doubtfully as every possible option seems just as bad as the last.

“Well,” Minhyuk grins confidently, leaning back with his hands behind his head, “there is such a thing as a club.”

“No way.” Jooheon glowers with a red-rimmed glare.

Minhyuk pleads with big eyes and a jutting lower lip, ears folded to the side to frame his cute expression. “I’ll be with you there the entire time?”

Jooheon hesitates, especially at the other’s imploring aegyo. “You have to promise then,” he reluctantly agrees, jabbing a finger pointedly into the other’s chest.

Minhyuk makes a face at the sharp poke, but he catches the younger hybrid’s wrist, keeping him in place. “Of course, when have I ever broken one of our promises?” He grins widely, canines glinting brightly in the light.

“Fine.” Jooheon plops down against the cat hybrid’s side, resigning himself to his fate. “When are we going out then?”

Minhyuk’s sharp grin grows disturbingly sinister in the soft afternoon light. “How about tomorrow night?”

Chapter 3: the club is the best place to find a lover (so that is where I go)

Summary: A lot of times things tend to go quite smoothly with good intentions - but well, it’s a bit more complex with matters involving love. A club is definitely not the first place to work those things out at, but fate somehow makes it happen against all odds anyway.

“No,” is the first thing Jooheon says upon stepping into his apartment, not even looking up as he toes off his vans at the door.

“Oh come on!” Minhyuk exclaims from his position behind the couch, crouching over what he had thought were well-hidden potential outfits for the night. He scans over them casually, proud approval pinging warmly through his stomach because he had personally chosen every piece with the intention of making each outfit look damn good and boy do they look good now, even against the garish orange of Jooheon’s couch.

“I’m not putting my lower half into anything that could potentially cut off my circulation,” Jooheon retorts, brushing past a sulking Minhyuk to the already open door of his bedroom.

As he begins rummaging through his closet for something he would actually be able to fit into, a distant “your ass would look great in these” comes floating in from the living room, prompting Jooheon to bury his head into stuffy cotton, muffling his ears into heavy sweaters and loose sweatpants.

Finally, among all of his aforementioned sweaters and generally comfortable pieces of clothing, he finally manages to dig out the one shirt he owns that is vaguely acceptable for club wear. It’s a plain black tee that’s just tight enough to show off what Minhyuk refers to as his so-called “curves,” but not to the point of becoming a second skin. Which are, unfortunately, the majority of the clothes the older owns and has currently laid out along the couch to force him into for the night.

He grabs his favorite pair of black jeans, tossing them casually onto the bed next to the plain shirt, huffing minutely as he looks over what he personally deems a perfectly adequate clubbing outfit. The jeans beckon welcoming in all its faded, ripped glory, well-worn and stretched out from years of loving use. He also has to admit, ears twitching bashfully just at the thought, he’s gotten more than enough compliments in these, especially from Minhyuk himself.

“No way,” Jooheon jumps, jerking out of his fond reverie, to see said person leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as he bluntly stares down the younger’s outfit choice. His face is blank, lips slightly pulled into a frown as he glares at Jooheon over the rim of his round glasses with a distinct sulk. Even from this distance he can already tell how boringly conservative the other’s combination of clothing must be, and he strides forward, every part of him ready to change that.

“The shirt…” he reaches over onto the bed, fingering the hem, considering it critically as he pictures how it would look on Jooheon. It’s not bad, and at least it’s tighter than the usual baggy sweaters the younger hybrid pulls on during the week, so he moves on, grudgingly allowing the offending article to stay.

It’s a different story when he reaches the pants, though. He knows this pair of jeans well; too well as he’s the culprit for making Jooheon like them so much. He’s guilty - he admits to it, but the way the tight crease of those pants sticks to Jooheon’s already perky backside always compels his mouth to begin moving before his brain can even register what it’s saying. He sighs, slightly bashful as he confronts his own self-afflicted mistake, running his eyes over the pair of old jeans flopped sadly before him, heart twinging when he’s hit by a wave of pathetic pleading. Minhyuk acknowledges it with a minute, knowing nod, but sacrifices must be made.

It’s all for a higher cause he tells himself, averting his eyes from Jooheon’s woeful pout as he pushes the pants aside, leaving them in a rumpled pile on the darkened corner of the bed. While they do paint the rabbit hybrid’s thighs on full, glorious display Minhyuk knows they won’t even be able to compare to the view tonight when he forces Jooheon into the pair he’s already chosen and laid out against the couch. Trust him, he knows it’s going to be one of the most breathtaking views he’ll ever have the pleasure of witnessing, and his everyday job involves him literally getting into the faces of Korea’s top models so he’s speaking the plain, honest truth here.

However, when he looks over, Jooheon is anything but supportive of his genius idea, the younger man’s expression flattening in obvious distaste. Still, even as a surge of defensiveness flares through him, Minhyuk still can’t stop his heart from melting just a slight bit at the minute twitching of the rabbit hybrid’s perked nose. It’s really just an automatic movement, an appeal to the nervousness of his animal side, but the innocent worry in his eyes and the adorable wrinkle of his cheeks are part of the small list of things that are always able to make Minhyuk grow willingly weaker inside every time he chances upon their precious display.

Tonight though, he holds strong with an iron grip around his soft, fleshy heart as he forces himself to think of all the alphas who will thank him for making Jooheon wear something else besides ratty old sweaters and saggy sweatpants. Not that he can’t appreciate that kind of view on a lazy, rose-tinted Sunday morning, snuggled in layers of thick blankets-

Minhyuk flicks an ear jerkily, shaking himself out of his abruptly derailing train of thought, exasperated at his own apparent lack of focus on the situation at hand. Which is currently plopped before him, unmoving and stubbornly refusing any of his thoroughly planned out outfit choices with a pointed pout. The cat hybrid stares him down, one leg bent, tapping out a muffled rhythm with socked toes, but otherwise remaining just as still.

“I’m not going to-”

“You don’t even know how good-”

They both begin at the same time cutting into each other’s sentences with brisk surprise, but it’s Minhyuk who takes advantage of the quick pause to interject the remainder of his rushed words.

“You don’t even know how good you’d look in the pair that I picked out for you,” he argues defensively, cocking his hip to the side, black tail swishing through the air in wide, agitated circles.

“Yeah well, not when they’re your pair of extra skinny, size zero, boot-cut, leather casings of pure torture!” Jooheon protests, edging away from Minhyuk’s slowly advancing figure, fine terror bleeding into his slanted eyes.

“Wait,” the cat hybrid jolts to a stop, temporarily stunned into pausing his single- minded journey in making Jooheon fit into the aforementioned pants, because apparently he already knows which exact pair they are, down to the size and even the cut of the hem. He voices his surprise out loud, eyes widening incredulously as he asks, “How did you know which pair it was?”

The rabbit hybrid’s face immediately fills with color, blooming across his round cheeks in pink patches. He pulls his ears down to hide his blush, muffling his embarrassment into the cottony down of his rumpled fur. He breathes in and out in uneven drawls as he tries to muster up his voice, hidden somewhere in the tiny crevice of his chest, barely managing to squeak out “Because you wear them a lot and -” before looking down and gluing his eyes to the edge of the bed as he mumbles the rest of his sentence so indistinctly, Minhyuk can barely make out the jumbled bits of sounds and syllables.

“What’d you just say?” he leans forward, an undeniable sense of glee creeping into the amused curve of his lips.

Jooheon still refuses to look up, ears twitching numbly against his burning cheeks. “I said,” he starts, catching a glimpse of the cat hybrid’s mirthful expression before immediately clenching his eyes shut and letting his confession tumble out of his mouth in a runoff stream of rushed words, “that you always look really good when you wear those pants out okay?”

It’s deathly silent for a moment with Jooheon smooshing his hands over the sweaty mess of his rapidly heating face mixed with the suffocating cling of his fur. If he could choke himself into non-existence right now without any lasting pain he would gladly take that opportunity. On the other side of the wall of silence, Minhyuk is still, but for completely different reasons. There’s a kind of warm excitement tingling through him, seeping from the tips of his twitching ears to his toes as he realizes just how much of an absolutely precious being the blushing bunny in front of him actually is.

Which is why he hurriedly crosses the miniscule space left between them with no intention of letting anymore bothersome obstacles stop him in his way again this afternoon. He’s right there, feet planted firmly in front of the younger’s hunched figure, but when Jooheon finally glances up, pulling himself out of his mortified stupor, he’s suddenly gone in, knocking into the other boy with a forceful hug, pushing the both of them onto the bed with a bouncing thump and a groaning squeak. The cheap mattress quivers upon the sudden impact, and Jooheon thinks numbly in the back of his mind that this will be the day his bed finally throws in the towel and gives in to its inevitable fate after two years of very loving use.

Thankfully the creaking eventually desists, and Jooheon releases the breath he was holding into the trapped space of Minhyuk’s smothering embrace. He tries to wiggle around discretely, testing the hold around him and completely failing as the cat hybrid doesn’t even allow a semblance of movement from his position locked around and above him. Jooheon’s hands are still pressed securely between their bodies, and he wonders what is the point of cuddling like this if he can’t even return the embrace. He settles for doing what he can, nuzzling lightly into the hazy mix of Minhyuk’s shampoo combined with the sweet hint of cherry blossoms, patting awkwardly at the other’s shoulder with what limited mobility he has. A slim ear flicks slightly against his face, but otherwise Minhyuk continues on, undisturbed, with rumbling purrs and rubbing whatever inch of clothing and skin he can get his clingy cat hairs onto.

Jooheon is slowly dozing off into the snug space, coddled in the warm blanket of Minhyuk’s scent, so familiar and soothing around him. Unfortunately, his trapped arms are numbing into a state of paralysis in their awkwardly bent position, but the solid weight of another affectionate body on top of his own is all that’s needed to quickly woo him into the land of dreams. Cuddling has always been his kryptonite, and even as uncomfortable as the position is now, he gives in just as softly as every other time in the past.

His mind is detaching whimsically from his body, crawling sleepily through the melted sea of his consciousness, when Minhyuk’s deep purrs haltingly change into gently murmured sentences. He tries to pull himself out of his blurry dreams, blinking away dancing cabbages and talking cups of coffee to hesitantly push against the older man’s smothering embrace. “I can’t hear what you’re even saying,” he gasps tumbling onto his side and flailing his arms out loosely as he’s finally released from the other’s iron hold.

Minhyuk watches adoringly as Jooheon runs his fingers worriedly through the tangled length of his twitching ears, feeling his way sulkily through new knots in his already messed up fur. Minhyuk props himself up onto his elbows, still flopped against the bed as his slitted pupils track every delicate movement of the rabbit hybrid’s curled fingers.

The minute Jooheon deems the state of his long ears vaguely satisfactory, dropping his hands away from his head, Minhyuk immediately rolls into the empty space next to him and tucks their faces together, cheek to cheek, his rusty brown locks intermingling with Jooheon’s strands of blonde.

“So you admit you were looking, huh?” he sighs, eyes curled shut in lazy satisfaction as he noses into the soft skin at the base Jooheon’s ear, breathing in a sweet fog of honey and lavender.

A white ear twitches slightly against his own sharper one in vague acknowledgment, and Minhyuk giggles breathily, his laugh tickling the sensitive nerves in the furry appendage. Jooheon shivers, face scrunching and relaxing in tiny increments as he tries to not curl up into a ball at the acute prickles running across his skin.

He fails two second later, an uncontrollable snort tearing its way out of his mouth, as he jerks into a fetal position with Minhyuk’s breath still squished into the bare crook of his tensed neck. “Yes, yes, you looked great in them okay? Now let me -ah-” he gasps, words breaking as a soft puff of air is deliberately blown into the pink cavern of his poor ears. His drawn out shriek of “stop!” is futile in the face of Minhyuk’s asphyxiating smother.

“You’re so fucking adorable,” the cat hybrid mutters, pressing as close as physically possible. The erratic beating of his heart is accelerating wildly as the intoxicating smell of honey saturates the air, tinged with a bitter edge of panic. It’s the latter scent that pulls him out of his frenzied cuddling, forcing him to extricate his heavy limbs from around Jooheon’s soft body and the inviting incense of pungent lavender and rich honey.

It’s practically dripping out of the air, viscous amber weighing down the space around them with the denseness of a hot summer’s storm as Jooheon sits up with angry red cheeks and glazed over eyes. Minhyuk stands back, head spinning woozily with vertigo and something more primal as he feels heat seep through his own face. Jooheon stares up at him, open and vulnerable, smelling like he’s ready to be presented before the whole world on a lavish platter.

Minhyuk coughs shifting his gaze sharply to the side and away from the other’s lost gaze, gentle brown pools that are melting all of his hard angles and edges as they beseechingly pull him in for some kind of help. He inevitably obliges, his feet automatically dragging him to stand in front of the still sitting rabbit hybrid, presenting himself before the other’s searching gaze.

Jooheon immediately burrows his face into the tight plane of Minhyuk’s stomach, winding his arms around the other’s middle and clenching his fingers desperately into the flat fabric of the elder’s button down, hoping to ground himself in the hard familiarity of his friend’s presence. He takes a deep breath, the fire in his gut simmering low as the overpowering bite of whiskey and cherry blossom dissipates the heavy cloud of honey and lavender in the air.

The cat hybrid runs his fingers through light curls, back and forth in a slow hypnotic motions as trembling breaths shakily dampen the thin fabric plastered against his stomach. “Do you think you’re ready to get dressed now?” he hums, placing a steady hand at the back of Jooheon’s bared neck, spreading his fingers across it in a loose anchoring hold.

Jooheon nods, face still hidden in Minhyuk’s shirt, reluctantly untangling his clawed grip from around the other’s waist. He sighs, sitting back, ducking his slightly overheated face down towards the safety of his lap. The warm hand gripped gently around his neck slips away, and Jooheon immediately misses its heated imprint against his skin. He breathes in the air, finally free of his own thick, viscous scent, and runs his hand over the back of his neck, over the ghost of Minhyuk’s touch, to try and jerk himself out of his feverish haze and back to grounding reality. “I think so,” he murmurs cautiously, a trail of pink dotted in an unfamiliar constellation over the ridge of his cheeks as he begins fiddling with the curls scattered across his forehead.

“Good,” Minhyuk leans down, giving a quick peck to the younger’s fingertips as they busy themselves with untangling messy blonde strands. “I know I look good in those pants,” he laughs lightly, reaching a hand out to pull a still blushing rabbit hybrid to his feet. “But wait until we get them on you,” he murmurs, a playful light glinting through the graceful curve of his eyes again.

Jooheon’s cheeks rapidly color, honey and lavender spiking wildly in the air for a second time, but he stays docilely silent, only laying his head softly against Minhyuk’s shoulders as he allows himself to be led to the certain death of his nether regions.

After all, he sighs, returning the steadfast grip around his hand, it’s only for one night. How bad can it really be?

---------

It’s pretty bad.

Jooheon swears under his breath, already losing feeling in his tightly bound calves as he tries to pull the edge of the pants over his ass. His poor boxer briefs are doing everything in their power to shield his lower half from the world, but with every inch of the tight leather slipping over his butt, the more his underwear rides up into dark unspeakable places.

Finally, he pulls the waistband over the fullest part of his backside with an audible stretching of the seams. His puffball of a tail is just a little too big to fit through the slim back-end hole made for the long sleekness of a cat’s tail, so he manually yanks out the furry bit stuck under the tight fabric, whining loudly when bits of fur literally tear off into his palms.

By now, his underwear has rucked so far up his ass, he might as well be going commando at this point. He turns the thought over in his head, deliberating the decision as his fingers linger hesitantly over the front zipper. Sure, it might give him a slight breath of comfort in this leather hell, but he knows the second he peels off his second, much tighter layer of skin, there is now way in all the high heavens he’ll ever be able to fit himself into it ever again. Half-thong it is then, he grimaces, sentencing himself to his fate for the evening as he zips himself into his leather cage.

Just as he pops in the last button, holding his breath as he removes his hands, waiting for the inevitable moment every single stitch rips apart, a whiny “are you done?” floats in from outside the sweltering closet.

“Yeah,” he shouts back, eyes rapidly flickering back down to his waist to make sure he’s still decent and not just covered in ripped tatters of cloth. The pants stay valiantly fastened around him, the waist line squeezing painfully into the soft flesh of his stomach. There’s definitely going to be red marks later.

“Yeah?” Minhyuk mirrors his answer, loud and lilting. “Why don’t you come out then?” Jooheon gulps, his voice failing him as he looks down at his leather-clad legs again. The thing is, while he may have been able to wrestle these things on, he’s not sure if he’ll even be able to walk in them, much less grind in them at the club.

Not that he’ll be doing any of that, he panics, mortified at his own traitorous conscience.  

“Jooheonie?” Minhyuk’s teasing call comes again.

“Coming,” he sighs, tugging his shirt down over the curve of his stomach, shielding it with his hand for a hesitant moment as he thinks about all the different, less revealing and actually comfy sweatshirts he could change into right now. The brisk metronome of Minhyuk’s tapping foot filters in, and Jooheon’s long ears immediately turning towards the sound, sensing the impatience in the other’s erratic rhythm. He sighs, abandoning the thought as he takes his first few waddling steps towards the closet door.

Minhyuk sits up rapidly from his lounging position against the bed, pupils growing wide and round as the closet finally squeaks open. His tail cuts through the air like a black scythe, flicking agitatedly with audible swishes as he waits anxiously for his first glance of the other hybrid.

Two white tips bob out from the dark interior, followed by a cautious head of blonde curls as shaking brown irises shift over to Minhyuk for a second before quickly attaching their gaze to the ground instead. The cat hybrid takes in a deep silent breath, not daring to make any sounds in this tense moment of hesitance. Eventually, Jooheon shuffles entirely out of his shadowed haven, reluctantly stepping his tightly clad body into the light and revealing himself before Minhyuk’s wide gaze.

When an eternity seems to pass without even a sound from the older hybrid, Jooheon resorts to pulling his ears down over his rapidly burning face, shuffling his socked foot against the ground as he muffles a silent scream of utter mortification into his tangled fur. After emptying out the full extent of his lung capacity, he peeks past the hazy edge of his ear, trying to carefully gauge Minhyuk’s expression.

The other hybrid’s gaze is hooded, eyelashes almost dipping to his cheeks as he looks over Jooheon with slow, half-lidded appraisal, a deep silence overtaking the space between them as quickly as the shadows crossing his slitted pupils. He places his chin on the edge of his curled palm, leaning his elbow on the sleek line of his crossed legs as he tilts his head minutely to the side, looking almost sleepy in his quiet deliberation. Under curved lids, though, is a look that’s nothing if not vividly awake, the silky want threading through his dark gaze making Jooheon’s poor rabbit heart jackhammer even harder against his rib cage.

“Turn.” Minhyuk utters the single word, the sound of it echoing so loudly around the room after what had only been prolonged heated silence for so long.

Jooheon hastily obeys on instinct, his body aching to move after being locked in place for what had felt like hours on end. He shuffles around in an awkward circle, still scared that the moment he steps a little too far out from his center of gravity, his ears will immediately be met by a dreaded sequence of ripping noises. He ends up finishing the turn more of a waddle than an actual spin, long ears still unknowingly pulled against his pinking cheeks as he keeps his eyes glued to the taut fabric that’s still somehow wholly intact around his bound legs.

“Damn,” Minhyuk breaths out with a soft whistle, too low to register in Jooheon’s extremely flustered mind. Forget every big-eyed, stick-thin model he’s ever worked with: the tight creases accentuating the round curve of the younger man’s ass are more impressive than all the shows he’s worked combined. Even the minute movements of shifting from one foot to the other pulls the fabric so perfectly across his thighs, Minhyuk seriously questions why he’s never gotten Jooheon to do this before, because he’s honestly having an out-of-body experience just looking at the smooth shift of thick muscle encased so tightly, so perfectly under black leather.

Yeah, he thinks, jumping to his feet, bounding across the floor with rushed steps and smug appreciation coursing hotly through his veins - this was definitely a good idea.

He reaches Jooheon, who’s still suffering with his face smothered in the furry cage of his ears, and he cups his palms over the back of the other’s unmoving clenched hands, massaging over them with slow sweeps of his slightly cooler fingers. “I’m sure you think otherwise, but holy shit,” he coos, breathlessly, reverently, “you look good enough to eat in these.” He clicks his teeth together in a playful whisper of a soft purr against Jooheon’s covered cheek.

A pair of brown irises blink up over the pink curve of two flushed moons obscured by tufts of white fluff, a myriad of emotions glistening through them with the fractioning multiplicity of a kaleidoscope. Among sheer embarrassment, confusion, and anxiousness Minhyuk can see a piece of reluctant acceptance reflecting the lazy satisfaction on his own face, He strokes his thumb over a strip of exposed, heated flesh, the edges of lips curling into a smile as the hands under his slowly uncurl, letting twitching ears spring back to their towering position atop Jooheon’s head. Minhyuk hums happily, pressing his lips to the younger’s forehead as he envisions the rest of the night illuminated in bright violet flashes of club lights and the heated fog of clamoring scents.

He can’t wait, he thinks, running his hand through loose curls, scratching distractedly at the base of the soft bone in tall ears he eventually encounters in his habitual petting session.

Jooheon shifts forward, opting to hide his face in the older hybrid’s shoulder, wrapping himself around the other’s slim figure as he pushes his head needingly into the other’s bemused touch. Minhyuk snaps out of his his dreamy daze when a head of soft fluff bobs obtrusively into his face, reminding him of the task still left at hand.

“We’ve got to style your hair too,” he murmurs, pressing long, knowing fingers to all of the rabbit hybrid’s favorite spots, blowing floating flecks of short fur like dandelion puffs away from his face.

“Wait, what -” Jooheon suddenly jerks up, dislodging Minhyuk’s pleasurable touch from his prickling scalp, vague regret pinging in the back of his mind as the soothing spark in his nerves begins fizzing away. “I thought making me put this on,” he motions to the tight line of his body, “was enough for the night?”

“I just have a feeling okay?” Minhyuk grins, eyes curving into slits as he drops his hands to grab Jooheon’s hanging pair, linking their fingers together and swinging their interlaced grips between their bodies like a playground swing.

“Does this feeling include anything else?” Jooheon squints suspiciously at Minhyuk’s innocent smile, too sweet and plain for him to not have any hidden intentions. Either way, he allows his hands to be tugged along, long fingers tangling around his shorter own, until his whole body has ended up in front of the old dressing table, spilling over with Minhyuk’s various makeup, face, and hair products.

“Hmm, I don’t know?” Minhyuk murmurs, injecting an air of questioning wonder into his steady voice. “Maybe some eyeliner,” he reveals warming up some hair gel between his palms. “Some eyeshadow perhaps,” he whispers, low, Jooheon shivering as the first cool stroke rakes back the hair across his sensitive scalp. “Then, just a touch of pink lip gloss,” the cat hybrid hums, sweeping back soft bangs with a few quick experienced flicks of his fingers, laying each blonde strand exactly where it should be.

“And then that’s it?” Jooheon sighs, dropping his gaze to his lap to watch his fingers intertwine nervously, pulling and pressing at each other as the wet gel hands finally slips out of his now stiff bird’s nest crown of hair.

“Well,” Minhyuk pauses to take in his work, a deep rumble of satisfaction rolling up from his chest to his throat. “I have a pair of boots and a jacket that I want you to try on with this outfit.”

Jooheon groans cupping his face in his hands, ignoring the uttered protest of “hey!” as his errant fingers mess up the gelled crown piled above his forehead. “Do I really need to be dolled up to this extent?” He catches a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror, and he instantly shifts his gaze to the side before his brain can truly register the strange reflection staring back at him. “It’s not like anyone is going to be looking anyway,” he mutters faintly, obscuring his words into this cheek as he squishes his face against his palm.

Minhyuk’s ears flick sharply at the younger’s last statement, a semblance of annoyance flashing off his face as quickly as it appeared. He chooses to leave it hanging in the air, unacknowledged, preferring to fiddle meticulously with the fallen strands of Jooheon’s styled hair instead. When he finishes, personally deeming his masterpiece satisfactory, he leans his upper body over the back of the chair, sprawling his arms lazily over Jooheon’s shoulders and hooking them together in a tight embrace under the younger hybrid’s chin, forcing him to look up and meet his own reflection squarely in the eye.

Minhyuk presses the side of his head to Jooheon’s cheek, locking his elbows in stiff angles under the pretense of giving the other man an affectionate hug, intentionally trapping the rabbit hybrid’s gaze in place. “I think,” he declares, voice easy and unfaltering, directly meeting Jooheon’s shifting eyes in the mirror, “if I tell you that you look good enough to eat, then you should know just how many people are going to be noticing you at the club. Trust me,” he grins wide, long canines on show, flicking his sharp ear against a round cheek, “nobody paying attention to you is going to be the least of your problems for tonight.”

He finally extricates his limbs from around Jooheon’s body, allowing the younger to slump away from his own exhausting reflection. He steps to the front of the chair, fast and light on the balls of his feet, sweeping an eye over the pile of products before picking out a stick of liquid eyeliner from his innumerable collection. “Now,” he looms over Jooheon, tool dangling loosely but readily in hand, “let me do your makeup.”

The younger hybrid releases a long suffering sigh, but he willingly turn his face up into Minhyuk’s fluttering fingers, closing his eyes and surrendering himself to the other’s confident touch for the night.

As cool fingers line, smear, blend, and paint across his face with absolute precision, Jooheon tells himself no matter how odd, how unfamiliar he ends up looking, Minhyuk will be there with him for the entire night. That thought quiets the buzzing voice of doubt in his heart, and he takes a dragging breath, preparing himself for all that could come.

It’s just a club, he tells himself, lids fluttering as a wet line is drawn smoothly across his skin. A place for an adult like him to do adult things with other adults. He can do this, he thinks, chanting it like a mantra, envisioning the words as silent ripples in an endless sea, I can do this.

---------

“What are you looking for?” Changkyun mutters from under his hooded layer of blankets, barely glancing away from his laptop screen to actually figure out what his roommate is up to.

Sehun groans, crouched on all fours, bushy tail perked high in the air as he sticks his neck awkwardly under their bunk beds, trying his hardest to keep his face from making contact with a floor that hasn’t been cleaned for God knows how long. “My scent enhancer,” he sighs, crawling back out and collapsing onto his side when he finds nothing but dust balls and discarded candy wrappers, courtesy of Changkyun of course.

“Why would you even need that?” Changkyun questions flatly, eyes still glued to his computer screen, two blue rectangles imprinted in his round pupils.

“Unlike you,” Sehun sits up with an audible pop of his back, wincing as he ruffles the wild fur of his triangular ears, “some of us actually go out to have fun, instead of-” he collapses onto the bed with a heavy bounce, dislodging the edge of Changkyun’s blanket just a slight inch off his head as he wedges his face past the younger hybrid’s disgruntled shoulder to get a glimpse of the video that has the boy so entranced.

“-watching ‘Bang to the Up [Yongkuk x Jongup BAP] Moments’?” He reads the title of the video word for word, incredulously poking a finger at the screen to point out the unfortunate misspelling and consequently blocking out the miniscule hint of Yongguk and Jongup holding hands at the very corner of the window, forcing Changkyun to immediately drag the progress bar back by two extremely important seconds. He ends up having to watch the trail end of a previous clip, but he doesn’t mind re-examining the grainy 360p resolution look in Yongguk’s assumably gentle gaze as he takes Jongup’s hand in his own in their practice room during a V live stream.

Sehun continues watching out of sheer curiosity, chin hooked over the blanketed crook of Changkyun’s shoulder, watching the younger wolf hybrid spend at least twenty minutes (if not more) pausing and rewinding a ten minute video to stare silently at the still images, scrutinizing them for any hidden signs of affection beyond the platonic kind.

“I can’t believe this is how you like to spend your free time. Is this what you stay up to four a.m. doing on school nights?” Sehun questions after the cheesy and completely unfitting music dies down as the screen fades into a wall of recommended videos, three of which are Yongguk and Jongup compilations and the other three being various B.A.P member fancams. Now Sehun vaguely recalls somewhere in the back of his mind Changkyun had mentioned something about running some fan account that he made sure to update daily for his fellow “Bangup shippers.” Sehun’s not sure of the username, but he knows it’s definitely beyond cringeworthy.

“Actually, I’m up to four writing my lab report on school nights,” Changkyun replies, unblinking, as he hovers his mouse over the thumbnail of a Jongup fancam, ready to figure out the true extent of flexibility in the dancer’s hips. “But otherwise, yes.”

The heavy bass of Try My Luck immediately begins blasting out of the laptop speakers, and Sehun sighs, body unwillingly swaying along to the familiar beat. He admits, purely from a technical perspective, he can appreciate the way the idol dances with full control over every single muscle in his body, moving exactly as he wants to be seen without a moment of fault nor hesitation. Sehun is rightfully impressed, but the intense focus in Changkyun’s unmoving gaze contains something way beyond plain admiration. “You’re kind of scary, dude. Are you sure you’re not obsessed?” he whispers, automatically flinching back when a flat glare pierces through the pile of blankets towards his impulsive mouth.

Changkyun stares him down for a moment longer, black eyes still and emotionless as the blankets shift slightly atop his twitching ears. It lasts for a few torturous seconds more before he decides he’d much rather preoccupy himself with watching Yongguk’s Yamazaki MV for the tenth time, so he turns away from Sehun’s braced-for-impact expression to drag his mouse up to the search bar. He barely gets the first five letters in before Youtube’s drop down hint of suggestions has exactly what he’s looking for as the first item, highlighted in purple. He allows himself a victorious grin, tightening his make shift cape around his shoulders as the eerie twang of a traditional gayageum starts up, a red warning sign flashing gaudily across his screen.

“Come on,” Sehun whines, shrinking back from the intense visuals blaring brightly from Changkyun’s laptop. “Wouldn’t you rather come out and dance for one night instead of watching-” he motions shakily at the screen, “a chicken get its head chopped off?”

“You like grinding up on strangers, and I like supporting my favorite idols, okay?” Changkyun retorts shortly, tail thumping compulsively against the bed to the fast-paced beat.

The violent music video finally draws to a dramatic close, Yongguk’s handsome face stained with bloody streaks, flashing in red and black for one last epileptic moment before fading into darkness. Sehun shivers, every hair from the tip of his tail to his ears standing on end at the remnant of the low growl from the rapper in the video. He stretches his arms above his head, scooching his back willfully against Changkyun’s hunched own as he yawns loudly to try and dispel the goosebumps prickling over his exposed skin.

As a feeling of normalcy eventually settles back into his scarred psyche, he turns around only to see Changkyun’s mouse poised and ready to click on another B.A.P video. He takes in a deep, bated breath and decides, right then and there, as a fellow and older wolf hybrid he’s got to take some responsibility to get the younger boy out there and at least improve his currently nonexistent chances of finding a mate.

“Are you sure,” he stresses the last word so hard, his head bobs slightly with its strong inflection, “completely sure that you don’t want to come with me and potentially meet someone?” Changkyun nods lightly, a single eyebrow raised as if saying “are you seriously asking me that question right now?”

Sehun collapses back against the bed with a frustrated huff, blowing his bangs into a scattered fan across his forehead. He tugs on a few strands absentmindedly, reminding himself he definitely needs to style them up before going out as he grumbles casually, “Have you ever even taken interest in anyone besides your perfect idols?”

He asks that question rhetorically, more out of pure frustration than actual curiosity because he fully expects the answer to be an immediate “no.” However, when the pause that passes is a little too long for Changkyun to be rationally considering an answer, he rolls over onto his stomach, ears perked in surprised curiosity towards the younger’s blanketed figure. He scooches forward, lanky elbows digging into the mattress until he’s close enough to look up and see Changkyun’s half-cloaked face.

The younger hybrid has a completely blank look glassed over his eyes, and his hand has paused over the tracking pad, B.A.P video temporarily forgotten. What really tips Sehun off to the fact that he may have actually been wrong in his assumption is the light dusting of pink over what are usually flat, undisturbed cheekbones. Changkyun blinks, pensive and hazy, slowly slipping out of his fleeting thoughts, dazedly unaware of Sehun’s sly gaze trained on him from below.

“So,” the older hybrid prompts, casually sliding his elbows onto Changkyun’s sweatpant-clad knee, knocking the other boy’s computer off his lap in the process. “You do have someone in mind.” He grins, canines peeking out against his bottom lip.

When the younger hybrid chooses to stay silent, opting to fumble for his dislodged laptop instead, Sehun’s toothy grin only grows wider. He can already see his plan taking on a plausible form, even as Changkyun goes back to hiding behind his badly edited Yongguk and Jongup shipping videos, rapidly clicking on a random one without even reading its title to cover up his rising panic.

“So,” Sehun starts again, talking over the loud clamor of the video’s background music because he knows Changkyun is listening, despite his uninterested facade. “Do you wanna come with me to the club and potentially meet that someone again?”

“No,” the younger wolf grunts, pulling his blanket down further to cover the short, furry points of his ears. “Because there was never anyone in the first place.” He thinks silently, bitterly, to himself, what are the chances of seeing that person again tonight, at some random club, anyway? It must be statistically impossible, and so there’s basically no point of him risking that chance and potentially making a fool of himself, when he could just stay safely in his bed all night with a definite zero percent chance of embarrassing himself there.

Sehun feigns disappointment, scrunching his face into an exaggerated pout as he sits up, leaning his shoulder against Changkyun’s. “Wolf-to-wolf,” he says, voice low and silky, “haven’t you ever felt that urge our ancestors succumbed to every month under the bright moon? To chase, to hunt, to catch our mates and press them down onto the raw earth and bond with them there for life.” He slings a heavy arm around Changkyun’s shoulder, the causal weight of it pulling off the younger’s blanket hood, revealing ears alert and turned towards his direction, ears that have heard and absorbed every one of his murmured words.

“Stop,” Changkyun mumbles, immediately angling his ears downwards as he scratches at a nonexistent itch on the side of his head. “That’s so dirty…and ancient,” his protests trail off as he struggles to make one last futile comment, “and uncivilized…” He goes quiet, all kinds of explicit images flashing across his pupils, forcing the coarse hairs on his tail and ears to rise in some kind of unspoken anticipation to Sehun’s primitive suggestions.

“So,” the perpetrator suggests for the third time, looking more like a shrewd fox in the moment rather than a wolf, “you’re legal right?” He nudges his body playfully against the younger’s, gripping him roughly around his bony shoulder.

“Yeah,” Changkyun unwillingly replies, “I’m only two years younger than you, okay?”  

“You certainly don’t look like it,” Sehun mutters to himself, sliding his arm off from around the younger’s shoulders and ducking under the top bunk to rise to his full slender height.

“You’re only jealous because I’m actually more mature than you,” Changkyun quips calmly, throwing off the rest of the blanket and sliding his socked feet onto the cluttered floor. He wobbles up, shuffling over to his open closet, computer screen fading to black as the Bangup video sits finished and forgotten.

Sehun narrows his eyes at the comment, pressing his lips together tightly before he says something that completely destroys his hard-won victory. He settles for a few slow, meditation-type breaths, pulling and pushing from the depths of his stomach as he searches for something calm and not offensive to say about Changkyun’s measly height out loud. He settles on a vaguely satisfied, “So you’re coming after all?” directed at the other’s turned back.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Changkyun replies noncommittally, rifling through well worn hoodies and ratty old high school t-shirts that are somehow still a size too big on him.

Sehun keeps his mouth shut, expression flat and unimpressed as he preoccupies himself with finding his bottle of scent enhancer before he gets sassed again with more sharp words. He swears he’s searched in every plausible, and even some implausible places already, but so far, no sign of a tiny glass bottle filled up halfway with clear unassuming liquid. He rotates slowly on the spot, not exactly sure where to proceed from this standstill point.

“Hyung,” a deep voice calls from behind him, and Sehun pivots quickly, his long tail batting against his leg as he sees Changkyun fully changed and dressed with something dangling between his forefinger and thumb. He immediately propels his body into action, striding forward until he’s close enough to yank the small bottle up to his eyes and confirm that, yes, it is indeed his lost scent enhancer.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Changkyun supplies dryly, filling up the silence when Sehun only continues gawking, open-mouthed, at his weird perfume. “I’m guessing you tossed it into my closet when you came in at like three in the morning last Wednesday or something.”

Sehun’s lips form a plain o of realization as he dimly recalls getting roaring drunk at some sorority party and having to stumble through multiple campuses to get back to his dorm. At this point, he only remembers slurring something incomprehensible to the worried RA and tripping over rolled posters, presumably of Changkyun’s Korean idols, and slamming face first into his pillowless bed. At some dark, unconscious point, he assumes he must’ve used whatever little motor skills he had left to take off what he could and toss it into the vicinity of the nearest closet. Which was, apparently, Changkyun’s.

“Thanks,” he hums simply, quickly uncapping the bottle and rolling the wet tip in three small swipes over the back of his neck.

Changkyun scrunches his nose as Sehun’s musk immediately fills the air, weighing the air down with the heavy moisture of coming rain before a great storm. “I still don’t understand why you use that. I mean, you stink loud enough without it on a daily basis already.”

One of Sehun’s ears flicks sharply against his head, pulled by an exposed nerve as he tries to ignore the younger’s casual insult. “If you’ve ever even been to a club,” he pauses, pointedly stating a silent implication towards Changkyun’s unimpressed stare, “you would know just how hard it is to pick out a single scent in the mixed mess there. This,” he holds up the bottle between them, “is basically a necessity if you want a potential partner to recognize you again.”

Changkyun blinks, eyelashes flickering in a rapid sequence of understanding as he absorbs the surprisingly logical information streaming out of Sehun’s usually bullshit mouth.

“Which is why,” the older wolf smiles charmingly, suddenly stepping behind him and placing an iron grip on his shoulder to keep him from running away. “I think it would be a good idea for you to use some of it as well.”

When Changkyun only remains tensed and silent underneath his hands, Sehun tightens his grip, pressing hard with thin fingers and then completely letting go. He pats the still-raised shoulder with a gentle push, sighing with an air of defeat. “Well, if you don’t want to, I’m not going to be the one to force you out of being a stupid young pup.”

Changkyun bristles at the demeaning name, ears pressing flat against the back of his head as he rapidly turns, snatching away Sehun’s scent enhancer in one lightning strike and swiping it on in broad patches over the back of his neck. They’re both hit by the consequence of his brash actions almost immediately on the spot, both of them staggering backwards in a fruitless effort to escape the truly overpowering haze of the younger boy’s pungent scent.

“I think I put on a bit too much…” Changkyun supplies by way of an apology as the older hybrid glares at him, clear across from the other side of the room.

It’s Sehun’s turn to be blunt and sarcastic as he bites out, “Yeah, no shit sherlock, are you trying to woo every single omega in the club back to our dorm?” Even opening his mouth to talk allows the smell of bitter cinnamon to coat the entire interior of his throat, so he snaps his jaw shut with a loud click and pulls the loose collar of his shirt up to his nose.

Changkyun glares back, just as unamused, but possibly suffering even more as the charred smoke of cinnamon and apples settles slickly, like a sheen of oil, over his skin. He crumples to the flavor, dropping his head into his hands as he rests his elbows on raised knees. In a moment, he begins messing with his hair, dragging black strands away from his forehead with little success as they only curl back to their previous position, albeit slightly more rumpled.

Sehun quickly disappears into the bathroom, rummaging around with worrying clacks of various bottles against the crowded sink, before re-emerging with wet wipes in one hand and a bottle of styling gel in the other. He slowly approaches the younger boy’s hunched figure with stilted steps, breathing in and out through his mouth the entire way.

As soon as he’s close enough, he kneels down and begins scrubbing furiously at Changkyun’s lax neck until all five wipes are dirtied with the slick remnants of the pseudo-perfume. He gingerly takes a meager breath through his nose, releasing a deep breath he wasn’t even aware of holding when he isn’t immediately assaulted face first by the acrid scent of cinnamon. Admittedly, it’s still too strong for him to breathe openly, but it’s a far cry from the disaster that had filled the air just minutes ago.

Changkyun looks up, taking his own careful sniff as his ears twitch in response to the quick change in the air. Sehun meets his gaze, plain relief pooling in his eyes as he holds out a handful of crumpled wipes. “Sorry, I guess you won’t be taking home the entire club after all - you’ll just have to make do with only two-thirds of it instead.”

The younger wolf coughs out a choked laugh, rejoicing too much in being able to actually breathe clearly again to spare any thoughts to how bad the other hybrid’s joke was. Sehun rolls his eyes, a laugh bubbling up through his own throat as Changkyun throws his head back in a full on chortle, face relaxed pleasantly as he lets every snort and giggle pass freely out of his mouth. The older boy’s cheeks ache as he fights to keep his amusement contained, and he turns to squeeze some gel into his palms instead.

“Hold still,” he grits out from between clenched teeth, yanking the other’s bouncing head still between sticky palms. When Changkyun eventually quiets down and calms, he starts to style the younger’s bangs into high arches, curving them gracefully around his sloping forehead in a lifting middle part. It’s a little hastily done, but by no means rushed, and when Sehun is finished he thinks it’s not bad at all, never mind the fact that Changkyun’s hair will probably be as stiff as a marble statue’s for rest of the night.

“Let’s go,” he grunts, rising to his feet, tail swishing back and forth in agitated excitement as he yanks the younger boy up with a hard tug to the collar of his black jacket. The other wolf mumbles something indistinct disgruntledly under his breath, but otherwise he lopes after Sehun towards their dorm door.

As they toe on their respective clubbing shoes, Sehun sliding on a pair of shiny oxfords and Changkyun lacing up his scuffed creepers, the older hybrid leans over conspiratorially, whispering with feigned secrecy, “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely teach you how to twerk tonight.”

Changkyun chokes and he stands up with a hard shove to the other’s lanky back. Sehun grins, canines glinting like curved eggshells under the light, hooking an arm around the younger’s neck and hauling the both of them out the door with an already drunken stumble.

Without a doubt, it’s going to be quite the night.

---------

“Why are we skipping the entire line?” Jooheon whispers, worriedly glancing at the stretching line of mottled people, head after head turning back to look at him and Minhyuk with a mix of incredulousness and blatant anger.

“Because,” Minhyuk grins, the round apples of his cheeks red from the spring chill. “There’s a bit of a favor that I’ve been meaning to use here.” When Jooheon’s eyebrows flatten disapprovingly, bottom lip automatically drooping out in a pout, the cat hybrid’s grin only grows fondly, and he turns around to yank the younger forward by the hand, pulling him along to his own quick, stumbling pace.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Jooheon murmurs, voice low as he reluctantly follows, ducking his gaze downward and tightening his grip around Minhyuk’s. The long line of judging eyes bore into the back of his neck, making the thin hairs dusting along it rise up in an innate survival instinct. He shivers, shrinking back against the collar of the jacket Minhyuk forced him to wear, the irrational disappearing the moment his exposed skin is shielded from any piercing gazes - or from any predators, his tiny hindbrain whispers as he makes a moment of chilling eye contact with a pair of dark heavy eyes in the waiting crowd. Jooheon almost immediately trips on the spot, floundering as he’s instantly tugged forward, Minhyuk’s grasp forming an unbreakable rope stretching between their bodies and yanking him out of his frozen panic into a leather clad shoulder.

He pulls his face away, scrunching his nose slightly from the brief moment of hard impact, only to see the stiff face of an unamused bouncer and the entire line of waiting guests completely behind them. The girl at the front turns to them, round ears flicking lightly as her eyes widen just an inch in surprise at the sudden appearance of two random newcomers in front of her.

“Wha-” Minhyuk cuts her off with a blinding smile, temporarily charming enough to cart past her, pulling along an apologetically bowing Jooheon to his side. Suddenly, the situation is way too real because the stony faced bouncer is right in front of them with his sharply angled eyebrows and chiseled cheekbones, arms crossed in a thick barrier across the tight black shirt bound over his muscled chest. Jooheon automatically shrinks back, every ounce of him relieved for Minhyuk’s steadfast presence providing an unflinching shield between him and the bouncer. If it wasn’t for the older hybrid, he would have literally turned tail and run back to the nearest subway station without a moment's hesitation.

Actually, he wouldn’t have done any of this - squeezing into the tightest clothes humanly possible, going to a club and cutting the entire line there, making eye contact with random strangers - without Minhyuk’s sharp-tongued persuasion, and he doesn’t know whether he’s thankful for it or extremely regretful. Probably the latter he decides as he ducks behind the older man’s shoulder to avoid the bouncer’s blank stare.

“Xiao Xiang! How’re you doing?” Minhyuk asks brightly, shoulders squared as he stands ramrod straight in front of the glaring man, not in the least bit intimidated.

When he doesn’t receive any form of response, not even a slight tilt of the other’s head Minhyuk only strides closer, tipping up the edge of his chin without any intention of backing down. “Remember your beautiful $20,000 wedding? And how I helped save $500 of that $20,000 by agreeing to help out with your husband’s and his bridesmaids’ makeup for the day without any charge?” His phone buzzes in the skin-tight confines of his back pocket, and he pulls it out with a sly grin, unlocking it with a few quick taps of his fingers before displaying the contents of the message to the unmoving man in front of him with an air of proud satisfaction.

“Sangmin says hi,” he reads off the screen slowly as if the bouncer’s eyes weren’t already glued to the message and scanning over every word with rapid fire speed. Minhyuk then clicks on the attached file, zooming in on a blurry selca of Sangmin staring into the camera with big eyes, bangs streaked messily across his forehead as he tugs slightly on his bottom lip with the edge of his teeth. Despite all appearances, the bouncer’s proud bear ears are already drooping, a deep rumble rolling through his chest just as the sight of his mate. Minhyuk watches the hard diamond of his black eyes melt into mushy chocolate, and he knows he’s already won.

“Sangmin also says you should let us into the club first,” Minhyuk comments, casually closing his phone and tucking it into his back pocket as he yanks a bewildered Jooheon forward who lets out an audible squeak once he’s placed directly in front of the slightly disoriented bouncer.

Xiao Xiang looks down at the cowering rabbit, who’s being held tightly in place by the defiant cat, jaw set in an obvious challenge as his eyes blaze with a dark fire, just daring Xiao Xiang to refuse him. Fuck it, the bouncer decides. He technically got to see his mate before the night has even started and that leaves him sated and comfortable, a low warmth settling into a comfortable buzz inside of him. Besides, he wouldn’t put it past Minhyuk to try and get back at him somehow if he turned him and his friend away tonight. He grudgingly steps aside, his mate’s pleading eyes flashing through his mind.

“Thanks,” Minhyuk chirps, the sly satisfaction on his face demonstrating the very epitome of the cat who got the cream. He drags an incredulous Jooheon in with him, making sure to call over the back of his shoulder, “I’ll make sure Sangmin knows about this.” He finishes with a playful wink and turns away to the coat check with a spring in his step.

Xiao Xiang frowns, unable to erase the horrible image of Minhyuk winking at him from his retinas. He sighs, sentencing himself to his fate for the rest of the night, holding out a hand for the next guest’s ID. He really hates his job sometimes.

---------

“Here, I’ll take your coat - well mine technically - over to the coat check,” Minhyuk murmurs, letting go of Jooheon’s hand to turn around and silently motion for him to hand his jacket over.

The rabbit hybrid hesitates, pulling the lapels close around himself for a moment before stripping it off with slow reluctance. He gives Minhyuk the flimsy, glittering piece of clothing with a deep ache in his body, already tired before the night has even truly begun. Without the thin layer of fabric between him and the club, in his already exposed state, Jooheon can feel every brush of hot air against his body from a passing club goer, and it makes him curl in on himself, crossing his arms loosely around his tightly clad middle.

Just as he’s starting to seriously consider hiding out in the bathroom for the rest of the night, Minhyuk comes bounding back, also divested of his own jacket. The ties of the red silk choker around his neck float free behind him like the ribbons on a bonnet on a windy day, and the loose collar of his shirt has slipped down even further to reveal the smooth curve of his collarbones and just a hint of his bare chest. Jooheon feels like he should cover his eyes as Minhyuk crashes into him, pressing heated skin to the barely there fabric of his shirt sleeve and linking their arms together by the crooks of their elbows. He does it without an ounce of hesitation, guided by a familiar instinct to keep Jooheon close by his side, no concept of personal boundaries ever crossing through his mind.

The younger hybrid remembers it well from childhood, to his teens, and to now, of how much Minhyuk loved (and still loves) any form of physical affection. Really, he loved giving it, and he would always be touching Jooheon somewhere, pressing their shoulders together, absentmindedly stroking his fingers through the rabbit hybrid’s twitching ears - it never really mattered to him what he was doing as long as he could feel the warmth of the other boy’s body somewhere along his own.

To be honest, Jooheon’s gotten just as bad. He’s so used to Minhyuk’s unfiltered brand affection he finds himself feeling just a tad off whenever he’s gone too long without a casual peck on the cheek or a full-bodied hug. Even now, in such an unfamiliar environment, he can  already feel his fluttering heart begin to calm with Minhyuk’s reassuring cherry blossom and whiskey obscuring his senses and his clenched but steady grip holding him grounded to this new, dizzying setting.

The other hybrid pulls him through the crowd in a winding path, dancing around flailing bodies with graceful steps, almost as if he already knows where to go. Some innate cat sense, Jooheon supposes blithely, barely avoiding being backed into by another clubgoer. He’s never been here before, and he swears neither has Minhyuk, and yet the cat hybrid has somehow managed to cross a perfect path to the bar without even taking one errant step in the wrong direction.

The bar is barely visible from over the massive crowd gathered around it, everyone jumping for a chance to start off the night with a heavy drink. Minhyuk pulls the both of them in, melding into the shifting mass with the smoothness of someone's shadow as they wait for the makeshift line to shorten. Jooheon isn’t much of a heavy drinker, really not much of a drinker at all as he would prefer a cold can of peach soda to a skinny glass of cocktail any day, but the simple tilt of the cat hybrid’s pink smile is enough for him to agree to a light beer. Besides, if he didn’t stay with Minhyuk there would be a very strong chance of him getting lost and smothered among the heat of bodies on the flashing dancefloor.

The boom of the bass drops with an electric shudder, immediately transitioning into the distinct beats of the current hit track, “you’re so beautiful” ringing out in the clear pitch of the singer’s stable voice as whoops of approval spread throughout the club. The music rises, accelerating at a rapid speed as the addicting instrumental overtakes the stuttering breakdown of “too beautiful to handle” before another stomach dropping changeover switches the song to a different loud electro-pop remix, the pulsing cadence of Beautiful still mixed rhythmically under the current beat. Even standing in line, Jooheon’s ears automatically begin twitching to the quick-paced cadence.

The track ends with a high-powered diffusion of noise, the final note falling with a shuddering roar as the DJ jams his fist victoriously into the strobing violet air. “Thank you everyone!” he yells, “This has been DJ H.One on the track for your first hit of the night. Let’s hope you won’t be Alone like Sistar for the rest of it!” High-pitched screams rise in a collective wave as the beginnings of the classic song filters through the club’s audio system.

Jooheon presses close to Minhyuk, who’s happily rolling his body along to the sensual beat, no regards to the other people around him. The rabbit hybrid loves dancing along to this song as much as anyone else, but preferably in the comfort of his stained carrot pajamas without any stranger’s eyes on his less-than-sexy dance moves. He can’t stop himself from slightly moving along though, the rhythm resonating so intimately with his inner post-breakup schoolgirl that even in the stiffly binding leather, his hips still manage to find some leeway to sway back and forth in a pale imitation to the iconic dance.

He slowly begins to enjoy himself despite the dragging process of the line and the general suffocating pressure from the collective presence of sweating bodies around him. He’s really loosening up, letting his muscles relax with the sultry crooning of Hyolyn’s high notes, laxly moving his body along in small waves as all thoughts of shame and embarrassment melt away under the flashing colored lights.

That is until something decidedly hard and warm and not accidental at all firmly brushes up against his tail. Jooheon literally jumps off the ground for a good second, a terribly high-pitched sound peaking at the top of his throat. He jerks around on the spot, all dance moves forgotten as he quickly wraps his hand gingerly around his errantly twitching tail.

The assailant in question grins, sharp and dangerous, down at him, his unfamiliar eyes glinting with unreadable intentions. From his growing scent, stinking up the air with the musk of a wild swamp after a night’s heavy rain, Jooheon is already stepping back, tensely angling his body away with as much calm as his pounding heart can muster.

Alpha flashes through his panicking hindbrain in bold, blazing red, and he clenches his teeth together to muffle the pathetic whimper trying to escape from his frozen vocal chords. It’s been too long since he’s encountered an alpha, unknown passersby on the street notwithstanding, because he spends most of his workdays with only omegas and soft, scentless children. The fact that he’s with Minhyuk on most, if not all, of his free days doesn’t help the matter either as the cat hybrid, surprisingly, also presented as the same orientation during their teenage years together.

Which is why he keeps backing away, mind clouding with a fog of incomplete thoughts as the urgent alarm of run! and danger! squashes any possibility of him forming any coherent sentences in his rapidly degenerating human brain. The unknown alpha presses closer, a solid black shape blocking out any hint of the neon lights in the club, and Jooheon unwittingly feels the low weight of his ears flattening themselves firmly to the top of his head.

Any moment now, he thinks gritting his teeth in grim preparation, some indistinct muscle in his thigh will twitch and he’ll be bolting out of there, as fast as a track runner sprinting off the starting blocks once the gunshot pierces through the air. Except this time, losing the race could have much deadlier consequences than letting down your fellow high school teammates. Something definitely much worse than that, Jooheon shivers tensely as the cold, glinting gaze of the alpha roves over his body.

He’s about to take off early because fuck it why wait around for imminent death, when another harsh grip suddenly comes down around the roundest, fleshiest part of his backside. This time he can’t control the loud squeak that tumbles out of slack lips, immediately jerking in place as he tries to identify his second assailant.

When he glances to the side of where the offending grip is coming from, he’s so surprised his eyes almost pop out of their sockets, he’s staring so hard, pupils widening hastily in that single millisecond of jaw-dropping silence.

His already hazy brain can’t take in such a quick shock to his numbed body, so he stands, melded to the spot as Minhyuk hisses up at the alpha, iron fingers digging into the soft flesh of Jooheon’s ass. “Back off,” he growls out, voice so low it’s almost a whisper, but the alpha definitely hears him without mistake because he halts with an almost audible squeal of his shoes against the floor. Minhyuk hisses again, lips curled back around his sharp canines in a feral snarl, the veins in his neck imprinted under a tight sheen of violet and blue painted over his exposed skin.

The aggressive stranger finally takes the hint and backs away, retracing his heavy steps as he melts back into the moving shadows of the dancing crowd. Minhyuk droops, mouth relaxing back into its usual flat position, and releases a drawling breath of relief as-

-Jooheon suddenly slaps his already loosening hand away from his ass with an uncharacteristic amount of force. Minhyuk can only watch, mouth gaping open, as the rabbit hybrid stumbles away, distancing his backside as much as possible, preferring to turn it to the open crowd than have it be near the other hybrid’s invasive touch again. Minhyuk automatically reaches after him, hand stretching through the dense air after Jooheon’s shadowed silhouette.

He’s only pushed away again, his touch batted down with the same desperate force, however with considerably less intensity as the younger hybrid ducks his burning face to the floor. Blotchy red is mixing with the neon blue of the club to make a dark maroon splotch of humiliation splatter over Jooheon’s cheeks that Minhyuk can still easily make out even as the younger man tries to hide his face in the flickering shadows of passing strangers.

“Why are you so mad?” he questions urgently as he hunches over to try and look the fuming rabbit in the eye.

Jooheon finally looks up with a glare, glistening and wet, threatening to spill over at any moment. The scare of the brooding alpha is still rushing with nervous adrenaline through his veins, and on top of that, Minhyuk’s infuriating actions only make it pulse that much faster. “You - you didn’t have to do that,” he grits out, struggling to flatten out the rough tremors in his voice.

“And what,” Minhyuk states flatly, brows furrowing, “let you bolt out into the dark where he could corner you against the wall, where no one else would be able to see you?” His voice rises, raw fear bleeding into the quick anger of his biting words. Maybe what he did was a little extreme, but that alpha was not going to back off until he staked a visible claim, even if it was a fake one. “It was for your own good,” he finishes, mouth pressed into a line of decisive silence.

“No,” Jooheon retorts immediately, rubbing his palm roughly along a flushed, twitching eyelid, pressing down until he sees dotted stars as he tries to stop his body’s jerky twitching. “Don’t you understand? I was already so scared, doing that only made it worse…” he sniffs, covering both of his welling eyes with shaking hands.

“I don’t want to be touched like that,” he adds, a soft broken murmur drifting out into the ignorant clamor of the club.

Minhyuk heart breaks, but the line is steadily moving up without them, so he tries settling his hand on Jooheon’s hunched shoulder, gifting him with a familiar touch. “Let’s go, the line’s already moving, we have to stop holding it up,” he mutters, hushed and tense.

Jooheon jerks away, as if he’s been burned by the other’s touch, eyes flashing in a blazing arc of vulnerable anger. He stumbles back, and back, and back, until he’s left an empty hole beside Minhyuk. “You can stay in your precious line then,” he bites out, before careening away on jittery legs, letting the thriving crowd swallow up any traces of blonde curls and white ears.

Minhyuk watches Jooheon disappear, choking on his own tender heart, but he doesn’t chase after him. For once, he lets him go alone.

---------

“Sorry,” Jooheon mutters, blundering past solid bodies that only seem to move more into his direct path the harder he tries to avoid them. He doesn’t take a moment to pause though, not when his heart is still pounding from the bleeding panic of the black-eyed alpha, from the feral glint of Minhyuk’s needle-point fangs.

He can’t think, can’t see clearly, not with the mosaic of images piecing themselves together in the high-strung web of nerves in his brain. Each colored block takes a turn plastering itself over his flickering irises, pulling him over and over into a torturous trance as he relives each and every scarring detail from the rapid-fire exchange from just a few minutes ago.

He bumps into each and every writhing mass on his unknown route through the club without Minhyuk’s instinctual grace to guide his stumbling pace. He grimaces, swiping the heel of his hand over a ruddy cheek, surely smearing the painstaking effort that was put into lining the slim edge of his burning waterline.

Minhyuk’s painstaking effort of course.

He internally chokes on the name, eyes watering with the most acidic intensity as his jittery hindbrain, on reflex, pulls up gentle images of Minhyuk smoothing color lovingly over his cheeks with the soft pads of his fingers, of his pink tongue poking out just barely as he had directed wide bright eyes over the plain palette of Jooheon’s face, and after all that, how he had, naturally, finished with a habitual peck to the younger’s exposed forehead, free of its usual entrapment of tangled curls.

Not now, he repeats in a mantra, over and over in his head as a telltale lump wedges itself into the inside of his throat. Crying is never a particularly good boost to his already wilted pride, but there’s something especially unredeemable about doing it in a club, in the view of adults who are doing adult things as he whimpers away in the corner, like one of the three year olds in his daycare. Something wet bubbles up, tickling surreptitiously against his lower lashes, and he quickly tips his chin towards the inscrutable ceiling, opening his eyes wide enough that he can feel the rush of hot muggy air flowing past his sockets and temporarily drying up the welling liquid there.

He drops his head back down, lolling it this way and that as he stands frozen trying to peer through his unfamiliar surroundings. It’s a complete wall of heated flesh around him, a mottled splattering of hybrids of every species writhing and grinding up on one another in a shared attitude of careless abandon. Jooheon squirms in place, watching anxiously as his invisible ring of no-touching, personal space is progressively encroached on by wayward feet, elbows, and unfortunately, butts.

As the chances of him magically finding the door in the three seconds it will take before a bobbing tail can come into contact with his arm are practically zero to none, he prays to whatever god that’s out there to open up the ground and swallow him whole right here. He’s never really considered the possibility of hell, but now the option of falling into Satan’s raging inferno is a much preferred alternative to the disgusting, musky heat of the club slowly seeping through his goosebumped pores.

Sadly, Satan doesn’t instantly drag him down onto a steaming pile of skeletons at his desperate plea, but what does happen is that in his distressed searching he happens to spot a path, completely unobstructed by any bodies, to a wall occupied by a few chatting bystanders, but otherwise devoid of any sweaty, grinding persons. If he can’t leave through the front door or his own convenient portal to hell, a dark filthy corner in the wall of the club will suffice.

He sidesteps the stranger’s bobbing tail by a literal hair's breadth and bolts for the open path, the edge of it already beginning to blur with the formless shadows of mindlessly dancing clubgoers who have no idea that their indecent flailing is cutting off his only road to safety. For once, his animal genes come into play and he finds himself weaving through the crowd with a light step, tilting forward on the balls of his feet with speed he hasn’t used since racing down the dusty red track around his high school's turf field.

It’s more of a workout than he needs at the moment, but he makes it the wall just as the writhing black mass closes up around his one clear trail with the finality of a flood. There’s a possibility he’ll have to fight his way through those waters when he leaves this blasted place, but he maintains the mindset that he’ll deal with the panic only when it comes inevitably later tonight.

For now, he feels his way along the wall, fingertips sliding over months of congealed dust and grime as he waits to hit a dead corner. Finally, he slips into a sharp indent, pressing his shoulder into the hard stone of a protruding wall, perpendicular to the one currently pressed against his back, and he knows he’s managed to successfully back himself into the corner.

Perfect, Jooheon sighs, letting himself slump into the skinny space, all according to plan. Now, just to wait out the rest of the night here, hopefully unnoticed, until-

Until Minhyuk comes to get me, his brain follows through without a second’s pause, even as everything within Jooheon comes to a screeching halt before the thought can finish completing itself. His heart aches, and it’s only now that he realizes how truly alone he is.

In a club with people everywhere, the affection in the air so heavy it’s practically oozing, he’s without anyone even remotely near his side. There’s no never-ending buzzing from his back pocket, no shoulder nudging against his side, and no suffocating arms winding fast and spontaneous around his unguarded throat. Screw it, he blurts out into the stubborn space of his own mind, why go looking for some alpha when all he wants is for Minhyuk to hold him in his demanding, desperate way again.

Alphas suck anyway, he sniffs quietly as he recollects all the knobby-kneed, braces-bound teenagers that had taunted him for the soft curve of his barely developed, adolescent’s waist and the uncharacteristic sweetness of his scent in the torturous, age-old locker room. His childhood opinion had only gone stale after being immersed in the extremely omega-friendly environment of his workplace, with Hyungwoo being the one exception to his bland distaste of alphas.

Today’s experience has only brought the terrible prejudices of his youth back in full force, and so, huddled tensely in a shady corner of the club, he has no problem promising himself he’ll never willingly seek out anything to do with alphas ever again - not even for the risk of heats. He’s still alive and functioning relatively well without ever having been with one for the last twenty-four years, so he doesn’t know why he can’t just continue on for the rest of his life with toys...and Minhyuk.

Minhyuk, god, he misses him so much. If Jooheon hadn’t rushed away like a hot-headed idiot, they’d be dancing together without a care in the world by now, and he would be cushioned in the sharp, comforting familiarity of Minhyuk’s cherry blossoms with a mild shot of whiskey.

Now, he tries to recall the complex, beautiful nuances of that scent, but all he inhales are dust mites and the flat musk of his own sweat. Despite the layers of ancient cigarette ash and ticket stubs cemented into the ground, his pathetic self-pity is whispering very persuasively into his inner ear about how good of idea it would be if he slid to the floor, leaned his head onto his knees, and spent the rest of the night sighing his heart out into the curved space of his constricted chest. Jooheon admits, it’s the best idea he’s had all week.

He’s about to readily follow that tiny voice, knees slowly buckling in their leather confines as he voluntarily lowers his gaze to the ground, when the sense of lazy pity is suddenly replaced by every hair on his body and head standing straight and electrified by a blue lightning strike of fear. He raises his head with aching difficulty as if weighed down by a clanking bowling ball, each joint in his neck creaking at the forced movement, and he freezes halfway when his gaze meets the looming presence stopped in front of him.

It’s the same alpha from before, his bowling ball brain supplies with a devastating knockout of all ten metaphorical pins. Jooheon recognizes him with immediate horror, recognizes those black eyes and terrible white fangs glinting through the dark haze in a wide smile meant just for him. His thoughts begin to fall into plasters again, buildings razed into thin pieces that fly without abandon out of one ear and disappear upon contact with the hellfire of the club’s burning atmosphere. Out of the raining dust and cement bits flickering behind the sheen of his lids, he’s barely able to pick out one short, complete thought.

Wolf, the rabbit in him cries, and the man’s furry ears perk minutely as if they somehow picked up on his internal panic. They’re sharp, a blunt triangle shape, almost dog-like, but undeniably belonging to its wild brother from the woods instead - the mark of a predator. His pale crescent moon grin grows, and Jooheon bolts, cutting through the sliver of space between the man’s right side and the wall, hoping to make a break for it.

Hope isn’t strong enough because an iron chain fastens around his wrist, slamming him back against an equally hard wall of flesh with breathless intensity. Literally, he’s gasping for air as a rough hand wrenches his arm backwards, forcing him to relax against the rising chest behind him if he doesn’t want anything potentially damaged or broken. Another hand slithers around his middle, tucking its fingers with the intent of bruising into the supple curve of his waist.

Something hard and undeniably warm grinds past the twitching fluff of his puffy tail and into the thong-like seam of Minhyuk’s borrowed pants. He squeaks upon the intrusive contact, thrashing in the other’s hold as he tries to separate his lower half from the alpha’s front, clawing at the veined arm around his waist without a hint of fighter’s grace, but definitely with all the ferocity he can muster from his soft body. It’s raw animal panic, and with every red line that cuts into the stranger’s skin, the more Jooheon realizes his wild flailing is doing absolutely nothing.

“Where did you think you were going, pretty bunny?” A wet swamp breath blows across his fear-flushed cheeks and Jooheon only holds his breath in silent defiance. Suddenly, he cries out in pain, almost a scream, as his captive wrist is forced beyond its usual capacity for movement, bent to the very limits of the joint’s elasticity. He goes limp from the vivid stream of pain coursing from his arm through the rest of his body, shuddering as the alpha presses up to him in a skin-tingling line from chest to thigh.

Hysterically, he realizes in his messy hindbrain, from any random passerby’s perspective, it’d look like two people willingly grinding up against each other for a dirty night of heated passion. His panic kicks into overdrive, struggle beginning anew as the true severity of the situation he’s gotten himself into dawns upon him with a bleeding orange sun of absolute horror.

The alpha only chuckles, dark and disgusting, into the pink fold of his ear, cutting off his resistance with one hard dig of his thumb into the racing pulse point of Jooheon’s bent wrist.

Christ that hurts, the rabbit hybrid shudders, clenching his eyes closed and tensing up every fiber of his muscles at the new wave of pain. He just needs some help from someone, from anyone - he doesn’t care whether it’s an alpha or not, please, anything would work, just, someone find him before he’s irreversibly swallowed up and forgotten in a dusty, barely-lit, shadowy club corner.

---------

“Fuck,” Changkyun swears lowly under his breath as Sehun climbs onto a nearby table and pulls his shirt up with inebriated confidence to flash the screaming crowd of women and men already gathering around him. There goes his chance of having someone to spend the rest of the night with, drunk and stripping on top of a stained club table.

He sighs, turning away from Sehun’s pasty abs and slouching with a disappointed but expectant shuffle to his lazy step. Unless he joins the currently half-naked wolf hybrid on top of the chipped table or starts grinding up against complete strangers, of which he’ll definitely do neither, what he had predicted pessimistically will completely follow through without fault for the rest of the night.

First, he’ll wander through the club without aim nor direction, bump into some people, apologize, maybe take a gross shot or two, smash into some more random clubgoers, be too drunk and rude to apologize by that point, get whisked home by one of the invariable friends Sehun will somehow end up making by the end of the night, and finally collapse face first into his unmade bed with the epic beginnings of B.A.P’s Noir album on perpetual shuffle. He runs through the tentative schedule through his head once more, angling his body into the narrowing gaps of the crowd, and decides that, yep, everything sounds about right.

Might as well get the night started now, he decides with the form of someone who’s already resigned himself to the inevitability of his gloomy mindset. He edges into the mishmash of indistinguishable bodies, dragging the soles of his creepers past intruding feet without any real idea of where he’s currently heading to. For a moment he stills, pulling languidly at some loose fur on his ears as he tries to remember the exact reason for why he was at least vaguely willing to come here, when standing here, alone, like a complete loser, he has no clue as to what he actually wants to do.

His ear twitches, ticklish and sensitive from the overheated environment, and Changkyun decides, hazily, that again, he really has no idea. The wall to the close left of the room, though, is appealingly bare of any frenzied grinding, and it seems to be the perfect place for him to contemplate the welling self-pity in his heavy heart and also how much money he could potentially burn on B.A.P’s next comeback album. (Spoilers: it’s a lot).

He pulls on his flattest, don’t-talk-to-me expression that Sehun calls his “old-man bitch face” (he’s only jealous) as he begins pushing his way to the beckoning wall with the barest semblance of courtesy. These people could stop attempting to twerk for one second, he thinks huffily as a pointed tail flops without shame into his path, slapping audibly against his leg.

Changkyun dusts the back of his hand over the numbing spot, breaking his passive mask with a curl of his lip in vague disgust. He’s not really a germaphobe or anything; anyone could see that from the current state of his room, but he has half a mind to immediately incinerate these pants the moment he can get his hands on some alcohol and a burner in the chemistry room. Trust him, it won’t be hard at all.

He jots a mental reminder in the back of his mind as the throng of swaying clubgoers finally clears up enough for just the moment he needs to cross to the sliver of empty space between the nebulous edge of the crowd and the wall. Changkyun hikes to his feet and strides into the parted sea, eyes set only on the flat, shining wall glimmering and beckoning before him. He reaches it with an echoing thump of his foot on the ground, internally cheering for his one small victory of the night: finally, he’s alone.

Well close, at least, he corrects himself grudgingly because off to the side is a couple grinding awkwardly up against each other in the same empty space Changkyun has currently taken up residence in for the night. If the twerking from before had seemed awfully cringy, the scene in front of him is infinitely worse. It’s so bad he can’t even qualify the broken movements as anything close to the relative definition of dancing, and that’s coming from someone who may or may not have dislocated his hip attending his first and very last free dance class with an eager Sehun. (He’s never going to attempt a body roll that hard ever again).

The twin bodies suddenly jolt, breaking from its unified black mass into two twisting lines in an almost violent manner. Changkyun is horrified, but strangely drawn to the frantic wriggling that’s taking place, completely lacking in any attempts at rhythm nor romanticism. Really, what’s going on, he wonders, magnetized as his legs unwillingly pull him closer through the shadowy haze for a closer, curious look.

He’s five steps away, still leaned unassumingly against the wall, when the taller man appears to yank his partner back, melding them back to front again with such intense force the smaller one quickly loses his footing and slips in place. He shuffles fruitlessly, trying to regain his lost balance with a dragging scratch of his heels over the ground. It’s strange, because, Changkyun narrows his eyes, peering through the neon purple strobes - it almost looks as if he’s trying to get away.

The other hybrid holds him captive, crushing him into the hunched cage of his thick upper body, until all Changkyun can see of the smaller man are the swaying white tips of what he assumes to be his ears. In a surprising show of agility, the white-eared hybrid lunges forward, tight legs kicking out with a volatile snap as he finally shifts just a fraction out of his partner’s shadow and into Changkyun’s blurred view.

He whips around frantically, as if he was trapped, lashing a pale arm out past the heavy blackness of the body behind him. Something happens out of Changkyun’s range of sight, and he hears an audible intake of breath, piercing dry and sharp through the catchy electropop as the smaller hybrid throws his head back, letting it fall against the other man’s shoulder with a loud thump.

Changkyun turns his head, looking over on an unspoken impulse, and their eyes meet with an electric jolt of lightning, magnetized in a moment of indescribable recognition. Jooheon freezes in his sudden struggle and Changkyun does as well, taking a moment to catch his own breath at the soul-deep sensation.

Bunny, is the first barely coherent thought his muddled mind conjures up on the spot, the rest of the sentence lost to the glassy pools of the other’s fixed gaze. The second full thought that follows is a loud exclamation of oh shit, because the other hybrid is obviously in need of some help.

Even in the flickering neon shadows of the club, the wet desperation glinting in slim eyes is only accentuated by the flashy lighting, highlighted into two bright streaks that pull Changkyun in with the most magnetic urgency. He follows their distinct call, hazily tracing his feet over some unknown path on complete mindless instinct.

It’s like he’s watching someone else operate his body because it’s practically unbelievable when he somehow places firm, unshaking palms on the tensed bodies of the two hybrids and rips them apart with a forceful locking of his elbows, to the speechless surprise of all three people present, himself included. He’s not sure if the steady thrum of noise pounding through his head is the never-ending bass of the club or his own internal panic taking form in high-pitched screaming and incoherent babbling.

It’s the club’s music, he tells himself as the cottony static begins dying down to the slow steadying drawl of his breaths. He still feels like he must be dreaming because there’s no way, he, Im Changkyun, avid B.A.P fanboy and unassuming biochemistry major who’s worked out for a total 0.1% of his life, somehow managed to go up against some guy twice as wide as him and come out of it completely unscathed. Sure, he might’ve had the element of surprise, and the guy’s back was kind of turned to him, but this is coming from someone who seriously thought he had osteoporosis the minute his back started hurting from staying hunched up in bed for more than two days. Given the circumstances, Changkyun counts it as his second firm victory of the night.

It becomes less surreal and extremely real when he realizes he’s somehow latched his hand around the rabbit hybrid’s slim wrist and has pulled him to rest slightly behind his left side, enough so that the hulking creep glaring down at them would have to push past Changkyun first in order to get to the softly shaking bunny. He’s slightly taller than me, the younger boy observes thoughtlessly as a warm breath wavers past the top of his cheek. He tightens his grip, an unspoken message of reassurance, and subtly angles his body even more between the looming alpha and the trembling rabbit behind him.

“Leave him alone,” he grits out as the stranger steps forward, insides jumping at the strange timber of his own voice. He gently pushes his palm back against the other man’s stiffened wrist, motioning slightly for the both of them to begin backing away.

“He’s mine,” the man growls, eyes flashing, and Changkyun is hit with the stink of a swamp on a hot summer’s day, rotting with dead fish and sewage. Even a sweaty, post-dance class Sehun smells ten times better than the muck currently forcing its way through his nose and coating his tongue with the taste of vomit. He considers covering his face with his jacket sleeve, but a light tug to the hem of his shirt and a practically indiscernible whimper stops him in his impudent actions, waking the wolf in his hindbrain with a loud, possessive rumble instead.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Changkyun bites out, rigid and short, each word twitching jerkily against his clenched jaw.

“And you would know?” The other man’s eyes flash a sick yellow, and he steps imperceptibly close, close enough Changkyun is too surprised to push the terrified rabbit behind him away and out of reach. He stills, so frozen in silence even the minute palpitations of his breath turn to ice. Up close, lit by violent strobes, he realizes he’s up against another wolf - it’s an issue of a plain challenge for dominance. The stranger’s grey ears are pressed back, flat against his head, and Changkyun mirrors the same expression with his own identical black pair. He bares his canines, snarling only with the haze of red-blooded victory in mind.

“More than you ever would,” he utters, each syllable ripping so gutturally through his throat he can feel the echoes of the vibrations of the words in the pit of his stomach. He pulls the rabbit hybrid close, pressing their linked arms together in a searing line of bare flesh against heated leather. A honey-sweet scent slyly wafts up from behind him, so inexorably familiar, Changkyun almost immediately drops to his knees from the way it strikes him so pleasurably in the gut.

He forces away the heat creeping into his mind with a deep shuddering exhale, holding his breath quietly as he turns back to the task at hand. Namely, the alpha in front of him, paused in his advances with his head tilted to the side like an innocent young pup, something unnamable wavering in his dark gaze. Changkyun growls, low in the back of his throat, the action making his stomach twist with a strange sensation.

“Back off,” he bites out, the scent of lavender rapidly bleeding and mixing viscously with honey already floating through the air. Changkyun almost chokes on his spit, and this time, he can’t stop his knees from wobbling just the slightest bit.

Somehow, between his dead glare and the weakening of his legs, the other alpha appraises his false claim and somehow deems it convincing enough to let them go, melting back into the crowded shadows of the club with the deadly silence of a snake.

Changkyun turns slowly, hesitating as some sort of jittery wave of anticipation begins building up within his body, overtaking his body with a sea of nerves. When he’s finally fully facing the other hybrid, their eyes meet in a flash of understanding, the same idea clicking alight between them with the volatile flick of a lighter in the midst of a cloud of methane.

Before a single second has ticked by, their hands come to fumble together, fingers slipping and pressing with frantic urgency into the waiting space between each other’s curved knuckles, hands interlacing with a slightly sweaty, heated kiss of palms.

It’s not apparent who sets the first foot forward, but all of a sudden, they’re jilting into action, moving unsteadily with one will as if cooperating in a perfectly timed three legged race towards some vague finish line neither of them have any knowledge of at the moment.

At some point, they’re both outright running, sprinting with reckless abandon through the pulsing dancefloor, all logical regard for manners and appearances thrown away to the fire burning in their shared touch and the same thought sparking alight through the neurons in their brains. It must be animal instinct, some dormant sixth sense that’s come to life now and has somehow led them without a single false turn to a backdoor and out into a deserted alleyway.

The cold night air delivers a sudden shock to their bodies, dousing the liquid heat in their veins with the effectiveness of sticking your head into a bucket of ice. Their hands separate with a harsh rip, every burning feeling of shame and embarrassment returning with the realization of who are you and how are you doing this to me that floods into them from the ashy, cigarette-laden air.

A dull emptiness immediately sets in upon the loss of each other’s touch, an emptiness filling up Changkyun so entirely it makes him want to reach out and touch again without the intention of ever letting go. He chances a glance to the side and loses his breath for the second time that night.

The bunny is actually a full-grown rabbit, mature, with two long white ears sprung proudly upright from atop a head of wavy blonde locks. A few bright strands have fallen loose, the wind stroking them gently across the curve of his bare forehead. The other man tucks them back with a careless backwards combing motion, and Changkyun’s attention is irrationally caught on how small his fingers seem, the tips curved like the delicate petals of a lily in its short-lived prime.

A night draft whistles through their desolate alleyway, and the rabbit hybrid ducks down with an unexpected sneeze, his small squeak promptly grabbing Changkyun’s otherwise distracted attention. Without even a moment’s thought, he strips off his jacket and drapes the warm leather over hunched shoulders, letting the cold air wash over himself instead.

He gets his first direct look at the other’s face in return, and the same weak feeling in his knees returns in all its full, destructive glory. Changkyun discretely leans casually back against the brick wall, propping himself there with folded arms and a cool, detached attitude. Internally, of course, the high pitched screaming has also made a comeback.

The other man’s sleek eyes slope over the full curve of his cheeks with all the sophistication and elegance of a finely painted line of Chinese calligraphy, making him look more like a fox than anything else. However, the minute twitching of his sloped nose and the natural pink of his heart lips give him away as only a bunny (besides the obvious pair of ears), but it seems from the soothed rumbling emanating from deep inside of him, Changkyun’s wolf wouldn’t have it any other way.

It doesn’t make much sense, but on first instinct he wants to say the other hybrid reminds him of the moon: supple and full in sky as it watched over him and his worries with such an unspoken understanding he had pledged to pluck it out of the sky in order to take it with him to school as a pup. Now, his hand twitches in the the confines of his elbow with the same phantom yearning.

The surprise from slim eyes eventually fades into a childish pout, lips perking with the ripe sheen of summer cherries as the other man attempts to pull the leather jacket fully around his body. The piece of clothing attempts to stretch further, pulling past every seam with one-hundred percent effort, but there’s just not enough give. Jooheon gives up and leaves it to flap loosely around his shoulders, tucking the bare edges of his arms into the silky interior to the best of his ability. “It’s a little small,” he admits, hastily meeting the other hybrid’s silent gaze.

Changkyun’s stupid mouth moves too fast for his brain to even process the words coming out of it. “What, no ‘thank you?’” he asks in a tone that is entirely too rude to use with beautiful strangers who remind him of his first rocky, inanimate, outer space love.

Instead of reacting as people, namely Sehun, usually do to his automatic snark, the rabbit hybrid’s cupid lips only form a perfect o before softening into a small, genuine smile, the curves of his mouth still fully accentuated in the sloping dip of his shapely upper lip. “Thank you,” he replies hesitantly, his own embarrassment forcing his face into a nervous grin on reflex.

Changkyun barely registers it in the muted static of his thoughts because all he can focus on at the moment are the two deep welts forming on either side of the other hybrid’s shy smile. Dimples, he repeats brokenly to himself, he has dimples, and they’re deeper than anything he’s ever seen in his meager twenty years of existence on this Earth. Forget the moon’s sea-razed and comet-scarred craters, this guy’s dimples could fit the entire Milky Way into their creamy folds. His fingers twitch wantonly,  and Changkyun jams them painfully into his arm before he does something terrible like reach out and poke one.

“I’m - I’m Changkyun, Im Changkyun,” he stutters out brokenly, disconcertedly determined to keep the nonexistent conversation alive - also to keep those pretty imprints in the other’s cheeks from fading back into smooth obscurity.

“Lee Jooheon,” the rabbit hybrid offers quietly, still too absorbed in the slurred timbre of the boy’s deep, cavernous voice to introduce himself with all his attention and manners intact.

“Like honey?” Fuck, there goes his mouth again. Changkyun is entirely too ready to lock himself into a muzzle and dump the key into a landfill without any intention of ever retrieving it the hypothetical day he gets his brain-to-mouth filter under control. He’ll probably look like he’s into some weird stuff, but at least that way he can stop himself from offending a real life cherub.

“Agh,” splotchy heat blooms lightly across Jooheon’s cheeks, “I’m too old for those kinds of jokes anymore.” Minhyuk has made that one too often in regards to his scent, and just the thought of the cat hybrid makes his heart pang sorely with homesickness.

Changkyun notices the minute drooping of the other’s ears, and he automatically opens his mouth to let it run its natural course, praying that something hilarious and vaguely reassuring comes out. “What are you, like eighteen? Actually wait, seventeen?” Well...that works he supposes; at least it’s not outright rude.

Jooheon’s ears perk again, and he looks up, the corners of his slight eyes crinkling in incredulous disbelief. This kid, he thinks, strangely fond and exasperated, attempting to suppress the whisper of a giggle from escaping his mouth. “Twenty-four actually,” he replies, voice a little wobbly from the choking laugh threatening to spill over at the boy’s frozen expression of pure surprise.

Oh wow, Changkyun was only playing, but damn, he was way off. Twenty-two at most had been his guess. “I guess you’re my hyung then because I’m only a twenty year old suffering college student,” he sighs sagging slightly against the rough brick wall.

Jooheon scans his gaze lightly over the other’s lax figure, taking in the slight sallowness of the younger boy’s cheeks, the bruised bags under his eyes, and decides sadly, college hasn’t changed at all since he last graduated only two years ago. Despite all that, the student is still very handsome, from the slim line of his legs stretched out before him in an accidental display, to the sharp angle of his finely drawn jawline.

Jooheon tries to blink away the heat rising behind his eyelids, attempting to skip over that clear-cut fact, throwing it behind a pile of junk cardboard boxes in the deep recesses of his mind. He forces himself to focus on an innocent topic instead, something he’s sure that he and Changkyun have in common, determined to wipe away his embarrassing moment of utter denial. “So, is it still 2Jae’s coffee that gets most of the sleep-deprived college students like you through the day?”

Changkyun perks up, a small voice of suspicious suggestion lilting into his ear and through his mind. It can’t be...because really, what are the chances? He takes a cautious step off the brick wall, mind and body on complete alert now. He decides to test his miniscule doubts, injecting a tone of innocent curiosity into his casual question. “I’ve only started going there last week, but so far it’s done for me than any of Starbuck’s shitty frapuccinos ever could.” He slips his hands into his pockets, only the light forward slouch of his back betraying his intense interest in Jooheon’s answer. “So, do you go there often?”

The rabbit hybrid smiles in nostalgic reminiscence as Youngjae and Jaebum’s muffled bickering starts playing like a vintage record in the back of his mind. “Yeah, I’ve been going there almost everyday for…” he pouts cutely, trying to grasp a number out of the immutable stars glimmering in the night sky, “at least a year and a half now? Seems about right.” He nods minutely, re-confirming the answer with himself.

Ah, Changkyun’s heart aches at the sight in front of him; it’s so adorable. The fact that Jooheon has started mumbling lowly as he tries to count the years on his fingers proves that, yes, it’s indeed the most precious thing Changkyun has ever lain his eyes on. (The picture he has of Jongup wearing a flower crown at a fanmeeting is rightfully excluded from judgement).

He forcefully shakes himself out of the pure fluff-induced daze to analyze and evaluate Jooheon’s answer. No doubt, it does bring him closer to confirming Changkyun’s suspicions, but - it’s just not enough, not if he wants to wipe away every mark of doubt in his mind.

There’s only one option left, and in his current state of mind, with Jooheon open and unsuspecting in front of him, Changkyun feels emboldened enough to blurt it out.

“I know this is sudden,” he begins gingerly, taking a step closer, then another, until Jooheon blinks up in surprise to see Changkyun standing directly in front of him. The younger hybrid holds his hand out in front of him, palms up in plain honesty as if delivering an offering of trust. “But could I scent you?”

The words take a bit of time to sink in, not because Jooheon was preoccupied by the blunt thickness of Changkyun’s long fingers or anything, but as he slowly comes to comprehend them his face erupts into a rash of color, spreading so uncontrollably it feels like a pandemic disease, forcing him to press freezing palms to red cheeks in an attempt to calm the overheating flesh there. At this point, he thinks on the edge of delirium, he might as well just die from a heat stroke before he can ever get out of here alive.

Changkyun fumbles, flustered at the other’s multiple shades of mortification and his own mistake as he realizes the terrible implications of his request. “No, I meant, uh-” he waves his hands in front of him in what he hopes is an innocent and placating manner, “-like, platonically, kind of?” When Jooheon’s face remains steadily covered, he injects a light plea, maybe even a whine, into his voice. “It’ll only be on the wrist, I promise.”

The only response he receives is a bare wrist shoved into his general space, and his wolf rolls onto its haunches, sitting at attention with its ears pointed in sharp anticipation.

Jooheon’s proffered wrist is much like the rest of him, terribly soft and unmarred by any possessive bonds, delicate and innocent before Changkyun’s greedy eyes. He’s almost scared to touch, as if somehow a light tap of finger could immediately scar the translucent flesh in front of him and cause the rabbit hybrid to be whisked away in a sudden, blazing storm of electricity and ions in order to shield him from Changkyun’s abundant, not-at-all-platonic thoughts.

He absentmindedly rubs a thumb over a thin vein just to make sure, regretting his actions the moment Jooheon jumps a little, almost twitching his hand out of Changkyun’s tingling grasp.

The wolf hybrid holds the other’s wrist straight before him as clinical and technical as a piece of laboratory equipment before letting his base instincts take over. His eyes naturally fall closed as he presses his nose to a fragrant, warm pulse, nuzzling into tender skin - and then, he breathes-

It goes black for a second, his mind, his vision, his senses, before he blinks slightly and realizes he’s in the café he stopped by in last week. His body begins moving on its own, legs carrying him to the door with an already ordered cup of coffee, before he promptly stops in place. This time, in the metaphysical universe of his own mind, he looks around, mouth slightly opened because he swears he can literally taste the vivid scent of honey and lavender in the air and against his palate; it could only be a hair’s breadth away.

Dream-him takes a step forward, and someone at the nearest table turns, blonde curls blazing like a halo in the imaginary morning sun. Changkyun’s eyes widen-

-and they snap open, face to face with the blank skin of Jooheon’s tensed wrist, nerves and tendons rising up like hardened pottery molds under an opaque layer of flesh. Changkyun closes his eyes and breathes in deeply again.

He can smell the ever-present lightness of sweet honey and strong lavender, but there’s so much more - the petrichor of the musky rain on fresh, wet earth - the raw clearness of the air on the night of a full moon - the wolf in his blood sings and howls of home. There’s no doubt about it: it’s the same scent that had whispered to him you’re mine, I’m yours, and we were made for each other from the moment of the universe’s conception the day he had made his brisk exit from the café he had visited on a random whim last week.

Changkyun slowly looks up from the wrist below him, an odd heaviness in his mouth. Somehow, he’s lost his breath again for the nth time this night. When he meets Jooheon’s lilting gaze, there’s the same exhilarated, terrified, heart-pounding recognition in those brown, glistening, bottomless pools. He opens his mouth, jaw popping and creaking from the strange weight of his unfathomable desire. He wants to throw himself into those gentle waters and drown himself in their never ending seas.

“Oh-”

“-it’s you.”

---------

Minhyuk slides into the edge of the bar, friendless, and very much in the mood for a strong shot or two. Maybe even three - just enough for him to forget the way Jooheon had flinched away his touch as if he had hurt him more than any stranger ever could.

They’ve been together, through every momentous occasion and even through most nondescript, forgettable ones, for so long Minhyuk wonders, idly pushing at the tiny glass in front of him, sloshing the amber liquid inside it, if he’s lost his sense of reasoning entirely. Being with Jooheon, it makes his heart ache with the uncontrollable urge to protect, and he contemplates the intense feeling as he slowly swishes a gulp of searing whiskey against his heavy tongue.  

If only he had been born an alpha instead, he considers, letting the bitter liquid slide down his throat and coat his insides with thick soporous oil. After all, that is what they had originally come here for, and at his own urgent suggestion too. Well, it’s going so well he’s somehow gotten himself ditched and drinking alone, while Jooheon is probably off fending away crowds of alphas with flushed cheeks and perpetually pink lips.

Minhyuk feels the same flush seep through his own face, and he frowns, squinting lightly when a face begins to appear in the glimmering puddle staring up at him from the concave bottom of the shot glass. He thinks it’s Jooheon’s wobbly visage for a moment, painted with liquid amber into a look of teary betrayal, but when he puts his eye to the rim, there’s only the blankness of the hazy liquid.

He raises his head up from his scrutinous examination and promptly decides he’s not drunk enough. If the shame from acting like an absolute idiot is still burning under his skin, then he needs more vice flowing through his veins to flush it out.

By the time he’s nursing his sixth shot, he’s begun nipping at the already minute amount of liquor as if he was partaking in the finest of wines. In truth, he’s nearing that point of the night where his thoughts are turning into fine mush, along with the disappearance of his already barely existent inhibitions. The alcohol suavely washes away all his worries about Jooheon, glibly dulling the large part of his brain that’s wholly dedicated to his unflinching sense of protectiveness over the younger hybrid, and he begins to wonder, cheerily, why isn’t he out there on the dance floor enjoying himself yet?

The masochistic cat in him unfortunately jumps to attention, reminding him with a sly swipe of its paw past lazy ears, it’s because he would rather not see possessive hands running themselves all over Jooheon’s soft body, squeezing him out of Minhyuk’s trembling reach. He’s never seen it, but the obscene imagery conjured up by his overreaching, unbound mind is more than enough to cause an unpleasant churning to rise from his empty stomach, turning the taste of his mouth sour. He glances at the glowing amber liquid, and suddenly, it doesn’t seem quite so tempting anymore.

He’s about to discretely hide his still very full shot glass behind the growing collection of already drained, clear ones, when the stool next to him screeches aside and a lonely shadow slips into the now-empty space. Minhyuk jolts to a minute standstill, whiskey shot poised in the loose hold of his sluggish fingertips as he watches the stranger with shifting pupils. For most of the night, he hasn’t had any silent drinking partners, and he was more than okay with that - well, up until this guy had shown up of course.

The lighting in the club alternates between neon blasts of color and a cheap kaleidoscope of swinging lasers from a myriad of free lightsticks. Minhyuk’s slurring brain hisses against the random flashes of offensive brightness, but he has no difficulty mapping out the solid silhouette of the man next to him, pupils automatically dilating to eclipse the dark suns of his irises as he takes in the view before him. His seat partner pays him no attention, gaze unmoving and silent, even as he sets down the shot glass with a disruptive clank.

Instead, the other man tips slight fingers under his chin in a terribly sober move, lips pursed into a small point as he waits for the bartender to arrive with his drink. He looks like the fussy type, Minhyuk observes with a sense of vague annoyance. Definitely the fussy type, he confirms, narrowing his eyes as the guy huffs out a short breath, reaching back with his pale, pink-tipped fingers to smooth back a few perfectly neat strands of ink-black hair.

A crisp movement draws Minhyuk’s attention to the top of his head, where two triangular ears stand tall, mildly twitching against the invisible flow of air traveling throughout the club. They're actually almost oval, Minhyuk decides, sliding his eyes up from their rounded bases to the black needle-point tips.

He scooches minutely closer, unspeakably drawn to them through some kind of loose curiosity. Through further observation, he can see how polished they are, sleekly matching the smooth color of their owner’s gel-styled hair, differing only by a ruffle of rusty brown inside their barely curled interiors. He’s a domestic puppy, Minhyuk realizes with a surge of irrational glee. One that likes to take care of himself too, he scoffs internally as the dog hybrid smooths his fingertips along the finely shaved sides of his head.

The drink finally comes, to expectant alertness of both men, and Minhyuk watches eagerly as his neighbor takes it politely with outstretched palms. It’s in a tall, clear glass, the drink sloshing around lightly with no discernable color to speak of. For a moment, Minhyuk is convinced it’s a mojito from the fresh bite of citrus floating through the sweaty musk of the club, but a neon ray of yellow passes over them, and sees with a start this guy only ordered a simple mint soda.

The proof of his realization fans tauntingly at him from over the edge of the dripping glass with a searing green pungency. Sure, there’s a slice of lemon stuck at the bottom of some ice cubes, but the drink itself is tinted with a deep shade of emerald, and Minhyuk blames his failing sight on the whiskey drugging his system with the tempting promise of a limitless high.

For some reason, the fact that this guy got all dressed up, all dolled up, only to come out this entire way just to order a plain soda irks him beyond all logical thought - so much so, he gropes for his once-forgotten shot of half-drunken whiskey and upends the rest of it into his waiting mouth with an audible gulp. When he sets down the glass this time, even louder than before, the other man’s eyes are finally on him, straw perched loosely against a lush bottom lip. Minhyuk begrudgingly wonders if he’s wearing lip gloss.

“So, what’s a guy like you doing here ordering that kind of drink?” he asks impulsively, lolling his head slackly against a propped palm as he shifts his gaze pointedly to the offensive glass of mint soda.

The guy takes a long sip from said drink, pursing his delicate lip-gloss lips around the tip of the straw in slight surprise. “I’ve got an early day of work tomorrow,” he replies lightly, but he tips the non-alcoholic beverage just an inch away with a graceful shove of two small fingers, as if primly saying I’ve had enough of this for now anyways.

“Then what are you even doing here tonight?” Minhyuk accuses bluntly, nevermind the fact that he has a five a.m. shoot to work tomorrow morning. This guy doesn’t doesn’t need to know that.  

“I’m actually friends with the DJ,” the dog hybrid sighs, throwing a furtive glance towards the source of the pounding bass pulsing through the club. He turns back to Minhyuk, arched almond eyes focusing precisely onto the other’s blurry gaze. “He said he would come find me once he’s switched out for the night, but well…” he glances towards the booming DJ station again, “looks like the other guy still hasn’t arrived yet.”

“So what,” Minhyuk hums, tone lilting and light, tracing his finger around the wet rim of his emptied sixth shot, “you’re just going to here all prim and pretty and let some handsy alpha come claim you for the night?” He can’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, nor the teasing indignance from bleeding into his tone. The whiskey has made being rude objectively hilarious, and when he gets like this, all he wants to do is mess with the impassive masks of people like this frowning guy before him.

“I’m an alpha, actually,” the other man answers, taciturn and calm, only betraying a sense of clinical distaste with a slight raise of a single neat brow.

Minhyuk blinks once, twice, hazy and languid, showing no surprise at all. He had suspected as much; at first glance, the dog hybrid had seemed tiny, almost delicate in stature, but there was something undeniably proud and compact in the set of his narrow shoulders, giving him the sleek presence of someone twice his size. Minhyuk won’t admit to it out loud, but unconsciously he does the same thing, albeit for entirely different reasons.

He feigns light surprise, just vaguely pulling his brows up past his bangs before pursing his lips into a flat line of easy acceptance. “Certainly wouldn’t stop them,” he throws out, casually giving the other man a very noticeable once-over.

“Certainly isn’t stopping you,” his drinking partner replies, eyes finally flashing with an emotion that isn’t exasperation or unimpressed-ness, if those even qualify as valid forms of human expression. Minhyuk thinks he can hear a faint growl in the other’s clipped tone, and he shivers with an odd sense of exhilaration.

He pulls himself forward, heated attraction making the air unbearably thick between them. He isn’t even thinking in full sentences anymore, only recognizing and following the red pulse of tease and provoke in the back of his mind. “So,” he breathes, knocking his knees into the open v of the other man’s spread thighs, “the puppy has some bite, huh?” He smirks, popping his canines into full view, ready for a challenge.

What he isn’t ready for are the dog hybrid’s eyes suddenly streaking with an intense burst of heat, a black hole burning hotter than the largest sun in the galaxy as he yanks Minhyuk forward with a punishing grip around his choker, muttering, “I’ll show you puppy.” This time there’s a definite growl, rumbling past his lips as he crashes their mouths together with a raw clack of teeth ripping over skin.

Minhyuk’s cry of surprise is swallowed by a demanding tongue that licks urgently into his slack mouth, pressing past his lips without a moment of courtesy. Liquid fire sears through his stomach, and he drags the stranger to him with a rough hand cupped to the back of his head, intentionally yanking on the neatly styled locks with unrestrained violence. Another growl rolls out of the stranger’s mouth, this time melding into the heated cavern of his throat as his mouth is thoroughly explored and invaded with implacable dominance.

He hisses, asserting his own control, tightening his grip on the other’s head to the point of yanking out a handful of fine black hairs and biting down into the dog hybrid’s glossy bottom lip none too gently, pressing with the harsh edge of his canines. The groan he swallows down only sets the lowly simmering heat in his stomach ablaze with the subtlety of a bomb, and he lunges forward, using his height to his advantage to force the unyielding stranger into temporary submission.

It’s been so long, an eternity almost, since he’s made out with someone to this extent of ferocious violence, neither of them providing a shred of care for the other’s pleasure as they each chase after their own, only dumping gasoline onto the catching wildfire in each other’s veins. Minhyuk can’t even tell if he’s breathing anymore, the tight ball in his chest growing more grand with each moment of wet, willing suffocation as their teeth meet with a painful click. He’s never had it like this before, this rough, this good, not even through his shared heats-

(his shared heats with Jooheon. Jooheon who’s so soft, too soft, ever since childhood, and Minhyuk just left him, forgot him, to the cavernous beast of the club, where there’s no way he could ever fend for himself, not against all those alphas no-)

He rips his mouth away from its tangled, intimate embrace, spit-slicked lips parting in a desperate gasp for air. The other man frowns up at him, the same wetness staining his bruised mouth, body tensed and braced in feverish pleasure against the bar. His hair is artfully mussed and parted messily with a few thin strands tickling his half-lidded gaze of hooded want. Minhyuk shivers, ears pressing back against his head as he takes a few slow steps, backing out from between the dog hybrid’s splayed legs.

“I-I have to go,” he stutters, ducking his gaze down to a pair of polished dress shoes. Before his mistake of the night can reply in that steady, sharp voice of his, Minhyuk turns tail and runs, far, far away, without a single glance backwards to the mess he’s left stunned behind him.

He clenches his eyes shut, dodging around wayward bodies with wobbling, but still intact grace. His only consolation for the night is that he’ll never have to see this delicate, domineering stranger ever again. Minhyuk runs away and pretends that it doesn’t hurt at all.

---------

“Ah-” Jooheon gasps, breathily, breathlessly, when Changkyun noses down the fine line of his twitching pulse, hot exhales of Saharan wind stripping across the flat plain of his wrist. The younger hybrid’s eyes have slipped closed again in a translucent fan of hazel eyelashes, fluttering, trance-like, against the hard edge of his cheek.

Jooheon watches, caught in his own flushed stupor as Changkyun traces over his proffered arm with a sense of slow, shaking reverence, carefully patient in his holy quest to memorize every subtle nuance of the scent arising like a breath of warm perfume from the fragrant wrist before him. He inhales again, another long drawl, dragging the breath harshly against the roof of his mouth, tasting the scent of pure sweetness as it dissipates in a mind-numbing fog through his nose and into the rest of his body. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to think in coherent sentences after introducing his brain to this opioid. He sighs, tireless, and takes in another deep impassioned drawl of pungent lavender and lavish honey.

Jooheon reddens, heart shaking, heat spreading when Changkyun shifts his captive hand over a smooth cheek, cradling his twitching palm to the curve of his own face with the gentility of a long-lost kitten. He tucks himself into the soft flesh of the older hybrid’s palm, yearning to bury himself into the very depths of the velvet aroma emanating from cotton-cream skin.

Jooheon deliberates, hand twitching, unbidden, at the other’s unfathomable expression. He’s just a kid - a pup, the jittery rabbit in his mind supplies, and yet here they are: complete strangers, pushed together in this affectionate, deeply implicating position in plain view of an open alleyway. Changkyun noses into the delicate folds of skin under his cheek, huffing out a ticklish exhale, and Jooheon’s poor heart jumps so hard he starts to see the bright stars of the sky begin flying past the dirty yellow light of the street lamps and embed themselves into the black crown of the younger man’s bowed head.

It’s all a dream, a heat induced hallucination, he tells himself, the fire from Changkyun’s prolonged touch melting him into a frenzied pile of mush. Still, when a soft cheek presses insistently to his stiffened palm, the better part of his brain is too ruined to stop his hand from reaching back and reciprocating with a gentle swipe of a thumb to the delicate ridge of a high cheekbone hidden under a set of glimmering, flickering lashes. They brush, so light, so frail, against his finger, and suddenly, Jooheon is all too aware of the same pink heat trailing itself across the slender edge of Changkyun’s slack face.

Oh, he stills, thumb paused mid-way in its affectionate ministrations. He doesn’t quite know what to make of that realization nor what he should do with it.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), he never manages to consider any potential options because a heavy force is crashing into him, dragging, pulling, and squeezing with the unstoppable will of a six ton truck ramming into an unsuspecting deer at its full violent velocity.

“Minhyuk hyung,” Jooheon breathes out with trembling lungs, hands twitching uselessly at his side, arms pinned in the other’s unrelenting embrace.

“You dummy!” Minhyuk immediately leans back, frantically scanning blown black pupils over Jooheon’s face and body for any sign of harm or assault. All he finds are pink cheeks, and in a moment of cold, exhausting calm, he hastily attributes it to the night chill.

The sudden appearance of Minhyuk’s terribly familiar brand of merciless affection, complete with sharp words and lovingly oppressive touches - it sends a surge of desperate relief through Jooheon that he had never even realized was trapped inside of him, fluttering in erratic beats in the cage of his heart. He falls a little now, knees buckling as he throws himself into Minhyuk’s steadfast embrace with a crying whimper of “hyung.” His eyes finally slip closed, and the heat in his veins simmer down as the fresh, cooling scent of cherry blossoms with a biting hint of whiskey once again surrounds him in a protective cloud of safety.

Minhyuk never lets their bodies separate, only rearranging his arms around Jooheon’s quivering self in order to squeeze around him even tighter. He strokes one hand in a slow rhythm down the swaying curve of the younger’s back, while the other grips tightly at the base of his neck, fingers alternating between scratching through the outcropping of fine hairs there and just pressing at the soft flesh under them, spreading open to their full length in order to encompass and feel the entire span of Jooheon’s neck. He presses his nose into the crook of the younger hybrid’s mellow jaw, taking in a deep breath as he reassures himself with the very loud and very fast pounding of the other’s pulse.

The entire time he doesn’t allow his gaze to wander from the solitary figure who has been staring at them with such unblinking focus, it only makes Minhyuk hold Jooheon to him that much closer.

He doesn’t break eye contact with the boy, staring him down with slitted pupils even as the other hybrid slowly kneels to pick up a discarded jacket. Even in his bent position, he still manages to glare up at Minhyuk with the same strange intensity, crouched and ready as if waiting for a fight. The cat hybrid compulsively buries half of his face into Jooheon’s neck, who automatically makes room for him, tilting his head to the side in an accidental show of vulnerability. Minhyuk watches with his one unobstructed eye as the boy’s expression of gloomy placidness immediately darkens into one of unmistakable jealousy, and he decides on the spot that he doesn’t approve of him one bit.

Eventually, the silent battle between them fades, too tense to be continued as Jooheon shivers in the cold night air, so Minhyuk pulls the younger man back with a firm but gentle hold at the scruff of his neck. “We should go,” he states with quiet aplomb, and without even lending him a moment to reply nor to protest, he yanks Jooheon to him with a crushing grip and begins marching the both of them out of the whistling alleyway.

He’s completely aware of it when he passes by the silent boy, feeling the unsettling chill of the other’s unshakeable glare on him, but he resolves to walk past with his head held high, no intention of conceding even a bit at the tail end of this impromptu battle.

When the pale edge of the boy’s slim face slides out of view, his heart surges with a loud pitter-patter of triumph, that he’s gotten out of here with everything he needs intact (pride, victory, Jooheon), until he’s jerked to a stumbling stop, knees knocking, feet shuffling into the broken gravel.

He whips his head around, teeth furiously bared in a ready hiss, before he jolts to a frozen pause to observe the scene before him. The kid has somehow managed to grab Jooheon’s free hand with his scrawny arms and is currently holding it captive with both hands in a way that is entirely too familiar and intimate for someone Minhyuk has never met before, let alone someone he’s ever seen Jooheon hang out with.

The boy looks up, whispering something inaudible and clandestine, jealousy melting into the recognizable tenderness of the beginnings of loving infatuation. The edges of his mouth perk up in a crooked smile, and Minhyuk grudgingly admits it’s a good look on him. The nameless stranger finally breaks his lovesick eye contact to rummage for something in his skin-tight pockets, skinny hand emerging seconds later with a simple sharpie twisted between his fingers.

He hunches over, spreading Jooheon’s fingers open gently as he scrawls out what Minhyuk assumes to be his number in bold strokes of black, pressing each line without hesitation into the pale impression of the rabbit hybrid’s skin. Minhyuk sees himself ripping his frozen friend away, entirely aware of how loose the strange boy’s soft hold must be, and ruining the looping numbers with a jagged streak that would cross out any last remnants of his meager existence in their lives.

He stops though, compelled by some nameless impulse to at least wait for the other to finish his yearning, desperate task. Common courtesy is what he’ll call it for now.

However, the moment the wet felt tip of the pen lifts from Jooheon’s palm, Minhyuk is turning on the spot, resolutely dragging the younger man away, unwavering in his decision of never seeing this stranger’s slender, crookedly grinning mug ever again.

Jooheon stumbles along, heart aching with a deep, deep reluctance, and he raises his head back above his shoulder for one last farewell look. Changkyun is sliding on the small jacket he had lent him earlier with a casual shrug of his narrow shoulders, smoothing down one of the leather lapels with a blunt grip between his forefinger and thumb.

There’s something indescribably confident about it, something that makes it so undeniably attractive, that all Jooheon can do is let a flush overtake his face and raise his hand in a weak attempt at an innocent goodbye.

Surprisingly, Changkyun returns his wave with full fervor, and this time, Jooheon definitely isn’t hallucinating the tilted handsome smile that glints across from the far side of the receding alleyway. The burning embarrassment abates just enough for him to shoot back his own bright grin and enthusiastic wave, much to Minhyuk’s irked chagrin.

---------

“So do you forgive me yet?” Minhyuk grunts lowly as he focuses on lathering organic, herbal-scented shampoo into Jooheon’s plastered, wet hair. The “all-natural, vitality enhancing” label is really just some sly advertising tactic, a money trap for gullible omegas because of course rubbing some unknown flora into your scalp somehow works the wonders that your biology can’t. Minhyuk doesn’t believe that bullshit for one second, but for some reason Jooheon seems to be taken with how pungent and aromatic the smell of the cheap shampoo is.

Personally, he suspects the younger uses it as a makeshift scent dampener for the overwhelming sweetness that emanates from him in every possible manner - but that’s really neither here nor there; not when Minhyuk considers the bare fragrance of the other’s neck, softened by the healing morning light after a long night of heavy rest, free of any bitterness from the artificial scent of soap or body wash, but sweetened just so from a natural sheen of sweat from being coddled up under warm blankets and an even warmer embrace - it’s undeniably his favorite thing in the world.  

“Hmm,” Jooheon hums, tipping his head back into the Minhyuk’s impromptu massage, completely unaware of the gentle ramblings going through his head right now. Skilled fingers deliver a particularly hard dig to the flat plain between the two ridges of his dripping ears, and he can’t suppress the groan that flies out of the deepest part of his chest, melting into the steamy air with a resonating rumble that fades into something akin to a slight purr.

“Yeah, yeah you are until the end of time if you do that- “ Another circling stroke presses into the exact same spot again, and Jooheon sighs contentedly, letting the last word slip out fruitlessly in an attempt to complete his thought, “again.”

Minhyuk obliges silently, putting his elbows into the work as he goes through a systematic process of digging with the tips of his fingers here, kneading with the hard bone of his knuckles there, until Jooheon’s head is lolling loosely in his smooth hands, complete mush in his open palms. He cradles the rabbit hybrid’s slippery nape with a tight, secured hold, groping to the side of the tub for the pump bottle of “lush, skin-softening” body wash.

Again, Minhyuk believes none of it. Besides, Jooheon is already too soft on his own to need this kind of commercial exploitation. He pushes down on the flat top of the bottle anyway, squeezing the gelatinous liquid into his cradled palm and pushing it around with messy strokes of his fingers inward to try and warm up the cleanser. The scent of some indistinct plant floats into the humid bathroom to join the similar aroma of the shampoo, and Minhyuk suspects Jooheon of shopping for toiletry supplies with a very limited perspective.

It’s terribly precious, he decides with an aching tug in his gut, subtly tightening his grip on the younger’s nape as he gently urges with a push of his fingers and a press of his palm for Jooheon to sit up. The rabbit hybrid obeys, albeit with dragging reluctance, flopping his spine forward into a hazy slump the moment  his upper body slumps out of the foamy water.

“Hey,” Minhyuk reprimands, slapping his open palm over the hunched back in front of him with a resounding smack. The dozing rabbit immediately snaps up, whipping his head around with a few flying droplets of water to glare at the older hybrid. “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” Minhyuk ignores the other’s indignant stare and begins lathering up his back, starting another impromptu massage. Jooheon’s expression quickly fades into sleepy complacency again, dewed eyelids drooping as warm fingers soothe away the tenseness under his skin.

“You,” Minhyuk promptly notices and pinches the loose skin of the rabbit hybrid’s curved neck with a stinging pull. “Stop falling asleep - I still have to take off your makeup, okay?” He gives one last harsh pinch to Jooheon’s spasming nape, soothing a palm of body wash over it immediately afterward as a quiet apology.

When the only answer he receives is a slightly straightened bare back, he assumes the younger hybrid has vaguely comprehended his instructions and busies himself again with the task at hand. He’s so fixated on lathering up the translucent curve of Jooheon’s back, he almost misses the muted whisper that floats back from the haze of soap, bubbles, and lukewarm water.

“What about you hyung?” the other hybrid murmurs, voice filmy with the cottony down of oncoming dreams. In a lower tone, softer, but no less subdued, he offers with a jerky stutter, “I could - help you-” He falters, pausing at his own raw vulnerability, quickly tacking on an “ if you want” at the end to make his request seem less desperate.

Minhyuk’s wizened heart skips a beat, and his hands still for a moment in their tender ministrations. He wobbles back into action seconds later, resuming his cleaning with slow circles of a damp towel. “I don’t know Jooheonie,” he breathes out in an unsteady whisper, “you know the whole wet cat in water thing, not the biggest fan of sitting in a pool of my own filth for too long.”

The glimmering back in front of him slumps, and he can already see the childish pout forming over the other’s pink cheeks. He sighs, long and inevitable, and against all rational thought, he supplies apprehensively, “But a bath once in awhile couldn’t hurt, especially tonight I suppose.”

Before the last syllable has even left his lips, two dripping wet arms have fastened themselves around his neck, a slippery cheek pressing against his own frozen one, heated flesh bunched up in round apples of pure joy. Minhyuk immediately draws in one himself, fur shocked straight into the air as generations of animal instinct imbedded into him screech in fierce protest.

There’s already soap-laden water tickling down his neck, seeping into the collar of his ruined silk nightshirt as Jooheon tugs eagerly, without a hint of malice, at the drenched fabric. “Come on in hyung,” he exclaims, fingers frantically making quick work of of tiny, slippery buttons. Minhyuk can only sit back and allow his shirt to be jerked this way and tugged that way until a soothing touch slides the silk off from around his pointed shoulders. Despite the humid bathroom air, he finds himself shivering as a draft of nerves pass through him.

Fortunately, Jooheon backs off after divesting him of his shirt, waiting with a watchful gaze as Minhyuk slithers out of his pajama bottoms. His apartment is the typically overpriced and cramped dream of desperate millennials with one exception: the bathtub. It’s a plain, round, pool-shaped structure with a removable shower handle that can fit up to two people, three for a tight squeeze, and Jooheon has never been more thankful for his off-handed choice of a particular living space until now. Minhyuk rarely, if ever, subjects himself to prolonged contact within water, so he looks forward with inordinate glee to the moment he can dump a fistful of the offending liquid over the older man’s flattened ears.

“Don’t even think about it,” the cat hybrid bites out, sucking in a breath as he lowers himself into the rippling surface inside the bathtub. His tail, upon dipping a hair into the water, arches high into the air, dampened fur pressing itself to the straight, rigid line of his spine in a futile attempt to avoid the indefinite fate of being completely drenched.

“Hyung,” Jooheon sticks out his bottom lip, raising his hands up in an act of innocent surrender. His fingers are twitching, tips wrinkled and slightly pink from the steam, and Minhyuk has a moment of a terrible premonition, of him sopping and pathetic, ears drooped and dripping with the promise of a cold the next day.

“Fine,” he grits out, teeth grinding as his bones reluctantly creak and groan, shifting to expose his bare, goose-bumped back to Jooheon’s keen and ready hands.

Surprisingly, thank god, he isn’t immediately doused with a lukewarm wave, but instead with a rough towel that gingerly acclimates his clenched insides to the sensation of having a perpetual layer of liquid dripping across his usually dry skin. Jooheon cleans him in this slow, careful way, making the least of his discomforts with inaudible murmurs of reassurance and the soft, warm press of ethereal, airy fingers.

He moves on in the same manner to the elder’s scalp, taking special care with the other’s flicking ears. Even as they twitch at the unfamiliar cold wetness pooling inside sensitive caverns, the lathering hold of delicate strokes around the thin flesh surrounding his fragile bones almost relaxes Minhyuk enough for him to begin nodding off. Yeah, he concedes with a sigh, feeling the shampoo balloon into suds as affectionate fingers scratch the lather rhythmically in short strokes against his scalp. He can definitely see how Jooheon almost fell asleep multiple times to this kind of heavenly treatment.

After pushing his foamy head under the beating spray of the shower head, keeping him still there with a steady grip on his hunched shoulder, it’s finally Minhyuk’s turn: his turn to clean Jooheon’s supple complexion of all its smudged remnants of teary eyeliner and sticky patches of lip gloss and leave him glowing in all his bare-faced glory. He’s not going to lie, warming up a quarter of milky face wash in-between poised palms, he’s been looking forward to this.

The younger hybrid closes his eyes calmly, lashes fluttering and sticking in silken strings to each other as he entrusts himself entirely to other’s primed and ready touch. Minhyuk goes through the motions of this everyday with tight, emotionless professionalism for himself, for others, but it’s always been different with Jooheon. He takes his time, reserving all the clinical meticulousness for models on the rush of the runaway, leaving him only with a slow, aching tenderness for dreamy moments like these.

The flick of light lashes, clean of all drudging traces of mascara, the slow press of his fingers into the easy give of malleable cheeks, and the plumpness of peach-pink lips as he wipes away every last bit of gloss, thumb mild and soft in its careful touch - it’s all more than enough to make his heart twist with the most pleasurable ache.

He’s too entranced, vision blurred, mind hazy, to notice Jooheon’s lilting whispers playing like the relaxing crackle of a fiddling radio in the background of his consecrated ritual. It’s only when a strong murmur of “Changkyun,” injected with a burst of excitement, brushes past his cheek, does he snap out of his trance.

“Who?” Minhyuk questions snappishly, rubbing off the last layer of facial cleanser and internally mourning the inevitable end of his silent worship.

“The guy with me in the alleyway?” Jooheon replies, already slipping out of the tub and cinching a spare towel around his waist. The wet curve of his exposed hip glints above the rough white texture of the flimsy fabric, and Minhyuk wonders if it would be an appropriate time for him to saunter over there and pinch the supple flesh on innocuous display. From the other’s waiting glare, he supposes not.

“Oh, you mean that random kid slobbering all over your hand in the alleyway? Yeah, sure I remember him,” Minhyuk replies lightly, wrapping his plastered hair in a loose turban of cotton. The bath was vaguely fun while it lasted, but he’s entirely ready to never do that again, the provided exceptions being if his legs are literally broken and he physically isn’t able to stand up for a shower or if Jooheon simply asks him again. The chances of the second option, are unfortunately, quite high.

“He saved me in the club earlier from that creep in line, okay?” The rabbit hybrid protests, words muffled into the worn fiber of an old college t-shirt that he slips on over his head. “It was the least I could do in return - besides it was just some light scenting on the wrist,” he reasons, fiddling with the loose edge of hem so that it falls over his flushed collarbones.

“Sure, that’s obviously the thing you let an absolute stranger do to you when you’re out in an abandoned alleyway,” Minhyuk mutters under his breath from the next room over, rummaging around for a suitable shirt to replace his ruined pajama top. By the time he’s found one rumpled up under a pile of fallen bedding and blankets, his mood has considerably soured. Sleep deprivation is kicking in, along with the dread of working a five a.m. shoot tomorrow, and just thinking about the infuriating stranger from the club tonight is rapidly causing the onset of an ear-splitting headache to begin. He soothes a hand over the damp fur of his disgruntled ears in a cautionary preventative measure.

Jooheon pads over from the bathroom, barefoot, shuffling the tender skin of his inner thighs together as he leans a clothed hip against the door frame, gazing over at Minhyuk with bright eyes yearning to tell a story. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” the cat hybrid throws out decisively from his curled position on Jooheon’s meager twin-sized bed, eyes glued to his blank phone screen.

“Yeah, I’m going to text him tomorrow,” Jooheon throws back, interpreting Minhyuk’s excuse to suit his own purposes. He grabs his phone, the bunny charm hooked on the edge tinkling sweetly against his marked hand, the black numbers still stark and bold over his skin. There’s already a small smile perking over gloss-free lips as he plops down on the occupied bed, resting his back against Minhyuk’s stretched out figure. He saves the new contact with a nervous tapping of his fingers, spelling out changkyunnie after a moment’s deliberation.

Unbeknownst to him, Minhyuk has not been editing aesthetic shots for instagram the entire time, but he’s actually peeked over the length of Jooheon’s arm and taken down Changkyun’s number in his phone for his own indefinite plans that are rapidly taking form at this very moment. Strange alleyway sniffer is definitely receiving a text from him tomorrow as well.

Unaware of his friend’s plan, Jooheon sets his phone down with a content flutter of his inner schoolgirl’s heart and rolls over, pressing himself to Minhyuk’s drowsy heat. The cat hybrid slips his own phone under their shared pillow, five a.m. alarm already ticking down to his eventual shoot of actual death, and turns to tuck the younger’s soft, swollen, half-asleep face to his chest. Jooheon breathes in the fresh spring of cherry blossoms with a hint of whiskey, Minhyuk noses into clean curls of honey, wrapped in the sharp fragrance of lavender, and they both fall asleep intertwined in and around each other’s bodies and scents, all plans and schemes put off until the next dawn.

In the warm solitude of the night, they hold each other close, and that’s all they need for now.