#title has nothing to do with the drabble lol

[hanibalistic]

LOVE ME LIKE A GOD, BITE ME LIKE A MAN | JAKE SIM.

genre | fluff, angst / hybrid au

synopsis | you were jake's first patient after he obtained his license as an emotional support dog. except you asked for an actual dog, not a hybrid dog.  

word count | 6.2k+

warning | abusive parents (verbal abuse, degrading talk, mentions of physical abuse) / blood, violence, injury / mentions of depression, self-harm, suicide  

note | hi, i ate a whole family pack of golden oreos. they are better than regular oreo.

Golden retrievers never get angry. Golden retrievers never bite. 

It was a misconception Jake had heard left and right since he was born, but to him, it wasn’t much of a misconception; it was the truth. He could count on one hand how many times he’d felt hatred and anger toward someone, and he couldn’t count on one hand how many times he’d sunk his canine teeth into sensitive human flesh because he’d never done it. He grew up kind, polite, and genuine. Everyone told him so.

Support dogs never get angry. Support dogs never bite.

This was not a misconception. This was the law. It was part of the rules he had to memorize to become an emotional support hybrid dog during his trainee days. They were the first two rules. But, to him, it wasn’t much a law to abide by but rather a misconception.

You were his first patient, or rather his first owner. Most emotional support pets only have one owner, but you were a special case. he could recall vividly when his agent presented your case to him, they had jokingly addressed you as ‘the stepping stone.’ he later found out the nickname was an inside joke among the workers of this field to refer to patients with the highest likelihood to end their lives. The term ‘stepping stone’ was about how a support dog with experience with an owner like that tends to have more opportunities lined up for them afterward.

Before the first day of work, he was advised to be vigilant and observant. Be kind, be gentle, and be the emotional support dog he went through four years of schooling and obtained a license for. But remember, your death would ultimately be beneficial to him, so as long as it wasn’t his direct fault, it couldn’t be bad if you do end up killing yourself. 

Jake took the advice to heart. He was vigilant and observant. He was kind, considerate, and gentle. He wasn’t precisely the support you were looking for, though. You made it known the first day you met him that you requested a real dog, not a hybrid dog, and that he should promptly leave your apartment to report to the agency about the mistake. But he faltered with that demand—the only demand he didn’t adhere to. 

Perhaps he wished to prove a point, to uplift himself after his agent thought it was a bright idea to assign him a high-risk patient on his first day. If he could get you to spend the remainder of your natural life in moderate peace, it could mean a lot to his reputation in this career field. Or he hated how the word ‘stepping stone’ popped into his head the second you opened the door to your apartment, and he didn’t want you to be boxed into a category by people who could never understand what you were going through. Or, perhaps, he just didn’t want to give up on you, his first owner, the person he was set to build a devoted relationship with. 

He grew up kind, polite, and genuine. Everyone told him so. How could he leave you to rest your tired eyes alone? How could he leave you to rot?

Jake smiled a lot, but he wasn’t chatty. You understood why that was. You weren’t so talkative yourself, and conversations with you go nowhere interesting. He only said what he had to say and did what he was trained to do.

Heading out to get groceries, five minutes before he throws the dirty clothes in the washing machine, pick your feet off the ground when he’s sweeping the floor, if you would like fried rice for dinner. You look ill, he’ll take you to the doctor, he’ll wash your body with soap, he’ll give you medicine to drink. Happy birthday, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy Valentine’s Day. Good morning and good night. Please sleep well and wake up tomorrow. 

(He’s here, he’s always here. Look for him when you need him; call for him when you need him. He’s here. He’s always here.)

He was overbearing at his minimum, and you were uncomfortable with the care he had to provide you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you ordered a housekeeper, not an emotional support dog. But, housework and caretaking aside, he was good at providing emotional needs. 

Your mother’s sickening voice hollered out of your phone and drowned out your desperate attempts to stand up for yourself. It’s an old story that never ends, starting with her narrow-minded beliefs on your depression to her impossible standards for your quality of life that should have benefited hers. There wasn’t a moment’s rest in her tangent, and how ironic that she could hold her breath for so long while you could barely take one. 

Jake hid in a corner when your parents called for the first time. He has sensitive ears and a sensitive mind. He has never been yelled at, berated, or dehumanized. Your parents’ cruelty was unfathomable, given that he had parents who fought and bantered to love him the most, but it was easy to grow accustomed to it after a while. Now, he would fold his ears and ceaselessly stay near you no matter the distance you create because you didn’t think he deserved to hear those words. Your mother was never speaking directly to him, but the scars that land on your skin may as well land on his own. He thought you knew that much. 

You could pace the room, and he would follow. You could lock the door behind you, and he would sit outside patiently. You could shrink into a corner, and he would fold his knees to his chest and squeeze into the tiny space next to you. You could sit there silently for hours, and he would, too. Jake was ceaselessly near; this coffin was built for you and him, and sometimes you let him hold you to make space.

“You must think I’m pathetic,” you assumed quietly. “They’ve called me so many times. Not once have I successfully stood up for myself.” 

Jake’s tail began to sway at a slow rhythm. It was the first drop of your voice after an hour of white noise. He moved away from the couch and turned to face you on the floor. Your bloodshot eyes met his soft ones, and he wondered what the meek raise of your brows meant. 

“I don’t think you are,” he clarified with a shake of his head. It was true. He only thought good things about you. 

“Yeah?” You rolled your eyes. “You’re just being nice.”

“I am nice,” he agreed, with a grin settled more in his voice than on his lips. After a short pause, he rubbed his thighs and cautiously glanced at you. When you furrowed your brows at his suspicious movements, he finally spilled, “Your mom is mean.”

His comment made you heave out a dry chuckle. Nobody has ever insulted your mother before, not that what he said was much of an insult. But it was his honesty that really baffled you. His voice traveled with childish discontent, and he had nothing to add to that observation. Your mother was mean! That was it! You could almost envision a younger him stomping his feet and crossing his arms. It was laughable, an unknowing joy that occurred after a torturous phone call. 

Jake beamed at your smile. His sad ears perked with newfound excitement, and his tail wagged harder, bruising himself as it hit the feet of your coffee table. He leaned his torso forward, his chin scraping past the edge of the couch as he forced the sight of his grin upon your eyes. 

“You laughed!” he beamed. 

“You’re so silly, Jake,” you said as you adjusted your head on your arm. 

His eyes flickered as his smile dimmed with confusion. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re silly, Jake.”

(He heard you the first time, but he wanted to hear you say his name again.)

“I am,” he admitted. 

The way his shoulders rose, fitting his bashfulness perfectly between them, sent a tender exhale through your nose. You never quite noticed him, not enough to recognize the features on his face anyway. Your sadness cast a veil over your eyes, so you never looked at anything. And then you saw him—the way he bore his teeth in his grin temporarily lifted the blinding veil, and you saw him. His lit eyes, genuine smile, expressive ears, and white canine teeth.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” 

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Can I touch–well, you know–“ 

You struggled to speak. It seemed there wasn’t a proper way to address your curiosity about a dog hybrid’s body. You’ve briefly looked up their anatomy before, mainly because your attention was caught by a catchy title rather than to satisfy a desire to learn something different. Their body functions are relatively identical to yours, except they have the sensitivity and advantages of their animal counterparts. Heightened senses, night visions, high stamina, quick feet, and the most jarring of all—the myth that some of them have four ears. 

“What? I only have two ears!” Jake exclaimed as he pointed at his head, his ears raised in bafflement. He smiled in disbelief. The idea of having human ears was foreign. “Who made up a lie like that?” 

“Just the internet. People say the darndest things there. I shouldn’t have believed any of it,” you said, feeling somewhat embarrassed. 

“I get it. It’s okay. I’ve believed in worse things.” He waved his hands dismissively. His parents gave him a tablet for his birthday when he was young, so if anyone understood the repercussions of the internet’s freedom, it was him. “I spent most of my childhood thinking all those urban legends are real.”

You tilted your head. “Like Bigfoot?”

“Oh, no. I know for a fact that Bigfoot is real.”

You squint your eyes at his nonchalant response, and unfortunately, you couldn’t tell if he was joking. “Is that confidential hybrid information?”

“What have you been reading about us hybrids?” he cut you off with a dramatic exclaim, putting a hand on his chest as he leaned back to access you with incredulity. When he saw your timid frown, his eyes widened with affectionate panic, and he frantically shook his hands at your face. “I was joking! I was just joking! Hey, look, you can touch my ears if you want!” 

Heat bolted to your neck, and you abruptly sat up. He got up with you but maintained a comfortable distance as you curled your legs to your chest and shook your hand in disagreement. The smile on your face wasn’t forced, but it formed out of awkwardness. He could tell you were flustered as he leaned back on his heels, his fingers fidgeting at the sight of your smile. This was the most he’d seen of your expressions; you usually maintained a bland face. 

He liked it. He wanted to see more of it. 

“That’s okay!” you practically shrieked. 

“What, why? You were asking to touch them.”

“I don’t want to invade your personal space!” you reasoned, forming a cross with your arms. “I wouldn’t like it if someone came up and started rubbing my ears.”

“Well, yeah, I mean,” he slurred with a haphazard shrug, his hands being thrown up to his chest to accentuate his nonchalance. “I wouldn’t like that either, but you’re not coming up to me and doing it out of the blue. You asked for my permission, and I’m giving it to you!” 

You frowned. He didn’t understand that there was a dynamic here where he risked pushing you off the cliff of sadness if he rejected your request. You wouldn’t budge from the cliff; this wasn’t the kind of thing you spiral for, but you didn’t want that to be Jake’s thought process.

“Hey, come on! It’s okay! Us Goldens love being caressed. I really don’t mind,” he urged quietly as his knees tip-toed forward. He propped his hands on the edge of the couch, just before your feet, and smiled at you. “Give it a try.”

“I–“ you breathed out an airy laugh and curled your hand into a fist, stopping it just before his face–“I actually wanted to touch the spot on the side of your head where the human ears would have been.”

“That’s okay, but touch my ears anyway,” he requested politely as he carefully curled his hand around your wrist. He felt razor-like bumps on his palm and said nothing. 

He gently tugged your hand closer to his face, and with his persistent encouragement, you first tapped your index finger against the side of his face. There was nothing there, just a flat surface, as you anticipated. Carefully, you planted more fingers on his warm skin and began shifting. You traveled further to the back where his hair met, down to his neck, to the side to brush along his jaw, then back to those invisible human ears. 

Your touch was weak, and it held no aggression. He was sure it was a direct consequence of your lack of care for everything that made you so frail. Before he arrived, you didn’t bother with proper meals, never went outside to taste the sun, and couldn’t even bring the empty water bottles out of your room. 

But, more importantly, your touch belonged to you. 

You chose to react softly to him. You decided to be gentle with him. There was love in your hands; you gave it all to him. He received it with such grace and greed you would’ve never imagined.

Slowly moving your hand up, you reached his head where his ears sat. He shut the eye closest to where your palm landed on his head. His hair was soft, and his ears foldable. He pursed his lips and closed his eyes when you rubbed his ear, his tail still wagging behind him and his head nudging up against your palm. His toes wiggled to a rhythm while smushed between the weight of his body and the ground, completely drowned on the spot. 

Jake sat with contentment and patience. His bright eyes, squinted because he smiled with everything on his face, stared up at you. 

Your brows raised once you felt a shiver run up the side of your waist, a ghostly touch that was surprisingly fulfilling, rattling your heart and growing your space to accommodate his continuous presence. He’s here. The size of his ear solidified its shape in your palm, you could feel it better. He’s here. Something in you was changing, and you unknowingly beamed at it. You surrendered to it. 

Jake’s tail wagging halted to a slower rhythm. 

He really, really, likes you. You would’ve never imagined.

“Does this really feel nice to you? I imagine it could make me uncomfortable if I was in your position,” you asked, your voice clearer. “Let me know if you don’t like certain things normally done to dogs being done to you.”

He let out a nonchalant hum as if he couldn’t care less, but the way his hand reflexively flew up to hold your wrist in place, to keep you closer to him, told a different story about how he felt. 

“It’s okay, I like it. I like them all, the head pats and everything,” he said. “Besides, we’re not allowed to be annoyed.” 

He frowned when your movement trailed to a stop. “Oh, that’s not–that shouldn’t be how this works.”

“It’s a rule we learn during training,” he said, discreetly pushing your fingers up against his chin as a sign that he wanted to be caressed. 

“What other rules do you guys have?” you asked. “Also, you don’t have to follow that if you don’t want to. You’re here to help me, not be trapped with me.”

“That’s fine! We have many rules and were trained to follow them, so we will,” he said. 

Support dogs always prioritize their owners’s needs and safety. Support dogs never get distracted. Support dogs never discuss their owner’s issues with others. Support dogs never betray or lie. 

Support dogs never get angry. Support dogs never bite.

Jake bit your father the day of Christmas, and then he bit you. 

Like the downfall of Rome, all the progress he made with you collapsed that one festive night you decided to muster the courage to visit your parents. 

Jake had doubts, but he wanted to support one of the most significant steps you’ve taken to better your life, so he only followed you home. He held out hope that your parents changed, but even he knew that was wishful thinking. The phone calls you’ve received from them have yet to turn out for the better. 

All hell broke loose within five minutes of you all sitting down at the dinner table. 

Everything reverted to square one when you first swung open the door for him. How surprising to him that it all happened so quickly, too, the way your poised smiles (small as they were, it was an accomplishment to muster them) were replaced with deep exhales. Your parents complained without making space for any input, yet comically, they didn’t mind their own overlapping voices. 

But harsh words you could endure, as could Jake. He could make up for all the things your parents say with something as simple as a poorly told joke, folding his arms around your body, letting you squeeze his cheeks like a fidget toy, or making you taste the somewhat burnt cake he tried baking (and you would take a small bite to make him happy). You two could handle words. What broke your support dog was when your father decided raising his hand at you was a good idea.

“You stupid dog!” your father roared with a trembling hand.

You dropped out of your seat and raced to the corner where Jake slowly began to stumble to his feet. A nasty cut adorned the side of his face, reflections of glass pieces shimmering within the bloodied flesh where your father smashed his glass cup to get his jaw to let go. But it couldn’t be worse than the marks he left on your father’s old forearm, where skin peeled and tissues tore into the blood that flowed into a river on his plate, mixing with the blood of the steak. 

Jake’s eye twitched at the sight; he smirked like a rabid dog. He felt his mouth salivate, and he spat out the clump of meat he clawed from the hand that hurt you. 

This was a newfound sensation. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it vengeance? Spite? Disgust? Bloodlust? It felt like all of the above. 

“Honey, we need to get you to a hospital to check for infection.”

Your father shoved your mother’s pleas away and stomped toward you. It took a brief moment for you to realize he wasn’t coming for you but rather for the boy who dared to disrespect him. You panicked; you knew your father. You knew the wrath in his pride. Jake may have a physical advantage, but he did not possess the brutality your father did, not even for the man who dared harm you. 

“No!” You hastily stepped in front of Jake. “Dad, stop!”

“Get out of the way! You are enough of a disappointment as it is! Now you’ve gone and brought home a fucking half-breed! A wild animal!” your father accused with uncontrollable spit. “Look at what he did to me!”

“It’s his job to keep me safe,” you muttered through an exhale.

“Safe from what?” He sounded with an entire world’s certainty, being so sure he wasn’t wrong. “The only thing dangerous here is him!” 

“You were going to hit them!” Jake retorted, but he could not move closer to your father due to you blocking his path.

“It’s part of parental discipline!” your father’s hardened gaze was ferociously uncanny. “I don’t suppose you would know anything about that, dog.”

“Okay, no–“ you spun around and pressed a trembling hand to Jake’s chest–“come on, we’re leaving. We’re going home.”

“That’s not happening!” your mother protested from the sidelines. 

“Mom, please,” you held a hand up, “you don’t get to decide where he goes. He is my support dog, not yours.”

“I never implied that he is,” she retorted as she approached and stood beside your father. “But that thing is not going anywhere until the police arrive.” 

“Police? Try animal control!”

Jake furrowed his brows. He knew your parents were heinous beings, so he didn’t necessarily suffer the weight of their words. Not in the way they were intended to be taken, anyway. He didn’t care about them enough for their words to affect him, but you seemed to have taken a dramatic hit like you always did.

You kept your hand flat on his chest and whipped your head to look behind your shoulder at your father. With brows furrowed in disbelief, your heart beating out of your chest, and your lips pulled into a deep frown, you said, “You can’t call the police on him.”

“He bit my fucking arm, [Name]! Look at it!”  

You unconsciously flinched away when your father stomped with his bleeding arm extended toward your face. 

The edge of the open flesh was decorated with the shape of Jake’s teeth, and the dead skin flailed along with the hasty movements like a piece of torn cloth. The split wound gargled with fresh blood, screaming to be covered and protected once again, and there was the corner where Jake bit off a patch of skin. You could see the damage. It was as clear as day. You didn’t want to look at it, but your father was determined to victimize himself. 

“I see it, dad,” you said. “Stop showing it to me.” 

“You don’t get to complain when you’re the reason why this happened! Look at it properly, [Name]!” he hollered, demanded. “Look at what you fucking did to me! You’re a curse!”

You stumbled another step back to avoid closing distance with your father, but you realized he was backing you into a corner. Once your shoulder hit Jake’s chest, a curt whimper flew out of your mouth; you almost forgot he was here. He immediately put his hands on your shoulders to steady you and pull you closer to him. Your eyes were beginning to redden with desperate tears, and your arms were shaking to wrap around yourself. He bit back a deep, throaty hum.

“They didn’t do this to you,” he corrected, attempting to raise his voice to be heard, but all that came out was a low, distraught gruff. “I did.”

“Don’t talk to me. You’re mad, and you should be put down.”

“Dad!” you gasped, but sheer incredulity forced it back. The contrasting movement of your throat—throwing your voice out simultaneously as it suppressed it—choked you up, and the tears gathering in your eyes fell silently as you turned to see your father. You blindly reached for Jake’s hand; you sewed yours with his for comfort and perhaps to make sure he wouldn’t be taken away. “How could you say that?”

“Why not? Which agency did you get it from, hmm?” your father asked. By now, he seemed to have forgotten the pain in his arm and was clearly focused on making you as stressed as possible. “I want it returned immediately. If you want to continue with this bullshit pseudoscience and get a support animal for your depression, be my guest, but get a regular dog!”

You felt it difficult to exhale. The knot jumbled together with all the words you wanted to say to defend yourself was stuck too deep down your throat, you couldn’t stick enough fingers in your mouth to puke them out. Your parents’ relentless ignorance of your mental health was no stranger to you, and you didn’t understand why you kept hoping they would at least care about convenience enough to deal with it properly. Not even a doctor could get to them. What made you think you could?

Your silence was assumed to be rejection, and your father never reacted well to that. He didn’t like it when you talked back or disobeyed him. He has the right to not love you, but you cannot put others over him. You absolutely cannot choose a half-breed over him. His lip quirked on one side, exposing contempt through a permanent sneer, and he pointed at you with his bitten arm. 

“If you don’t return that fucking dog, I will sue the agency, and that thing behind you is getting euthanized!”

“I’ll kill myself.” 

Jake’s ears rose from its folded position. He glared at the back of your head, but his eyes held no more malice than reluctance. He couldn’t bring his hand to fold over yours since you were holding him too tightly, practically shattering his bones.

Then came a short-lived silence. Your parents accessed you with calculation, debating whether to take you seriously. There was an invisible threshold to this—for how long could they wait and neglect your issues with the guise of disbelief until your body starts to shut down and ceases to function? The answer was three years. It took three years for them to handle your depression, but that was because your body was visibly dying in their home, and you became a sore sight. You disgusted them.

They were doing an identical mental gymnastic as they stared at you: for how long would you be suicidal until it becomes their problem? They have no plans to take precautions any moment earlier.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” your mother accused. 

“I’m serious.” You let your chest heave with slow and steady hiccups. “If Jake dies, I’ll kill myself.”

You have to be ceaselessly near him; this coffin was built for you and him, and you let him hold you to make space. 

“Don’t bother holding a funeral for me. I know you’re not going to hold one for him,” you said with a shrug. “Let his parents take care of the both of us.”

The contortion of annoyance on their faces made you chuckle. Not for a second did they consider Jake to be just as human as themselves, that he has friends and families that loved him. Friends and families that accepted you into their home with open arms the moment he introduced you. But beyond realizing that, they were irritated that you trusted his parents to send you off at the end of your life. It hinted that not only were you capable of being loved elsewhere, Jake’s parents, possibly half-breeds, were objectively better people.

You deflated their ego. It was the worst crime. 

“You’re all bark and no bite,” your mother grumbled through gritted teeth. “It’s always been this way with you. You never truly let yourself rot away because you’re afraid.”

You rotted away in bed, but you always got up for school and work in the morning. You said they caused you depression, but you haven’t cut ties with them and picked up their phone calls whenever they rang. You wanted to kill yourself, but you haven't actually gone through with it. 

Everything you do is half-hearted. Even with your illness, you couldn’t suffer it properly. Moving away, not visiting them during holidays, and getting yourself an emotional support dog was all for show. Your parents had no reason to believe your puny threats. 

Jake glanced down at your once intertwined hands. He tilted his head slightly, the top of his ears raising in faint alert when a whiff of acid crossed his nose. It wasn’t a physical smell but rather an inkling, a sensation so unknown that his brain manifested it into something tangible for him to describe. It smelled terrible; it smelled of doom, corpses, and leaked gas. He remembered smelling something familiar before. It was a memory rarely dug up to relive. 

“Give it up, [Name]. You’ve been at this for years,” she huffed. “You’ll kill yourself? What a joke.”

You loosened your grip on his hand, and suddenly, you completely slipped from his fingertips.

Your steps were slow and steady, your mind made up within the spur of the moment with determination for the ages. Blindly sifting a hand through the dining table, you kept your deadpan eyes on them. Your lips uncontrollably quirked down to indicate how frightened you were, but you continuously forced them back into a neutral position. Once you felt the handle of a piece of silverware, be it the knife or the fork, you moved the fastest you’ve ever been and rose in the air. You lunged the tip of it toward your neck, and you felt a blockage that didn’t hurt. 

Jake’s knees buckled at the pain. He squeezed one eye shut as he focused on leaning his nerves into it, trying to distribute the sharpness of the steak knife through all inch of his body so the pain wasn’t concentrated on the hole stabbed through his palm. You let go of the handle in panic once you realize his injury; he put his free hand on your neck to feel for even the faintest poke of the knife. 

The acid smell was gone. Now everything smelt of you.

“Did it nick you?” he asked when he saw your pursed lips quiver. “The knife. Did it hurt you?”

Your face scrunched as you cried. The fact that he found it in himself to question your safety was not lost on you. It has been this way since forever, him prioritizing you over himself in various scenarios, going from the most trivial things to the worst accidents. The burn scar under his sweater sleeve reminded you that pain owned a lover’s face just as much as his palm on your face reminded you that care could overwhelm it. 

“I’m just sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. I’m not mad at you,” Jake whispered, his thumb moving toward your tears. “Hey, look at me. I’m not mad at you.” 

His palm wasn’t as smooth as it used to be. It hurt when it touched your face the way stubbles would. His skin was soft as silk and smooth like a newly paved road when you first met him. Now, they’ve thickened, and they felt old. Taking care of you took a toll on his physical body—cooking, cleaning, and riding the bicycle. Bandaging, rubbing, and blocking sharp objects. While he did grow stronger, he was also uglier, with peeled edges and tiny scars, and it was all because of you. 

His voice was as loving as you have always heard. Like a summer breeze that blew hats away from beautiful heads, the face of its owner revealed after their hair settled down. Like the plastic sound of your pillow when he shifted to make space in your bed, his hands no longer fearful of your bare skin. Like the twirl you let him guide you into on your way home together, the street empty with only fallen leaves as company. You didn’t know, but it was also because of you. 

Reaching your hands to grasp his wrist, you let your trembling lips talk, “I want to go home. Please take me home.” 

Jake did. With a gaping hole in his hand and an earful of fading protests, he brought you both home.

“Your hand hurts,” you pointed out. Our hand hurts. 

“We will go to the hospital tomorrow,” he muttered with a pinch of the bandage he wrapped tightly around the wound. The red spot in the middle stopped growing. 

Bandaging him was the first thing you two did once you returned to your apartment. The knife he pulled out of his hand was hastily thrown somewhere on the floor and never cared for again. His blood sunk into a stain on the floor, an identical match to the image printed under your uncleaned feet when you stepped over it. 

You stared at his hand with dry, split lips. You didn’t dare let yourself add any ointment or moisture. You didn’t have the energy to, and you figured it was punishment for yourself. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“I’m not mad at you, I promise,” he hummed, dropping his hand on his lap. 

“Not just that. I’m sorry I tried to stab myself too.” 

He peered up from where he was staring, realizing he hadn’t thought about your bold actions tonight. He knew you have self-harm tendencies, and you used to be dangerously suicidal, but they have mellowed out for the better so far. He figured his presence has helped you somewhat subdue those urges, so he hasn’t thought about it in detail for a while. But, seeing what you did today, he wasn’t as upset as he used to be. 

“I’m not mad at you for that either,” he said, turning his head to look at you. 

“I didn’t think it would come this easily to me. Given the situation, my spite may have encouraged me to move forward with it,” you confessed as you rubbed the base of your neck, feeling a gentle pulse. Your elbow touched his shoulder. “I was scared, but even then, I wanted to feel pain. Any indication that this could be the end.”

“You could be relapsing,” he said. 

“Yes.” You nodded, then shifted on your bed to comfortably lean your head on his shoulder. “Would you take care of me if I end up doing it? Plan me a proper funeral and everything before you take your next case.”

You’ve uttered a similar topic, debating his sense of responsibility and enticing him with opportunities easier to handle than yours. He could be having a much greater time being the caretaker of another. At least he wouldn’t have to worry if his owner would even wake up the next day. He denied you any comments on that because it wasn’t appropriate for him to discuss his feelings. He was being nice.

Now, it was nothing but faithfulness, with his feet cemented into the ground where you stood, with the loyalty of a dog to its owner. No place was better without you, and no place was worse with you. He would pass up any opportunities, but even then, it was never about that. It was about being with you. It was always about being with you.

Jake clenched his injured hand to feel a stinging pain, and he prayed that the pain would linger forever so he would never forget who he belonged to. 

“I’ll kill myself if you do,” he said. 

“Don’t talk nonsense,” you gasped after pulling back to eye him pointedly. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m serious. We die together,” he said. “I can’t be here if you’re not.”

He would lose all that was good about life to follow you, as it was never about giving up heaven but creating hell. A hell where only you and him existed. Jake looked the devil in the eyes and spat in his face, for the devil could never understand true pain and torture, for the devil could never understand true devotion. With all that you’ve given him and all you’d one day take from him, Jake created a new hell far damned than what was already known. For he loved you more than God despised his own, for he yearned for your sabotage more than the devil wept for a believer. 

This coffin was built for you and him. You were a slaughterhouse, and he walked into you like the good dog he was. 

The proximity of your faces was more visible now that neither of you spoke. You could feel his breath, and he could see your pores. At some point, your closeness became less of an everyday normality. It was more a sign that both of you have been starving, that there was an eternity to be discovered if one of you would close the gap. 

“You’re really relapsing,” he whispered, to which you replied through a shared look of exhaustion. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Where is it?” 

You frowned, unsure of what he was asking. “Where is what?”

“You said you wanted to feel pain,” he said as he pulled away and touched your neck. “Where?”

“I don’t understand–“ you struggled to maintain eye contact–“anywhere, I suppose.”

“Okay.” 

Golden retrievers never get angry. Golden retrievers never bite.

You sucked in a bated breath and held onto it when he suddenly, but carefully, cupped your chin and moved your head to the side. Out of your peripheral vision, you could see him lower his head. His hair tickled your jaw, and his full lips graced the surface of your skin. He ghosted over your neck, announcing his presence where you were most sensitive to touch, and for the first time, he harshly gripped you in place. 

“Jake?” you trembled out. 

“This will hurt.” 

But it will be out of love, unlike the knife you tried to stab through your body. 

Support dogs never get angry. Support dogs never bite.

Jake bore his teeth. He bit down. 

[cash-111]

What do they think about marriage?

Pairings: slytherin guys x reader

A/N: I am having a severe case of marriage fever, if that even exists. Anyways, have this small HC drabble, tell me what you think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Theodore:

Honestly I think he’d be against the idea for a pretty long time (seeing his mother as sort of ‘trapped’ before she died), he’d resent marriage through most of his early life.

But then he’d meet you, and you’d start going on 1, 2… 5 years together? And it would just start to feel so right, so he’d have to pop the question.

He’ll want nothing more than to reclaim this sacred bond as his with you by his side.

Mattheo:

Didn’t really care about marriage one way or another. I do think he’d be secretly very enamored with the idea of a more domestic life, though.

Once he finds the right person, something clicks and he knows he’ll want to spend the rest of his life with them.

Marriage is just one way to crown this desire, and if you want it, he’ll happily oblige.

Draco:

He was brought up with marriage in mind, and I don’t think that bothers him much; it’s just a stepping stone he has to take at some point, though he’s adamant about making his own independent choice when it comes to when, who and how.

His parents may or may not approve of you, he doesn’t care (though it’d be easier if they did), once he’s set on the idea of marrying you that is exactly what he’ll do.

(On another note, I also think he’d find himself enjoying organizing it lol)

Enzo:

Dreams of marriage. Secretly goes through revenue and dresses catalogs when he’s feeling particularly down or lonely.

I think he’d be one of the quickest to take the knee, and even quicker to realize you’re the one he had been waiting for.

Blaise:

Also someone whom I think really holds dear the idea of having such a companionship.

I always imagine him as a single child born to single children, so I think he’d have some kind of family heirloom given to him pretty early in, like his grandma’s ring.

Once you guys have been going out for a while I think he’d roll it around in his hand late at night, while he watches your sleeping form breathe peacefully.

Tom:

Does not want it.

In his plans there had never been any space for that kind of frivolous distraction, plus any title that is bestowed by someone other than him is pretty much meaningless.

(He’s so napoleon takes the crown coded)

Instead, he’d hold a “devotion ceremony”, where you make an unbreakable vow that seals you to him forever. Romantic isn’t he? You should be grateful.

[dawnagustd]

hours || jjk

⇝ title: hours ⇝ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ⇝ genre: humor, i think? | neighbors to lovers | smut | implied unestablished relationship to established relationship ⇝ summary: You walk across the hall and visit your neighbor Jungkook every Wednesday to drink, chill, sing some karaoke… watch some Netflix. But you always end up wobbling back to your apartment after hours of doing all kind of unholy things. Not tonight. ⇝ rating: 18+ ⇝ word count: 3k ⇝ warnings: alcohol consumption | strong language | they’re both kind of bratty but cute | mentions birth control | pussy eating | edging | fingering | unprotected sex | pull out method | cervix touching/bulging | jungkook has a lip piercing and a septum piercing | uhh he puts his nose in her coochie lol | light tit slapping | teasing | throat grabbing | dirty talk | hairstyling (wink, wink) | missionary | cum shots | squirting | slight dom!jk | nipple sucking | breath play | crying | ass worshiping | aftercare | bam makes an appearance | naked jk… yes this is a warning and you will see why | i brought up BTR, i need to apologize immediately for that | discussions about relationships | i think that’s all

⇝ author’s note: she’s here, bitches!!!! lol thank you @m1sss1mp​ and @monvante​ for putting posters of this man all over my blog. this fic is for the both of you. thank you so much for holding my hand through it all. thank you @baljinciaga​ for beta’ing and screaming in the comments because you gave me the confidence to post this lol. listen, i’m rusty with the smut y’all so i apologize if it’s a mess. anyway, i hope you enjoy. this has been beta’d but there’s still probably some errors since i changed some things after it was beta read.

masterlist | permanent taglist form | read on ao3

drabbles: the unholy drabble | nails drabble | keeps

“So are you spending the night or…?”

Jungkook props himself on his elbow so he can see you. He uses his fingers to comb some hair away from his face, revealing his flushed cheeks and a horseshoe septum piercing. Ask yourself how many rounds you’ve gone, and you wouldn’t be able to give an accurate answer.

You came over at six, had a beer, did some karaoke, showed him some shit you learned in twerk class, and as some as the Netflix intro came through the tv speakers, your clothes were scattered all over his apartment and your ass was in the air while Jungkook fucked up your guts.

This is kind of a Wednesday night routine for you two. Has been for a few months. You’re just vibing and having fun with your hot neighbor, nothing serious yet. Right?

“As much as I’d like to stay—”

“Pussy.”

Your mouth falls open.

“Excuse me?”

He giggles until you reach for his hair and tug on his strands. You slide closer, trying to intimidate him but he keeps teasing.

“You’re pussy. You’re tapping out,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Boy, I’ve never tapped out a day in my life. Get the fuck out of here.”

Your thumb wipes the little smirk off of his face, but it returns seconds later.

“Your dick isn’t that good. Humble yourself,” you joke.

His cocky ass knows you’re dickmatized, but you still won’t admit it. 

“Whatever. You know I’ve been holding back.”

“And who told you to do that?”

“You,” he answers. “Oh, Jungkook! Please, I’ll come!”

You smack his ink-covered arm drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“You’re so full of shit, Jungkook. Okay, let’s fuck again, and don’t hold back this time,” you request.

Jungkook begins shaking his head, laughing at your persistence.

“Love, the only one getting that kind of dick is my girl so…”

“So what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He shrugs. “You tell me. You know I’ve been trying to see about that.”

An eye roll from you follows his statement. “Whatever, I’ve already let you know how it is.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say when you’re not stuffed with cock,” he gripes.

“Well, come here then. I’ll say it in your ear.”

You call him over using your finger, but he doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, love.”

You throw the covers off of both of you, kicking the comforter until your legs are free. Jungkook doesn’t move initially when you spread your legs. He stays in a sitting position, letting his hair fall in his face while he smiles menacingly. His Calvin Klein’s hug his thick thighs, creating creases in his flesh.

“Well, show. Teach me. Make me aware,” you tease, using your foot to caress his calf.

“Careful, baby.”

His throat growls those words, his voice dropping octaves so low your pussy clenches.

“Why? Tired, hm?”

“You know that’s not it,” he chuckles.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit your pussy gets wet just looking at him. Imagine being hot inside and out. That’s Jungkook. A gentleman, and the cutest weirdo immediately after. The sex is just the cherry on top.

You two just clicked, and the rest is history. Whether you need someone to act an absolute clown with or someone to fuck your brains out, Jungkook is that guy. You can’t keep your hands off of him, and he can never resist the chance to slide his dick in you.

“I don’t. So make me understand.”

“Ai yi yi,” he sighs. Then he looks at you and shakes his head. “...so much attitude.”

“Fix it for me.”

Jungkook nods then swiftly pounces on you. You start giggling, knowing you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re pushing it, you know.”

“I don’t care,” you retort.

Jungkook smirks. “Oh, you will.”

He lowers his body, leveling his face with your pussy. You can feel small puffs of air leave his lips and come in contact with your center. 

Jungkook brings two of his fingers to your entrance and prods teasingly, getting you riled up almost instantly. You grip the sheets and lift your lower body off the bed to chase his digits, but he doesn’t push in.

“Still wet for me?” he asks. Jungkook spreads your folds to examine your arousal, looking at you when he discovers that you’re soaking. “Damn, you are.”

The sound of your slick as your opening widens makes your cheeks burn with shame. You turn away, but Jungkook doesn’t like that.

“Uh, uh. You wanna get fucked, you gotta watch,” he says.

Reluctantly, you give him your attention and you immediately regret looking away. His messy hair and puffy eyes give you butterflies as you wait for his next move. You almost forget about how close his face is to your cunt.

Jungkook’s fingers slowly slip into your pussy. You gasp while they sink deep into your crevice. He knows the exact route and the perfect arch in which he must curl them to make your body quiver with pleasure.

Hearing your arousal filling the room entices both of you and Jungkook becomes eager to pick up the pace. Your hips buck and move in a circular motion to match his movements, creating a familiar build-up of pressure within your core. The sheets below you start to dampen from the juices dripping down your center.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers before he kisses your clit. “And you taste so good.”

Jungkook makes out with your bundle of nerves while his fingers pump in and out of your opening. His hair covers his face, much to your disappointment, so you gather it all and keep it contained in a makeshift ponytail. 

Now that his face is visible, you can see the way his tongue swipes your pussy each time his lips part. You moan his name, swelling him with so much pride he can’t help but smile briefly. His fingers slide out of you but only so he can kiss lower and fuck you with his tongue.

The deeper he enters, the more pressure his nose places on your throbbing clit. His septum piercing tickles your center as he rubs his face in your pussy, creating a pleasant sensation that penetrates your core. 

Quickly, you lose control over everything. You can feel your stomach tightening, hear your moans getting louder, smell the desire growing stronger but you’re unable to grasp the one thing you so desperately want. It’s so close, but then, Jungkook snatches it away.

“Fuck, you asshole!”

Jungkook suddenly stops just as you’re reaching your peak. He withdraws and leaves you a whining mess while he laughs.

“Oh, now I’m an asshole?” His smirk never fades while he removes his underwear and tosses them on the floor. “I think I’m a gentleman.”

He looks over at the nightstand and sighs defeatedly.

“Fuck, man.”

“What?”

“Out of condoms,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill. We’re good.”

“Are you sure? I can just finish—”

“No, just pull out, dude. I wanna get fucked,” you insist.

“Well, yes ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Jungkook hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you on his lap. He keeps one hand underneath your thigh while the other one grabs his dick. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he strokes his cock a few times, using your arousal for lubrication before he aligns with your center.

The tip probes your entrance until it’s nestled inside and he no longer needs to hold his shaft. He redirects his attention to your clit, and he massages your bud as he buries his cock inside of you.

“Shit!”

Your back arches and your fist punch the bed. Inch by inch he fills your pussy until he can’t fit any more of himself inside of you. The fullness you feel from his girth leaves you breathless and panting.

“Still so tight,” he whispers. “...feels so good.”

Jungkook hovers over you when you lie down again and kisses you, leaving the taste of your pussy on your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth and arousal coats your tastebuds. Your moans are muffled but are still clearly heard. His name escapes your lips repeatedly as you beg him to fuck you.

“Ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Another kiss graces your lips and then another for your chest. He moves to your breast and does the same to your nipples, but envelopes the right one between his lips and suckles it tenderly. Your arms wrap around him to bring him closer as he starts nibbling your sensitive bud with his teeth.

He starts to move, setting a pace that has your toes curling instantly. You bury your face in his dark strands and beg him to keep going.

“Jungkook, please don’t stop. It’s so good.”

“I’m not,” he promises, sending waves of vibrations through your areola. His mouth feels so warm and moist against your skin. Hair raises along your flesh caused by both the chill of the room and Jungkook’s gentle touch. It’s a contrast from the way he roughly thrusts inside of you, but it’s the kind of fire and ice that has your body yearning for more. 

As if he can read your body language, he changes his position. A lewd noise pierces your ears when his lips release your stiffened nipple. The cold air makes your skin tingle due to the sensitivity and the presence of his saliva. 

Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. His fingers comb his hair away from his face, revealing his flushed face, his pierced lip tucked between his teeth. The intimacy of the moment intensifies the pleasure growing inside of you, and your watery eyes begin to produce thick salty droplets.

“Feel good, baby?” Jungkook quizzes. “Does it really feel that good?”

“Yes, Jungkook. It…”

Your voice is so weak and raspy. You have difficulty speaking clearly, and articulating your sentences. Jungkook is very displeased.

“Speak up,” he requests. He slaps your tits, leaving you trembling and hanging on by a thread. Your pussy clenches around him, and he responds by squeezing your throat. “You feel that?”

You croak out a response. The best you can with your airways being constricted.

“Good,” he grunts. “That’s how my dick feels inside this tight fucking pussy.”

He loosens his grip and air finally refills your lungs, making you lightheaded. Your head starts spinning, your vision becomes blurry, and slowly the familiar feeling begins to form within your gut. Grabbing Jungkook’s arm, you try to warn him, but you are immediately dismissed.

“Nope. I’m not done.”

Jungkook opens your legs wider and his thrusts deepen. It’s like he’s trying to fit his entire dick inside of you, but each time he runs out of room. 

You can feel him entering your guts over and over. The blunt outline of his cock is faintly visible whenever it lodges itself in your womb. Your muscles clench tightly as you try your hardest to keep it together.

One thing’s for certain, he has been holding back. Now you’re addicted to this new side of him, and there’s no other way you want him to fuck you. It feels like no experience you’ve ever had; you can’t get enough, but your body can only take so much before you lose control.

“Ah, shit! You’re fucking tight.” Sweat drips from Jungkook’s forehead as he struggles to hang on. He’s drawing this out; savoring the moment just like you are, but both of you are nearing your peaks, and it’s only moments before you topple over the edge. “I want this forever.”

“You have it, though. I’m not going anywhere,” you promise. “I’m yours.”

“Oh, fuck.”

Jungkook’s movements stutter when he hears your voice speaking to him through your soft moans. Your words are like a match igniting a flame deep inside of him. He begins fucking you harder, like he’s on a mission to ruin you.

“Shit. Come on my dick, baby,” he moans, probably waking the neighbors. “Make a mess.”

At his command, your body gives in and chases the pleasure it’s been longing for. You scream his name like it’s the only word you know. Your soul leaves you lying on the bed and elevates to the ceiling, probably even further. You tremble and shake beneath him as the coil snaps inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure shooting through your veins.

Your arousal gushes out of you with enough force to push Jungkook’s dick out of you. He slaps your pussy repeatedly, milking you dry while he strokes his shaft. As you lay there, squirting out the last of your orgasm, you slowly return to your body, but you’re still basking in your post-sex daze.

“Flip over.”

Jungkook turns you on your stomach and straddles your thighs. He strokes his cock while he stares at your ass, still tender from all the spanking he did early. He slaps it with enough force to get a muffled moan out of you. Your head remains buried in the pillow because your body refuses to move an inch.

“Softest fucking ass on the planet,” he mumbles. “And all mine.”

You relax under his touch as his large hand begins to massage your flesh. You become more exhausted as the seconds tick by. Jungkook’s pants and moans fill your ears as he chases his high, and soon his breaths become shallower, indicating that he’s approaching his release.

“Fuck.”

Moments later warm droplets of his cum paint your ass while Jungkook cries your name. He plops on top of you, careful not to use all of his weight, and leaves kisses along your shoulder. When his breathing settles, he gets up and finds a shirt to clean your body. He covers you with the blanket when he’s done so you aren’t cold.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, and you giggle.

“I’m here.”

“Well, I wish you’d say something.”

When you turn your head in his direction, you find him standing there in all of his naked glory, his dick slowly deflating, but still standing at attention while he chugs down his leftover beer.

“Maybe you should drink some water,” you suggest.

He puts the mug down and raises a finger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be back.”

When Jungkook leaves, the door remains open and someone else enters the room moments later. You don’t even flinch when Bam jumps on the bed, claiming his spot at the end. You’re just glad he’s finally warmed up to you. At first, you think he was a little jealous, but you guess he realized that with you in the picture, he receives two times the love and attention.

Jungkook’s footsteps make their way down the hall and he’s shocked by the sight of his pup lying beside you when he enters the room. 

“I see you two have finally become friends,” he points out. He walks over to the bed and gives Bam some love while he whispers to him. “Don’t steal my girl, dude.”

You giggle and shake your head, as if Bam would ever leave his side. You’ve noticed that he has been more drawn to you lately, but you think it’s just him getting used to you being around. He knows you aren’t going to steal his dad from him, so now he’s more open to spending time with you.

“Did you bring me some water?”

Jungkook nods. “Of course.”

He gives you the water bottle and you sit up so you can drink some. Jungkook sits beside you and waits for you to finish. 

You know he’s about to ask you something, so you quickly gulp down your water to get it over and done with. 

On cue, he speaks.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I don’t know, Jungkook.”

“That’s not an answer. I mean no is fine, but I just wanted some kind of idea about where this is going,” he states.

You’ve thought about it, and dating Jungkook isn’t a bad idea. You’re just nervous because this is going so well and you don’t want to mess it up. However, the advice your friend gave you a week ago still plays in your mind.

“If you really need more time, it’s fine but I feel like you’ve been holding back too. I want you in my life, Bam wants you to be his mom, and—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, fighting back a smile, but you fail. 

“What is it?”

You set your water on the nightstand and grab his hand. You absentmindedly trace his tattoos, while you talk to him.

“I’m nervous because I don’t want this ‘honeymoon’ phase to end,” you start. You can see his shoulders droop because he thinks this is bad news. However, it's not. “But every day we grow closer, so why should I let my mind prevent my heart from being happy?”

“You are so fucking trashed,” he blurts out. “Did I really fuck you that good?”

“Jungkook shut the fuck up. I was trying to be deep. Leave me alone.”

You try to turn away and go to bed but he pulls you on his lap.

“Hey, I’m kidding. That was cute,” he says. “I got it. You like me, and I like you. Let’s just continue to take it slow.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm. But just so we’re clear, you’re my girlfriend now by default because we just… Well, you know.”

“I’ll be that,” you reply. “As long as you’re my… boy boy b-b-b-b-b-boyfriend.”

When Jungkook rolls his eyes, you erupt with laughter, knowing he doesn’t want to admit he likes BTR.

“Whatever, go to sleep.”

“In my bed, or yours?” you ask.

“Don’t start.”

You both snuggle together on the dry side of the bed while Bam snores peacefully at your feet. Jungkook hugs you from behind and the two of you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

But your boyfriend has already tapped out. Looks like you’re the real champ around here.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback.

[fleurriee]

— change in plans ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; you and neteyam had been mates for a short while now. when you start to feel ill, suspicion starts to cleave your mind, and you can’t help but worry about your mates reaction.

word count ; 2.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; mentions of being sick, worrying thoughts of not being a good enough mate, use of y/n

author’s note ; starting a dad!neteyam series bc this man is all i want in life and he’d be the perfect dad if he was only given the chance :(( screw u, james. lol this was originally going to be a drabble series but when i checked the wc for this & saw over 2k, i just thought fuck it. so, this series is gonna have a different wc every time 🤙🏻

next part

dad!neteyam series masterlist main masterlist request a fic!

Groggily opening your eyes, attempting to blink away the sleep that was still lingering there, you take a deep breath in, grumbling noiselessly to yourself. Fresh air and morning sunlight filtered in through the gaps until they surrounded your sleepy figure. You feel around on the bed next to you for the familiar presence that has been a comfort to you for around several months now. When your hands only come in contact with the bed mat beneath you, you turn your head in the same direction, heart sinking at the emptiness of the space.

You knew Neteyam was important to your clan — he was next in line for Olo’eykyan, after all — but sometimes you wished he wasn’t. Without the title weighing down heavily on his shoulders, you’d be able to spend a lot more time together, planning out your days and getting ready for your future. Instead, you awoke more often than not alone, your homely tent slowly start to turn isolated and desolate.

Of course, you’d never tell your mate of your thoughts — Neteyam was already guilt-ridden enough whenever he eventually made his way back into your arms after such a long and strenuous day, apologising profusely for not having spent enough time with you. In those times, you do nothing but comfort him, reassure him that you’re okay and that you understand.

But, that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.

Stretching out your limbs to get some life back into them, you slowly start to climb up off the mat, looking around your hut for some breakfast. Your tent that you shared with your loving mate was a place you treasured deeply, one you considered to be your very own safe-haven. Not too long after your official mating with Neteyam, he had secretly been sneaking off whenever he had the spare time — which, admittedly, wasn't that often — to built a home for the two of you. Initially, you hadn't really thought of his disappearances that much, but when he started sending you sneaky glances out the corner of his eye, subtle smiles directed only at you, you began to get your suspicions.

He had taken you away from his family, covering your eyes and carefully walking you in a random direction, before revealing the surprise. Your heart had melted into a pool of warmth, surrounding you completely and utterly. You were a blubbering mess — whilst this was something you knew would be happening soon for the two of you, you were never expecting it to feel such a way for you.

It felt official.

Now, your home was filled to the brim with memories and personal memorabilia. Beads and feathers you had collected all your life that represented a different moment in your relationship; personalised weapons and clothes that you had made for one another during your courting ceremony, and one corner that smelt entirely of the two of you from where you sleep, where you come together as one soul each night and show one another how much your love means.

In another corner of the tent lies two baskets — one filled with fruit, and the other filled with meat. When you’d first mated with Neteyam, he had insisted on collecting all the foods the two of you would need for your home. You had found the offer loving, your heart fluttering in your chest as his desire to provide for you, but declined. You were to be mates, which meant you wanted to provide for him, too. So, after several long discussions, you’d compromised that Neteyam would hunt the meat, and you would forage the fruit.

It was a routine that worked quite well, taking note of the good amount of the ratio as you looked down in the baskets. Giving yourself a moment to contemplate what you wished to eat on that particular morning, moments away from reaching down and grabbing to your heart’s desire, a funny feeling started to tingle in your stomach.

Taking in another deep breath, you told yourself that it was nothing, that it would disappear, but it only seemed to grow worse. With one hand on your stomach, the other covering your mouth, you rushed over to the entrance of your tent, opening the flap and spewing up last night’s meal into the empty bucket outside.

You took a moment to breath afterwards, catching your breath and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You looked around at the clan surrounding you, wondering if anyone had taken notice of you — as far as you were aware, no one had. So, walking back inside your tent, you went over to the fresh water yourself and Neteyam kept stocked and washed your hands.

Looking back over at the basket of fruits and meats, you decided you’d skip that morning’s breakfast.

“And then what happened?”

You were out in the lush forests of Pandora, taking a walk with Kiri as she used even her spare to time to prepare for her healing work with her grandmother. The two of you walked side by side, the day’s sun basking down its warmth on your retreating figures.

When you’d originally met up with Kiri earlier that morning, you had expected her to be her usual self — bright and excited to explore more of what Ewya offered her children. Instead, you had been met with a much angrier version of your sister-in-law.

Before you’d even started walking together, she was reciting her own morning back to you. Apparently, Lo’ak had believed it to be funny to scare Kiri whilst her back was turned away from him, causing the paste she was making to jump out of her hands and become ruined.

You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle out her crazy morning antics.

“And, then,” Kiri started, grumbling at her situation as she bent down to pluck a small part of a plant away, placing it delicately into her pouch, “father grounded me.”

You turn your head towards her, furrowed eyes on display, showing off your confusion. “What? Why?”

As Kiri stood back up, her anger dissipated and a smirk played on her lips. “Because I punched him in the face.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that completely tumbled from your mouth, loud and clear as any other creature within the forests. Grabbing at your stomach in an attempt to cease the laughing, your sister beside you only making your enthusiasm worse by joining in and exclaiming that he had it coming!, you felt elated, until your happiness turned into queasiness.

There was a split second where you knew what was going to happen before it actually did, but you weren’t given enough time to react. Your only option was to bend low, throwing up once again, although this time you had no idea where the contents had come from, considering you hadn’t eaten since last night and had already thrown up earlier that morning.

Coughing and clutching at your stomach, you felt Kiri’s gentle hand against your back, smoothly rubbing your skin to calm you down. Once you felt that was everything, you stood back up straighter, head groggy and eyes glazed over — you had never felt more worse in your life.

“Oh, y/n, you look terrible!” she chastised you, her eyes moving fervently over your figure, shaking her head in disbelief that you had gone from one emotion to another so drastically. “Is this the first time it’s happened?”

Breathing deeply, you shake your head. “No,” you swallow, pulling a disgusted face at the taste lingering in your mouth, before running a hand over your face from the exhaustion of it all. “It happened this morning, too.”

“And, you haven’t been to see grandmother?” Kiri’s voice was slowly beginning to raise, her obvious annoyance at your stubbornness beginning to effect her clearly. “Come, I will take you to her now.”

Immediately, you tried to refuse. “No, Kiri, I’m fine—“

But, your sister was relentless, adamant. “I’m not taking no for an answer, not when you could be ill.”

As she starts to pull you arm back in the direction of home, you look back over your shoulder at where you had reluctantly left the mark of your presence. “But, what about—“

“I will clean it up later. Come.”

From the moment you had arrived in the Tsahik’s tent, skin becoming clammy, sweat beading along your forehead and dry heaving into your hand, you were sure she knew what was wrong with you.

The woman who was like your own grandmother had gestured you closer to her awaiting figure, moving forwards and leaving Kiri hovering worriedly by the entrance to the tent. Mo’at gently grabbed your chin, looking so intently at you, all you wanted was to cower away, but you stood your ground, knowing the woman would only get annoyed.

When she was satisfied with what she saw, she gently grasped at your arms, guiding you down onto the floor in front of her. You started to feel just slightly better when you were no longer standing, swaying and feeling like you were going to fall any second. Mo’at moved back over to her shelves that held an assortment of healing herbs and ailments for those in need, coming back to you. She moved behind you, prodded at your back gently and pressing her ears against your spine, before moving back around and doing the same to your stomach.

You looked over at Kiri worriedly, hoping to find some sort of semblance hidden within her gaze, but her expression only mirrored your own. She, too, had no idea what was wrong with you — she was only training to be like her grandmother, and she clearly hadn’t gotten to this part of her lessons just yet.

“You are pregnant, my child.”

Your head snapped in her direction, not fast enough, those particular words reverberating within your mind, bouncing from one corner of the walls to another until you were sure you hadn’t imagined what the woman in front of you had said. You could feel your ears subconsciously fall against your head, your tail solemnly wrapping around your figure protectively, although, you were unsure what you were protecting yourself from.

You were pregnant.

Tears started to form within your eyes, pleading desperately within yourself to not let them fall. Your breathing started to pick up in pace a little, too, but you will it to calm. Looking down at your stomach, you placed a gentle hand against it, like you were caressing your unborn child.

Your unborn child.

You and Neteyam had had conversations about having a family — any pair of mates would — but your plans were to wait a little longer, to live your lives as you were supposed to before delving deeper into that chapter. It was all too much — you were unsure what to think. Should you be happy that you were having your firstborn child, or should you be worried of your mates reaction, scared he’d resent you for not waiting longer like you’d originally planned?

No words left your lips, throat too parched and nerves too calculated to form a barely coherent response, but you found that you didn’t have the time to. In that moment, Neteyam burst through his grandmother’s tent, eyes wide, ears alert and tail pointed tensely in the air. Someone had clearly seen you enter the Tsahik’s tent with Kiri, looking pale and unwell.

Looking up at him, you could only feel more tears consume your eyes until your vision started to become blurry. He rushed over to you, crouching down next to you, cupping your face in his hands and inspecting every inch of your body. When he couldn’t find anything external, he began to panic, confused. “What is it, ma muntxa (my mate)?”

Your eyes trailed both of his own, looking deeply into them and seeing nothing but pure love and adoration. From next to you, you could see Mo’at and Kiri silently leave the two of you alone in the quiet of the tent, giving you the space you needed.

Hands still stroking softly against your stomach, you looked down, then back up at him, hoping he would understand what you were trying to say without you having to utter the words. His eyes followed to where your hands lay, widening in surprise, his tail beginning to flick back and forth rhythmically.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, almost inaudible. A tear falls down your cheek, cascading to the bottom of your chin.

Neteyam continues to hold your face in his hands, eyes never once leaving your own as his thumb wipes your emotions away. A breathless laugh tumbles from his lips, smile wide and unable to disappear once it’s made its presence known. “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

Despite the loving features Neteyam was bearing only to you, you couldn’t help the guilt still continuing to eat away at you. “We didn’t plan for this,” you pause licking your lips in contemplation, “we were going to wait a little longer...”

“Listen to me,” Neteyam starts, voice firm. He shuffles closer to your figure, practically pulling you on top of him, leaving your face in the palms of his hands. “Sometimes plans change, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” One of his hands leaves your face to place it lovingly against your stomach. “Especially when the change involves something like this.”

You can’t look away from, too scared that if you do, he might suddenly change his mind. So, you don’t, and he doesn’t.

Your tears are now winning over, falling onto your face tumultuously, but this time, they’re happy tears, joyful tears. You laugh along with Neteyam, disbelieving to have been so lucky with this blessing from Ewya — both being Neteyam, and your unborn child.

He brings your faces together now, foreheads touching as he rubs your noses together. “I cannot wait to start this new life together with you, ma muntxa (my mate).” You nudge against his nose out of love, causing him to chuckle at your affections. “I will protect you both with my life — and I will care for you both, always.”

Placing a gentle kiss upon your lips, you feel his hands return to the flat of your stomach — this time, his thumbs are running smoothly against the skin there. When he pulls away from your face, you lean closer, desperate for more of him, but you feel your heart ache fondly when you watch him lower himself down, pressing such a feather-like kiss to your stomach that you barely feel it.

“I love you, ma’eveng (my child).”

[dkfile]

forgiveness (i would redo it all if i could)

❛ sure, the joy you exhibit is at his expense, but he can’t bring himself to care. jaemin would walk on burning hot coal if you asked him to. ❜

word count | 7.0k (7,009) genre | fluff with slight angst, humour, pining, idiots 2 lovers lol ━ fratboy!jaemin

the five times jaemin begs for forgiveness apologizes — and the one time you get a taste of your own medicine.

★ warnings | vomiting, humiliation (? not really but), alcohol consumption, and characters jumping to conclusions ★ author’s note | i wrote this instead of studying and it initially started as a drabble but the moment i finished the first part i realized i would just have to keep going. so i did. hope u enjoy this monster ❤️‍🩹

one.

The air reeks of hard liquor. You feel it stick to your skin the moment you step inside the frat house, trailing behind Lia as she zigzags her way through the crowd and into the kitchen. She’s a creature of habit, always following a routine, so it doesn’t surprise you when her first order of business is getting the both of you a drink.

Still, the vodka does nothing to contain your nerves. Bitterly, you eye Lia from the corner of your eye as she makes chit-chat with some friends from her Psychology class; she promised this party would put you out of your misery, but you have been here for all of three minutes and your misery has yet to be put out.

You had hoped — prayed — the trashy EDM and stench of sweat mixed with booze would have a quick effect on your aching heart, that it would snap you out of the wallowing you’ve been doing for the past two days, that it would make you forget about the 25 text messages and 10 missed calls you’ve left unanswered.

But, alas, here you are.

Lia makes quick movements out of the kitchen after spotting another friend of hers, gripping your wrists as if you’re a felon and her hands are the cuffs, and this frat, with its roaring partygoers and sticky floors, was your own personal prison. She casts a brief look over her shoulder, notices your expression has yet to change from the scowl you sported the moment you stepped outside, and eyes you with apologetic pity but does not loosen her grip on your limbs.

“Lia!”

She stops, quickly hides you behind her. You’re about to bite out a response before your face falls at the sound of the greeting that falls from Lia’s lips.

“Hi, Donghyuck.”

“Lia! How have you been?”

“Mm, great,” she replies, curt, but Donghyuck waves off her behaviour. He either doesn’t care about it or is too inebriated to do so — your guess is the former.

“How’d you do on that Psych test? Question three had me fucked up.”

“Kind of like how you are right now?”

Over Lia’s shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Donghyuck’s eye roll. “Ha ha, very funny,” he says before bringing a can of beer to his face. He gives it a shake, signifying that there’s still liquid in it. “I’m still on my first can.”

“That’s nice, Hyuck,” Lia sighs. “But I have to go, I’ll talk to you later? Chaewon needs me.”

“Oh, Chaewon! I haven’t seen her in forever. Where is she?”

Donghyuck begins to scan the room as Lia says, “Over by—” his eyes land on you peeking over Lia’s shoulder, “—the beer pong table.”

The excitement on his face falters, he blinks thrice, and as if snapped out of his reverie, his grin turns smug. Lia’s voice dies down as Donghyuck glances over to where a group of frat boys, rowdy and energetic (are they fighting for the title of life of the fucking party?) while he muses, “Haven’t seen you in a bit, Y/N.”

“I saw you last Friday,” you clear your throat when you hear the hoarse scratch in your voice. “Besides, I’ve been busy.”

Sarcastically, Donghyuck says, “Oh, I’m sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” he smiles, looking at you for a brief moment before returning his attention to his frat brothers. He makes eye contact with a boy, fading pink hair appearing orange under the lights, heavy eyelids opening fully at the sight of you. “It’s just weird, isn’t it, that I haven’t seen you since Friday?”

“Not… really?” you furrow your eyebrows. “We don’t have any classes together.”

He gives you a look. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

At the sound of quick footsteps, Lia glances to her side. At the sight of the very reason you’ve been holed up in your room the entire weekend, she tugs your wrists.

“We should go,” she says.

“Wha— why—?”

“Y/N!”

You jump far enough to release Lia’s hold on you. Donghyuck’s laugh is silenced by a stomp on his foot; the expletives he grunts at Lia goes through one of your ears and out the other — as people’s words often do when Na Jaemin enters your vicinity and punctures your comfortable little bubble.

He’s a sight for sore eyes — so, so beautiful, with his shirt half-tucked into his baggy jeans and a bajillion rings adorning his fingers. He gives you a smile laced with careful excitement, as if you are something to be cautious about, a ticking time bomb.

And suddenly, you’re transported back to Friday night, sitting in a restaurant in the fanciest getup you’ve stolen from one of your friends. Everything buzzes around you. You swear your senses have been heightened — you catch every pitiful glance, hear every sympathetic whisper, smell the desperation radiating off your chest.

Despite all of this, despite all your prayers for any sign of fortune, your phone screen stays black. Void of any texts or calls or even Instagram notifications.

The waiter, ever patient and remorseful, takes slow steps to your table. You take this as your sign to leave.

You ignore the first apology Jaemin sends eight hours later, and all the following others.

Over the noise, he shouts, “Can we talk?”

Your hands find Lia’s. “We need to go.”

Jaemin’s hands find yours. “Y/N.” He lets a drop of pathetic desperation taint his voice. “Please?”

“We have nothing to talk about,” you say.

“I’ll take five minutes.”

You don’t know what it is that gets you to give in. Maybe there’s a small part of you that wants to believe him. There’s a sliver of hope you cling to — like a child begging his parents for a new trinket while he stands in the toy section of a store — and it’s the reason for your downfall. It’s why you even said yes to him in the first place, sitting in the atrium of one of the science buildings as you both waited for the rainfall to stop.

Before you two had split ways, Jaemin had promised, “You won’t regret it.”

And yet…

Still, despite these broken agreements, you nod, allow him to take you to the porch despite Lia’s wariness and every voice in your head shouting at you not to.

He slides the glass door closed, muffling the noisiness of the party in the process. You shiver at the sudden gust of wind.

“Do you want a jacket?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Really? Mine’s only on the couch, it’s no trouble—”

“Jaemin, I’m fine,” you bite.

The venom is enough to get him to back off.

The silence that falls between the two of you only lasts a few moments. The alcohol has made Jaemin jittery and impatient, but he’s soft in the way he says, “I’m sorry.”

You huff, placing your cup of fruit punch on the porch. “What for?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Well... isn’t it obvious?”

You tilt your head, leaning over the railing as Jaemin centres his hip against it. He faces you, drenched in remorse, and you face away, engulfed in humiliation.

“I guess it is. But I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there on Friday,” he murmurs. In the corner of your eye, you see him inch closer, and your skin begins to tingle at the sensation — but then, with words sharpened with knives, he adds, “I’m sorry for standing you up.”

Shame washes over you like a pail of cold water on a hot summer’s day. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself, for him to admit it. But that doesn’t stop it from hurting any less.

“Okay.”

“Y/N,” he almost pleads. His hands twitch at his sides, begging to touch your shoulder, your face, your hands, anything. The vodka doesn’t mix well with his regret and he thinks he might vomit if he doesn’t find something to anchor himself back to Earth. The railing isn’t enough — he needs you.

But he has enough self-control to back off. He hurt you, he shouldn’t be allowed to touch you.

“You know, you flirted with me for four months,” you begin, voice wavering. “And I thought you were excited for the date. I mean, you looked excited.”

“I was.”

“Well, not enough to show up.”

“Y/N, come on—” he takes a step towards you, grips the railing a little harder. His stomach growls at him to stop moving. “Just let me explain. I just need a couple minutes, that’s all. And then you can decide whether you still want anything to do with me.”

You glare at him, though it’s not sharp enough to sting. “I’d rather not waste my time.”

“I’ll be quick. I promise.”

You stare, and while you do so, he uses the free time to try and decipher your expression. Futile.

“I think we should be having this conversation while you’re sober.”

“What are you talking about? I’m completely fine!”

A glance inside. Your eyes lock with Lia’s. “Sure. But you’re slurring your words, Jaem.”

Jaem. A nickname. That’s a good sign, right?

“I can make it through a conversation,” he promises. “Really. Just trust me.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk right now,” you tell him. “It’s— it’s just better for me if we do this when you’re in your right mind, okay? So can it wait?”

And then all fight leaves his body. He supposes he can wait another day for your forgiveness. 24 more hours can’t hurt.

“Okay,” he agrees softly.

You manage a smile and give him a nod before gesturing you’re going back inside. He murmurs that he’ll see you in a bit, despite the fact that he knows you and Lia will be making your way back to the dorms the moment the glass door slides open.

As you begin to walk away, Jaemin notices that you’ve left your cup on the railing. He grabs it, “Wait—” he says, lurching forward.

Oh. He definitely shouldn’t have done that.

A loud gasp falls from your lips. Jaemin stands to his full height, eyes wide with shock as he wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

You won’t look at him. You’re looking at your shoes and scrunching your nose at the rancid stench that begins to fill the night air.

Well. At least Jaemin’s stomach is feeling better.

two.

Flowers are fucking expensive.

Jaemin realizes this as soon as he leaves the flower shop Renjun works at (according to Renjun, Jaemin fucked up so bad he doesn’t even deserve a discount) but decides not to dwell on the dent in his bank account as he begins the trek to your dorm. He keeps an eye on the cloudy sky, murmuring pleas under his breath for it to not rain — the last thing he needs is for the bouquet he spent good money on to get soaked.

When he enters your building, his exhaustion replaced with nerves, he almost doesn’t notice the lively figure walking out of the elevator.

The way Liu Yangyang steps foot into the lobby, radiating all things bright and holy, is blinding. Jaemin resists the urge to flinch when Yangyang gives him a wide smile.

“Hey, Jaemin!” he greets, barely concealing his confusion at Jaemin’s suit and the big bouquet of flowers. “Do you have a date? At 10am on a Saturday?”

“Oh! No,” says Jaemin. “I’m apologizing.”

“Ah. I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“Oh, I’m not!” Jaemin corrects, plastering an embarrassed smile. “But, uh, I fucked up, so… it’s the least I could do. And, well, I wanted to do this, so—”

“Still. A bouquet this big is expensive,” Yangyang quirks an eyebrow, plucking the card out of the large array of flowers. His eyes scan the paper. And then again. And again. Jaemin wonders if Renjun’s pulled a prank on him and wrote something ghastly on it.

When Yangyang finally looks up, glancing from the card to the elevator, Jaemin asks, “What? What’s wrong? What does the card say? Fuck, did Renjun do something? I’m gonna kill—”

“No, the card’s fine,” Yangyang snorts, placing it back where he found it. “It’s just... you’re the guy, huh?”

“Sorry?”

“The one that stood Y/N up? The one that they were complaining about when I dropped by this morning?”

There is so much to unpack here. However, Jaemin can only manage a flabbergasted, “Wait, what?”

Yangyang laughs, gives Jaemin a pat on the back, then bids him a goodbye. He’s left the building before Jaemin can even think of a follow-up question, leaving him standing alone in the lobby, dress shirt haphazardly tucked into his pants, hair swept up from the wind, and his right hand limply gripping the flowers — the perfect picture of disaster.

It takes him a while to finally move, and when he does, a new unpleasant feeling sinks in his chest.

But then you open the door, and momentarily, the feeling disappears.

“Hi,” he says with a gentle smile. With two hands, he presents you with the bouquet, which you carefully take, eyes sparkling in awe.

You absentmindedly step to the side to let him in while your fingers carefully brush the flowers. “Jaemin, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t have to.”

“Well, I did,” he argues with no malice. He slips off his shoes and follows you to your desk, watching as you place the flowers in a vase, “so you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

He sees you roll your eyes. Still, you say, “Thank you.”

He beams. “You’re welcome.”

You lean against the back of your chair, folding your arms over your chest. Jaemin tries not to let your sudden indifference affect him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Sorry I threw up all over you last night,” he winces.

You wave him off. “It’s fine. Those shoes were worn out, anyway. I was looking for a reason to throw them out.”

“I’m sorry for Friday too.”

Jaemin notices you cave yourself in. Your gaze has hardened and the tension has made you stiff. Something much more painful than guilt sinks its claws into his beating heart.

He thinks, even if he were bleeding apologies, that it still wouldn’t be enough to deserve your forgiveness.

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “We’re fine now.”

“Okay… But are you sure?”

You blink.

Jaemin continues, “I really want to make it up to you.”

You move to lay against the headboard of your bed, playing with the controls of your alarm clock to avoid eye contact. “And you have.”

“I have?”

You take one long look at him, raise an eyebrow at the state of his outfit, before commenting — with your amusement thinly veiled behind the lingering hurt, “Oh, definitely.”

Everything in Jaemin malfunctions at the sound of your voice. The familiar mellow glee shakes him to his core. He leans against your desk chair, refusing to break eye contact despite your determination to not look at him for longer than five seconds.

He kicks the foot of your bed. Not hard enough to scare you, but enough to glance at him in annoyance. “I’m being serious,” he says. “I’ll humiliate myself if I have to. Do you want me to beg for forgiveness in front of everybody? I’ll do it. I can do it by the fountain at the centre of campus, or maybe the cafeteria. Or maybe at the next party—!”

“Jaemin.”

“I can do it at the coffee shop. Not the one near here, but the artsy one. I'm guaranteed to get a lot of judgemental stares there.”

“Jaemin,” you interrupt. You’re staring at him now, the alarm clock long forgotten. “You don’t need to do any of that. I mean, would it be funny? Yeah, definitely. But I want an explanation more than anything. That’s what you promised me last night, anyway — if you remember.”

Jaemin tries his best not to wince. He’d love to tell you the truth, really, but when he had relayed what happened to Renjun, he was met with a slap on the back of his head and different variations of “This is really embarrassing for you, man.” Last night, he was more than happy to explain the reason for his absence on Friday, but that was because there was alcohol in his system.

Could Jaemin humiliate himself in front of strangers and his friends? Sure, no problem. But you were a completely different story.

Every move he’s made, every decision he’s followed through, has been to impress you. He doesn’t know what he would do if he ever blew that up.

“Oh. Okay, well, you see…” Jaemin begins sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck. “That’s a funny story.”

You frown. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, Jaemin, but I don’t really wanna waste my time listening to excuses.” You turn to your side, taking interest in the alarm clock again as you grumble under your breath, “I’ve done enough of that already.”

The speed at which desperation consumes him is worrying. One minute he’s standing near your desk, the next he’s crouching to enter your field of vision. He’s next to your bedside table now, eyebrows furrowed and about two minutes away from begging.

“Okay, okay, no, you’re right,” he gulps. “Okay. It’s really embarrassing, though. It wasn’t my best moment.”

You don’t answer, instead giving him a look that urges him to continue.

“It’s dumb, alright, so don’t laugh,” he inhales. “A few hours before our date I went to the gym with Hyuck—” (Donghyuck had convinced him doing so would make him look so much better for the date) “—and I was exhausted. So, when we got back I… I fell asleep.”

“...What?”

“I took a nap,” he grumbles, more upset at himself than at your disbelief. “I was so tired and I didn’t want to go out with you if I was out of it, so I went to bed, and I thought I set an alarm for myself, but… I guess I didn’t. Next thing you know, I’m waking up at 1am, completely out of it, until Renjun barges into my room asking me how everything went.”

You stare blankly. “You… you fell asleep.”

He grimaces. He prepares himself for the brunt of your rage. It’s what he thinks he deserves — missing something he’s been wanting for months, looking forward to for days, all because he took a nap? He swears on heaven and Earth that he’s more mad at himself than you are at him.

But then you laugh.

It starts off as an incredulous snort before you start laughing in his face. And once he’s gotten over his initial shock at your reaction, Jaemin cracks a smile. Mostly because this is the first time he’s seen you happy since last week. He underestimated how much he missed all of this — sure, the joy you exhibit is at his expense, but he can’t bring himself to care. Jaemin would walk on burning hot coal if you asked him to.

Raindrops begin to land on your window as the sky becomes darker. Jaemin should be dreading the moment he has to step outside and walk back to the frat.

(But…)

“You’re not lying?” you guffaw. “You’re completely serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Jaemin deadpans.

You burst into another fit of giggles.

(He thinks the sight of your smile just made his entire week.)

(He says so to Donghyuck when he gets home and is asked why he’s soaking wet and giddy. To which Donghyuck replies with a roll of his eyes and, “Jaemin, you are so fucking whipped.”)

three.

There are many things Donghyuck has seen Jaemin do in the name of love.

But this? This is definitely going at the top of the list of the worst things he’s ever done.

The act itself is mild. If Donghyuck was told about this then he wouldn’t even consider putting this in the top 10. But he isn’t the recipient of a storytime. Instead, he’s with Jaemin, standing with him at a supermarket thirty minutes after closing in his Kuromi pajamas.

Tonight, Jaemin isn’t only embarrassing himself, but he’s dragging Donghyuck along with him.

“Please,” Jaemin begs the tired employee on the other side of the locked doors. “I just need one thing.”

The employee locks eyes with Donghyuck. Donghyuck wants to crawl into a hole and die.

The catalyst of this impromptu trip to the grocery store is you. More specifically, what you posted on your close friends story. You had been baking but realized you don’t have any more baking soda, so Jaemin took it upon himself to drive to the store and get some for you.

You didn’t even ask him to.

“Don’t we have baking soda at home?” Donghyuck hisses under his breath, grabbing Jaemin’s elbow while the 16-year-old employee explains for the nth time, “No, sir, I can’t unlock this door. Like, I literally can’t. I don’t have the code.”

“No,” Jaemin snatches his elbow back. Donghyuck wonders how they both look, standing in their matching Melody and Kuromi pajamas in the middle of the night. “Jeno and Mark used all of it up, remember? For some bake sale.”

“I think they were raising money for the frat, Jaemin.”

“Oh, fuck the frat.”

Donghyuck snorts. “Dude.”

“What?”

Donghyuck throws his arms up in defence before tugging Jaemin towards the parking lot. He waves apologetically to the employee, who only shakes her head in response, and ignores Jaemin’s whining and thrashing as they make their way to his car.

“Okay,” Donghyuck says firmly, crossing his arms. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, sure. It’s not like you’ve been moody for the past few days or anything.”

Jaemin throws him an irritated look. Then he runs a hand over his face and through his hair. “Sorry.”

Donghyuck waves a hand of dismissal. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I fucked up big time,” Jaemin sighs. “With Y/N.”

“Again?”

“What? No! Do you have no faith in me?” At Donghyuck’s silence, Jaemin kicks his shoe. “No, it’s just… I don’t know. I have no idea what it’s gonna take for them to give me another chance.”

“Didn’t they forgive you already?”

“Yeah, but… you know.”

He doesn’t. You and Donghyuck are more so acquaintances than friends, but even if that wasn’t the case, he thinks nobody in this world could ever know you as well as Jaemin does.

Plus, he’s pretty sure Jaemin’s just making excuses not to put himself out there again.

So, Donghyuck asks, “Have you asked them out again?”

“Well…”

“You can’t be serious.”

“You don’t understand!” Jaemin groans. “I’m scared!”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and starts typing a number into his phone. Jaemin is too busy listing off reasons on why you’d reject him to notice, and only stops his rambling when a groggy voice echoes off the speakerphone.

“Hello?”

Jaemin blinks, confused. “Y/N?”

“Jaemin?” you say, suddenly awake. Donghyuck places his phone in Jaemin’s hands and enters the car to give you two some privacy. “Why are you calling me from Hyuck’s phone?”

“Oh, I…” Jaemin starts, “My phone’s dead.”

“Oh,” you say. Jaemin presses the phone to his ear and closes his eyes as he leans against the hood of the car. “Why’d you call?”

“I, uh…” Jaemin murmurs, “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

If he was being honest, Jaemin’s surprised you forgave him so quickly. He thought he would have to grovel a little more, suffer for a few more days, before you finally flashed him a smile and a murmur of “It’s okay.” He asked you about this last night, his curiosity peaking past midnight with the only source of light in his bedroom being the blue light from his phone.

From: Y/N

I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever lied to me?

Unless you did. If you did, you are so done for, Jaem.

To: Y/N

I didn’t! I swear to God I didn’t

From: Y/N

Yeah, I figured

I’m messing with you lol

I trust you

Maybe this means he has a chance. He considers shooting his shot right then and there, but then he glances at the sky, figures now is not the right time. You deserve so much more than a hesitant question whispered into his best friend’s phone, the stars hidden behind a large blanket of clouds.

“I… I couldn’t get you the baking soda.”

A pause. “Oh?”

“Yeah. The store’s closed.”

“Oh,” you whisper with a little more understanding. Softly, you reply, “That’s okay, Jaem.”

four.

For the past few days, Jaemin’s hands have been finding you.

It’s in gentle touches. He pats your shoulder before bidding goodbye, picks off a piece of lint in your hair before flicking it away, brushes your skin with his every time he gives you a gift. Every touch is accompanied with a smile — lambent albeit unsure — and every smile is accompanied with a soft call of your name.

The next time he touches you is when he hands you a bag. It isn’t heavy, but when you peek inside, you frown.

“What is this?” you ask.

He flashes you his signature grin. “What does it look like? They’re shoes.”

His retort is met with silence. Jaemin is left to listen to the bustling of the hallway as you stare at the relatively new sneakers he’s handed you. His grin wavers, ever so slightly, though it really shouldn’t matter because it goes unnoticed.

“I can see that,” you mutter. “But why?”

“Consider it an apology. It’s the least I could do after I… you know…”

“Threw up on me?”

Jaemin huffs. “Yeah.”

You clear your throat, pushing the shoes into his chest. “I don’t think I should take this.”

“What? Why not?”

You shrug, resting the handles of the grey plastic bag on his fingertips before walking around him to head to the exit. He’s quick to follow, barely dodging lingering professors and boisterous students that obscure his path. You don’t bother to slow down, eyeing the time on your wrist with a frown. Fuck, you were supposed to be at the mall five minutes ago.

You glance over your shoulder to see if Jaemin’s still lagging behind you. “It’s nice and all, but I don’t think you ruining my sneakers meant you had to buy me new ones as an apology.”

“I disagree. Besides, I didn’t even buy them! I stole them—!” You halt, causing Jaemin to crash into you. The both of you stagger, struggling to regain your composure. He coughs, muttering an apology before adding, “—from Renjun’s closet.”

“What the hell!” you exclaim. “Why didn’t you say that sooner! I thought you were a felon.”

Jaemin gasps incredulously, ignoring the odd gazes thrown in his direction. “How dare you. You know I don’t have the mental capacity to plan a successful heist. Too tiring,” he tilts his head, “You gotta admit, though, I’d look very good on a wanted poster.”

Silence. You continue walking to the student parking lot.

Another gasp, and then— “Hey, wait, don’t just walk away. Are you disagreeing with me?” An overdramatic whine falls from Jaemin’s lips. You are no match for your own mirth. It doesn’t waver, no matter how much you try to fight the smile that threatens to split your face apart. “Are you calling me ugly?”

“Way to jump to conclusions,” you quip.

His hand clasps around yours, stopping your movements. “You’re not denying it!”

A laugh, caged too long in your chest, escapes. It dances in the air, free. “You’re definitely not ugly, Jaemin. The very opposite, actually,” you pause, “But no matter how much you pout and whine, I will not be taking these shoes.”

“But I stole them just for you!”

(A passerby mutters a “What?” to her friend).

“Yes, it’s very Robin Hood of you to do this for me,” you agree, briefly placing two hands on his cheeks and ignoring the way his skin begins to warm. “But what if Renjun finds out? You know he scares me!”

“Pfft. Renjun would never hurt you.”

Your hands fall from his face and back to your sides. He immediately craves your touch again, even though he’s certain it’ll burn his skin. “I’m not taking these. But thank you,” you give him a smile, a much tamer one this time, but it makes his heart stutter all the same. “Really, Jaemin. I appreciate it.”

I appreciate you, you almost say. From the way Jaemin’s eyes flicker to your lips, you wonder if he knows you almost did.

“I—”

“Y/N! You slowpoke! Hurry up!”

Jaemin snaps his head to the direction of the voice. His lips part at the sight of Yangyang trudging across the quad, hands tucked into his pockets. Despite Yangyang’s impatient words, he’s grinning.

What’s worse, Jaemin thinks, is that you are, too.

You give Jaemin one last look before waving. Before you leave, you promise something. He isn’t quite sure what — maybe you’ll text him tonight, see him tomorrow, email him the answers to the Chemistry practice tests later. Nothing you say can sway Jaemin’s focus from Yangyang’s arm, resting on your shoulder as he drags you towards his car.

A hand reaches into Jaemin’s chest, squeezes his heart.

He tries not to think too much of it.

five.

There are three things needed to spark a wildfire. Oxygen, fuel, and ignition.

Jaemin finds himself in an unfamiliar apartment on Saturday night, glued to Renjun’s side, as his friend drifts across the space like a butterfly soaring through the sky. Tonight is supposed to be carefree, a distraction from looming final exams, but Jaemin can’t help but feel a heavy weight in his pockets. His texts, sent 12 hours ago, are yet to be met with a response, and he’s getting fidgety. So much so that it’s hindering his chance of a good time.

Renjun tries his best to ignore him but all attempts end up futile. Once an acquaintance excuses himself to go to the restroom, Renjun nudges Jaemin and hisses (although he does it in a way that comes off as benign), “Can you stop acting like you’ve got ants crawling up your ass? Y/N will get back to you soon enough. Maybe they’re busy.”

Jaemin sighs, clenches his fist, then nods. “Yeah. Right. Sorry.”

Renjun looks at him sympathetically. “It’s okay. Just don’t stress.”

He manages to distract himself for a couple more minutes, engaging in conversations despite his dying social battery, and plasters a smile that he hopes Renjun deems decent enough.

This get-together is far different from any of the parties the frat has thrown, but its unfamiliarity tames the waves of worry clouding Jaemin’s brain, if only for a moment.

Everything in him comes alive, though, when the door swings open and a call of your name hangs in the air.

He’s plunged into a pool of relief at the sight of you. It’s almost as if the air has been knocked out of his lungs.

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

Oxygen.

He lazily mutters an excuse to Renjun and another acquaintance before walking towards the door. This conversation is the least of his worries especially when you’re standing in the doorway, radiant as ever.

When you spot him, he swears your eyes light up.

“Hey!” you greet, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Renjun dragged me here,” Jaemin tries his best to appear nonchalant, though the only person he appears to be fooling is himself, “he said I needed a change of scenery.”

“Well, I’m glad he did.”

Something akin to hope settles in the pit of his stomach. “You are?”

You hum. “Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love these get-togethers, but you make things a little more memorable.”

He grins. He can’t help it. “Just a little?”

“Alright,” you snort. “Don’t push it.”

A buzz. You take your phone out and, at the sight of the notification, your mood dampens — only slightly, but Jaemin notices nonetheless.

“Oh, by the way, did you get my texts?”

“Huh?” you glance up. “Oh. Maybe? Sorry, I’ve been so out of it. You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

“Ah. And here I thought you were ignoring me,” he says it in a way that’s insouciant, but you don’t miss the tension slowly easing out of his shoulders.

“I would never.”

“I mean, you did a few weeks ago.”

You hit his arm playfully. “Okay, well, you deserved that.” You tuck your phone back into your pocket. “I’m really sorry, though. I didn’t mean to screen you. What’d you send, anyway?”

“Nothing important,” he says. Really, it had just been a couple tweets he thought you would find funny. “How was your day?”

Before you can respond, someone enters, heaving. Yangyang, dressed head to toe in black, huffs out a breath as he slips off his dress shoes. He walks over to you, almost slipping when his socked feet meet tile, but he manages to save himself as he hands you a wallet.

Something feels off.

Fuel.

“Holy fuck,” Yangyang exhales tiredly. “You would not believe the kind of shit I had to go through to get that back. You owe me big time— oh! Hey, Jaemin!”

“Hi,” Jaemin replies, eyes flickering between you and Yangyang. It’s at that moment he clocks that the two of you are matching, both in flushed cheeks and attire. Suddenly, Jaemin feels underdressed in his grey hoodie and light-washed jeans. “Uh, you guys look nice.”

“Oh, thanks!” says Yangyang. Then he scans the other people in the apartment. “Wait, what the hell? I thought Lia said to dress formally!”

He gives neither you nor Jaemin time to reply. He’s already off, mingling with others as he hunts Lia down, presumably to question her about the dress code, leaving you and Jaemin in the dust.

You don’t say anything in Yangyang’s absence, so Jaemin decides he’ll bite.

“Why did he have your wallet?”

Your mood has changed. You scratch your neck nervously and give him a smile he can’t quite decipher. This one is different than the usual ones you give him. Is it— tinted with shame?

“Oh,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. Slowly but surely, the tension that was once in Jaemin’s body enters yours. “Funny story.”

Jaemin tries his best to sound lighthearted. “From the way you look it doesn’t seem like a funny story.”

“Got me there,” you chuckle, devoid of hilarity. “It’s— well, I was on a date—”

Oh. That’s why you never responded to him.

Yangyang, always impeccable with his timing, appears in Jaemin’s line of sight again. He isn’t quite sure what Yangyang says — something about the dress code, he assumes. But what he is sure of is Yangyang’s hand around your wrist, dragging you deep into the crevices of the apartment, away from Jaemin.

It all makes sense now. Yangyang dropping by your apartment, Yangyang’s arm over your shoulder, Yangyang arriving the same time as you at a gathering Jaemin didn’t even want to be at.

Any and all hope flies out the window, dissolving in the acidity of his heartbreak.

He pulls out his phone, texts you again, only this one is more formal than the rest.

To: Y/N

Had to go. Sorry we couldn’t talk more. I’ll see you.

He waits a couple minutes but never receives a reply.

Ignition.

Everything in him begins to burn.

one.

It rains on Sunday.

Jaemin finds himself sitting just under the lip of the roof, watching as rainfall creates puddles in the miniature pits in the backyard. The humidity allows for sweat to adhere his clothes to his skin; it’s an unpleasant feeling, one he’s too lazy to fix by getting up and going back inside, so he’s grateful for the sudden breeze that causes him to shiver.

A jacket is suddenly draped over his shoulders. A figure takes a seat beside him.

“What are you doing out here?”

Your presence only adds to the warmth he’s already feeling.

“Oh, you know…” Jaemin murmurs as you make yourself comfortable on the porch, “wallowing.”

“Ah,” you hum. “As one does.”

“As one does,” he repeats.

You let a few raindrops land on your shoes before you ask, “Am I allowed to ask why?”

He kicks a pebble under his feet. “I don’t know. I just feel weird, I guess? I can’t explain it.”

Lie. He knows exactly why he feels under the weather, and from the way your eyes don’t leave his face, you know he’s lying, too.

“Do you feel better than you did yesterday?”

“Hm?”

“Renjun let me in,” you explain, “I asked him what happened to you last night and he said you just weren’t feeling it, so…”

He nods slowly. “Oh! Uh — yeah. Yeah.”

He clears his throat awkwardly. In the corner of his eye, he sees you raise an eyebrow and turn your head towards the backyard, watching as the rain becomes more aggressive, rapidly pattering against any surface it finds, staining the trees and the ground and the wood of the porch.

Inside, he can hear soft murmurs between his frat brothers. There is the occasional laugh and loud outburst, and it tugs on his heartstrings. It’s much happier inside than it is out here — here, Jaemin’s sulking and brokenhearted and you’re next to him, hiding under the blanket of his heartache.

“How’s Yangyang?” he questions before he can stop himself.

You try your best to hide your surprise. “Uh, he’s fine? I haven’t spoken to him at all today.”

“And your date?”

Your eyes light up. Game over, Jaemin thinks as you turn your body to face him, excitement making the rain falter. “Oh, yeah, I was gonna tell you about it last night!” Jaemin sucks in a breath, “It was awful.”

He blinks. “Huh?”

“Yeah, remind me to never listen to Yangyang ever again,” you snicker with a shake of your head. “He’d been bothering me for months about how I’m, apparently, chronically single. And he thought the only way to fix that was to set me up with a stranger from his Microbio class.”

Jaemin’s moved to look at you dead in the eye now, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as he tries to process all the information you’ve just spewed out. “Wait, I’m sorry, what?”

You misinterpret his confusion for incredulity. “Right! But I went along with it, which I really shouldn’t have — I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you about it before I went, but it completely slipped my mind. I guess karma got me back, though, ‘cause the guy was terrible — he was so boring, Jaem. So I went to the bathroom to text Yangyang to pick me up, but I was stupid enough to leave my bag at the table. The guy stole my fucking wallet, so I had to—”

“Wait,” Jaemin interrupts, jaw slack. “So you weren’t on a date with Yangyang?”

You scrunch your nose up in disgust. “No. What?”

Jaemin doesn’t reply.

“Jaemin—”

“Never mind.”

You stare at him as he repositions himself to face the backyard again. The both of you hear more clamor in the kitchen, but it’s all drowned out by the laugh that escapes your mouth.

He lasts about ten seconds avoiding your eye contact — at the sound of your amusement, Jaemin whips his head to look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, covering your mouth with a hand. “I’m so sorry. That’s not — okay, well, it’s a little funny.”

“Alright, I get it,” Jaemin grumbles, though he softens when you lean on his shoulder for support.

“Why the hell would you think that?”

Jaemin shrugs the shoulder you’re not leaning against. “You two were always together, and then you guys showed up at the party at the same time wearing matching outfits, so my mind was like—”

“‘Yangyang and Y/N are dating. Only explanation,’” you finish for him with a snort. “That was just a coincidence. Yangyang and I are friends, Jaemin. I thought you, of all people, would assume that.”

He nudges you. “What’s that mean?”

You nudge him back. “I mean, I thought it was already established that I like you.”

At his silence, you click your tongue.

“I wouldn’t have said yes to a date with you if I didn’t like you, Jaemin.”

“Yeah, but…” he huffs, eyeing the clouds as the raindrops become infrequent and the sky turns a little brighter. “I thought you would’ve given up on me.”

You place a hand over your heart, frowning. “Wow. You think that low of me?”

“No, absolutely not—!”

You squeeze his shoulder with a gentle smile. “Jaemin, I was joking.”

Jaemin sighs in relief, leaning into your touch. “I’m gonna make up for that date, you know.”

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you assure him, “You already have.”

“No, not with flowers and stolen shoes — with dinner,” he pauses, turning his face to meet your eyes. As the sky grows lighter, the red on his cheeks becomes more evident, “if you’ll let me.”

“Will you actually show up this time?” you ask, teasing.

He laughs with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll be there before you even show up.”

When you leave the frat house that night, swollen lips and sweat prickling at your skin, you bump into Lia on her way to class. She asks suspiciously why you’re grinning like a madman — there is no reason for anybody to be smiling this much when it’s this humid outside.

At the mention of Jaemin’s name, Lia softens in understanding. She pats your cheek the same way a mother would nurture her child before saying, “I swear that boy is gonna be the death of you.”

You shrug. You can’t bring yourself to care.

© all rights reserved, dkfile 2023

[richeeduvie]

Can someone please explain to me the whole baby thing? And dog bone au? And all these aus im so confused

DOG AND BONE!AU BASICS

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

This is asked every five months and I'm happy to explain it each time! I'll put it in the pinned post! This is a long one so sorry yall

So Dog and Bone is the title to the AU for a self-insert x Roman Roy fic compilation. There's no actual series yet…sorry, I know! How long has it been? But these fics range from entire one-shots that center around a plot that can lead into another one-shot/drabble, with the content of said piece becoming important to the whole AU, to just cute, fluffy or smutty drabbles and blurbs. Most of them are based on requests. Your request could become a big part of Dog and Bone!

BABY

Baby is the name for the self-insert. Fics will flip from a second person to third person POV, so you'll see her referred to as 'Baby' a lot. I don't consider her an OC because there's no and will never be a physical description of her and to be honest, I only started to referred to her as Baby so I could write third person POV fics when I'm lazy and don't want to go heavy in internal monologue, which is what I do for second person POV fics. I never use 'Y/N' for her or any self-insert. But many see her as other people and not themselves and I love that too!

Personality-wise, you'll find her to Roman's soulmate. Although she is still a victim of being out-of-touch due to her wealth, she's managed to be kind and respectful and just something that Roys don't have outside of her. She's the ultimate nepo baby with Logan just giving her some vague career path at Waystar to keep her around. She mostly works in marketing and spends her days with Tom and Greg. So, the story of DAB (lol). Baby is the childhood best friend of Roman (and Shiv). In the AU, Baby's biological father was Logan's best friend and business associate. She met the Roy family when she was five and when Roman when almost seven. She was meant to be the best friend of Shiv, but Roman stole her one day when Shiv when to get more toys and baby Baby was on the swings. His sister is still pissed about this to this day.

Nothing much has been mentioned of Baby's bio dad just yet, but it was a one-time thing (so understandable is yall don't remember) that we see Logan giving Baby the medal her father gave him after his funeral. He's dead and apparently fought in a war, or maybe just liked collecting medals as much as Logan did.

So, facts about the dead dad:

Maybe was a veteran

Was hinted to have given Baby an eating disorder

Died when she was eight

Possibly kept her away from her mother

Logan's her godfather, but it was Frank to take her in after her dad had passed. Frank ON TOP!!!! PAPA FRANK!!! Baby's mother is very distant and she's really only seen her for a few holidays throughout her childhood. I've always imagined her to be those wealthy hippies feigning spirituality and did maybe try to get Baby in terms of custody, but didn't try a lot - not even after Baby's father died. So, Baby gets to stay with the Roys with Frank being her guardian. With this, it's just co-dependency and possessiveness growing.

Roman and Baby don't really have friends outside of each other. They do everything together and eventually start doing relationship sort of things together. They take each others virginities. Roman gets panicky and painful in the muscles if Baby has to leave him for more than three days. It's great, but nothing's official.

They live this way until Roman gets with Tabitha.

Now, you may be thinking 'Why does he begin a relationship with Tabitha if he's so possessive and seemingly satisfied with the situation he has with Baby?' Well, I have two fics that'll help you to explain Roman's stupidity:

Why Does Rome Still Date Tabitha (They Don’t Have Sex, but Still) Kendall Wins!AU Confession

The latter of the two is a bit more personal and truthful for Roman. It can be noted that as much as I am a GerriRoman supporter, their relationship does not happen in the DogandBone!AU. Only because one, frankly, I don't know how to or have the desire to thread it throughout the story because I already kept Tabitha's plotline…which is Roman's downfall. You will see. And two, you'll find that Roman and all of the Roys, really, have a lot of themselves changed all because they have one genuine friend that's cared and loved them since childhood so that big part of Roman's plotless plot-time in canon is gone here. Grace didn't happen as well because Jesse Armstrong said so lol.

As I said, the genuine friend line applies to all of the Roys (excluding Logan, except for his AU…), but it really applies to Kendall. Going back to the point where Baby and Roman are fourteen/fifteen and fifteen/sixteen, he gets sent away to military school. I made it so he's only there for two years to which Logan just doesn't care to send him there anymore because I want Baby and Roman teenage puppy and needy love for as much as I can get it. During this time, Kendall has this belief, this kindness to take in Baby when she's at her loneliest.

and…so…Kendall and Baby's whole thing?

The link above sums up their whole situation but I'll elaborate a bit more here because there's Tern Haven. Tern Haven happens in the OG!DogandBone!AU and KendallWins!AU, the grooming situation happens in every AU.

Of course, Roman comes back and Baby sobers up for the most part and leaves groomer Kendall's ass in the dust! It's when Roman starts dating Tabitha decades later that Kendall, who never actually made a move on Baby, brings hell and tragedy to the family. Baby's not so keen on continuing to have sex and the weird thing she has with Roman as he is with Tabitha around, so she becomes lonely and thoughtful in the need to reconnect with friends, maybe start dating herself. She's there during Tern Haven and can't go to Roman's room to hang out, Tabitha's there. She doesn't bother Shiv and Tom, she could talk with Frank, maybe? Maybe, but she makes her way to Kendall's room.

And whatever high horse Kendall put himself on for not doing anything with Baby, maybe not being in love with her - or at least having no awareness about it, whatever was starting with Naomi, it's gone when Baby enters that room.

Again, Tern Haven happens in Kendallwins!AU and the OG!AU. The only difference is that after, Roman is either successful in pulling Baby away from Kendall, or he isn't. This is where it can get confusing as it can with all the AUs because there's so many little splices of moments within content that really helps you understand how things happen but I can say that the Kendallwins!AU is just sad, scary, and dark.

But enough of that!

OG!DOGANDBONE!AU

After Roman's successful in getting Kendall away from Baby, he immediately breaks up with Tabitha and they heal from what happened. Kendall declines quickly during this. Logan dies and they get married after the GoJo sale. They have Baby Jr. On occasion, we'll have fun and write them having two more kids, Baby Jr Jr and Roman Jr, but they aren't canon - or they at least would get a canon fic like Baby

FICS TO HELP: Romulus Sneakers | Dad Frank feat. Baby Roman Call Them Brothers Back in Town Bone and Her Heart Roman’s a Friend Stealer While you were sleeping Touch Me (I'm Sick) Date Death | Part One Date Death Part 2 Babied (He Loves It) Violet, Blue, Green, Red To Keep Me Out Phone Call Home Baby Baby in “I went to Market” Baby in ‘Too Much Birthday’ After the GoJo Sale Telling Roman She's Pregnant

BABY JR

Baby Jr is an unrealistically perfect angel of a child that belongs to Roman and Baby in their AU and was born a preemie with a slew of health problems, but because I love her so much, it's becoming a running joke for her to just exist in every AU, somehow. if Baby's there, Baby Jr's there. She's named fittingly. You'll see her a lot in smaller blurbs and fics. Another running joke is that she hates Kendall in every AU, though she's barely mentioned outside of the OG! and Loganwins!AU.

JUST MY FAVORITE BABY JR FICS:

Baby Baby's First and Last Day at School Bear Baby Jr! Baby Jr Doing Something Dangerous Connor Taking Baby Jr Fishing Baby Jr seeing Baby Roman with Glasses

VARIATIONS OF THE OG!AU

They aren't mentioned a lot anymore because we don't get so serious about them and it was more just to have fun with the story, but the OG!AU does have some variations to how the plot goes. You have Baby and Roman having Baby Jr before season one where Tabitha and Tern Haven are things that obviously never happened:

If Roman Knocked Baby Up Logan Bullying Baby Jr YoungBornBabyJr!AU With Roman Forcing Baby to Marry Him Roman Drunk and Loving If Roman Knocked Baby Up in Their 20s If Baby Jr was Little in The Pilot Logan’s Baby Jr Favoritism Where’s Your Daughter?

Then, you have Baby dying and Roman killing himself to leave Baby Jr an orphan: Come Time, Baby Jr Missing Mommy.

Or you have Baby AND Baby Jr dying to leave Roman killing himself after his last moments of suffering…which, I can't find, but do we really want to read that?

If you don't want to suffer, it can end simply as a nightmare Roman had in the night. Here's another Nightmare Blurb.

LOGANWINS!AU

Listen. I CANNOT be the only person who has consistently written for Logan. I CANNOT! But I do and Baby is unfortunately the victim of a joke turned into a horniness for an old, old man.

Logan doesn't actually have a fic establishing the Loganwins!AU. Everything that's longer than a blurb are moments that already take place after they've gotten together. Tern Haven does not take place here because it appears that this…intimate relationship takes place before season one. Roman doesn't get together with Tabitha in this AU because he's really fucked up about his soulmate having sex and marriage with his…Dad. His abusive Dad. Baby Jr does exist here! This started as a joke to get people grossed out over old man Logan cock, I played it so I was DISGUSTED to appease any requests that were sent in. I really was. I don't know what happened. But a lot of what is written expands past Logan x Reader and more about the AU itself, which happens with Kendallwins! and the OG!AU too.

FICS TO HELP: THE OFFICE CONFRONTATION Mondale The Second Baseball Sick Baby Jr Mom(my) Siblings and Baby Jr Buzz off! Sister Shiv Recital Alone Baby Jr How Does The Relationship Begin? How Does Logan Propose? Are Baby and Roman Still Close? Pregnancy Announcement in the AU They Bought a Cat Who's Baby Jr's Godfather? Panty Stealer Roman's Twitter Argument

You guys are lucky I can't find the smut fic I wrote. But it's here on this blog. Somewhere.

Nvm here it is my bad: Reflections.

AFFAIR!AU

There's the Loganwins!AU, then there's the Affair!AU, which was established pretty recently. It's where Baby begins an affair with Roman while she's married to Logan and Baby Jr ends up being Roman's daughter, not his little sister. As much as I have accepted my great enjoyment in indulging the Logan lovers, I do think this is Baby at her most Succession.

She gets the benefits of being Logan's wife and his favorite wife, a cute daughter, Roman at her heel, whining for her to really be with him but knowing he'll never leave her at her denial. She's horrible, a whore. A baddie winning.

FICS TO HELP: Baby Jr being Roman's Daughter Roman and Newborn Baby Jr Baby in the Affair!AU Roman revealing she's his to his siblings "Dada" A Slight Confrontation How does it start? In Dad's Bed

GROOMING SITUATION (OG!AU and KENDALLWINS!AU)

So, I explained most of it above, but these are the fics to help understand just how messed up DogandBone!Kendall is. He's a different man, guys.

(Also Stewy was there. Stewy was her friend. A flawed twenty-something year old who didn't care enough to separate himself from Kendall when noticing the red flags of him and Baby, but he denied, denied, denied. But he also gave Baby some sense of being…ya know, a kid…cause he saw her as a CHILD)

Tern Haven:

Tern Haven EXTENDED TERN HAVEN More of Tern Haven (…Yay…)

Ken's Groomer Era:

Sleepover Drugged Up Heart Does Baby go Clubbing With Kendall? The Birthday (Big One) Kendall being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous More of Ken being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous Sleepover 2 Kendall's Birthday Gifts....

The Aftermath:

Smacktalking During Too Much Birthday Bad Bit

There's more, of course. There's always more.

KENDALLWINS!AU

After Tern Haven, Kendall has Baby. He's won Baby. He gets more addicted to drugs while making her dependent on them. He turns her into nothing - and just for him. He's scary and paranoid when it comes to Roman. A variation of the AU would be the Babydies!AU, where she accidently overdoses after he leaves her alone. It's a lot. This is not a fun AU, guys. But I like to write it!

FICS TO HELP:

Housewife Thing Waystar Press Conference Accusing Baby Jr of Not Being His Roman Trying to Get Baby Back From Kendall A Slight, Brotherly Confrontation Daily Does of Horror (Heroin) Mention of Heroin Handsy Baby and Kendall and Pills Panty Stealer Brother Roman's Dick Pics Saying Roman's Name Flower Delivery

THE OD FICS:

No Time Needled Memories

NOW....

SHIV'S AU

Shiv's AU isn't even a win!AU, technically. We haven't really dabbled in the idea of her winning. Just more of her yearning, but all in all, this woman wants Baby soooo badly. Too sad she has the guilt of being a woman. And her father. And Tom. And the denial hot on her skin.

Calling Shiv Shiv

TOM'S AU

Apparently the man can get obsessed and they haven't even kissed in his AU, yet. Fitting considering the shit he pulls with Greg. It's Baby at her most guilty due to her friendship with Shiv.

KARL'S AU

No.

STEWY'S AU

I give crumbs and only crumbs. But we're getting something started with Wedding Bells (Part One)!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

I hope this helps! xoxo

[flos-obsessivus]

Been thinking over how Lilian seems like the type of person to be so used to being the one constantly having heart eyes and worship embedded into his fingertips that when the moment MC does it to him, it’s just, well he passes out naturally lol.

But I imagine it’s pretty overwhelming the first few quiet moments when MC rests near him, Idle conversations to fill in the silence of the cold tower before his advisors gaze fell onto him. He wasn’t sure what he was talking about now that he recalls it, but he does remember just watching them slowly lean close.

Maybe he wonders if this is when they’d finally kiss, So maybe he waits anxiously as their hands move up to rest alongside the jawline of his face. Their eyes focused on him he can tell, MC admired the color of his eyes, the shape of his lips and the lines on his face and then smile. Then thats probs when he passes out 🤷

IM NOT SURE IF I WORDED IT CORRECTLY SO PARDON ME IF THIS WAS CONFUSING TOT But you know those moments when a person is just looking at you? And then randomly smiling? I imagine it’s a great warm feeling for Lilian to think that Mc just looked at his face and thought about something nice, nice enough to make them smile. Just something, something about admiring him genuinely. I say this as an artist cause I’d study his face so much if he were real ANYHOW just a sweet fluff thought i thought about ;-;

Awe poor baby! He'd be so ecstatic to finally being able to kiss you but then it's all black. He would think of it as a dream but your presence next to him as he wakes up makes him reconsider. You who reciprocates his adoration is a big deal to him, his gift whom he has loved for as long as he can remember.

He gets shy and squirmy under your watchful eyes that a red flush would take over his whole face. Your smile always brightens his day and it's harder to breathe when you do, evident by his breathy voice when asking you what you're doing. Your nonchalant response does nothing but fluster him. Soft moments like these makes him forget that he's a prince, that he has a title to uphold, that he lives a different life compared to you.

Moments like these makes him wish he is able to stop time and live here for eternity, in bliss, like a dream.

I have basically turned your drabble into the same thing but different somehow, sorry about that haha! I do adore this though, I usually prefer one sided pining but I do admit that fluff also gets me at times.

[daquila]

MASTERLIST!

[ if it’s not obvious, i really like gojo ]

-> Lost in The Sea of Stars ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| about you both being researchers in a post-apocalyptic society! my first fic so it’s quite rough

-> Happy Birthday, ‘Toru ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| silly fic about you painting a surprise for gojo! megumi, yuji, and nobara help you complete the work.

-> My Heart’s Delusions ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| angst and references to toru being a bad boyfriend when reader was in highschool

-> Long Days at Work ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| just reader being stressed about jujutsu life— nothing else!

-> I’m Not Coming Home ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| slight mentions of shoko and suguru. a fic about reader dying LOL it’s just pure angst hehehe

-> Selfish Desires ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| in which reader doesn’t die but it ends up with gojo becoming toxic…. mentions of satosugu and gojo seeing reader as suguru ☹️

-> Hopefully, In Another Life ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| gojo confesses but reader has issues 😑 slight or maybe just angst in general….

-> A Way Back Home ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| reader being really sad at a clan gathering because gojo has been sealed… then megumi notifies her on a way to unseal gojo!

-> I love you ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| ‘toru feels insecure in your relationship. you reassure him that he’s the only one that you love.

-> Goodnight ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| doing late night paper work in school is stuff, especially when you have a man-child taunting you.

-> Satoru’s Birthday Surprise ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| second part to his birthday fic hehe

-> This Is Me Trying ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| the love that he lost. practically him pointing all fingers at himself for what happened to you! angst/no comfort hehe

-> The Things That He’d Do ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| head cannon or drabble list hehe

-> New Year’s Eve ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| it’s quite noisy outside, so you woke up feeling hungry. now you find yourself watching fireworks with satoru from your balcony window

-> Pancakes ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| casually spawning satan himself into the kitchen, surprisingly, results into disaster! Satoru is a HORRIBLE chef

-> Confession ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| like what the title says, he confesses his love for you

-> First Time I’ve Ever Saw You Cry ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| satoru despising the higher ups for what they said about you // implied that reader is hospitalized due to a mission but there’s no description of injury whatsoever

-> Wanna Dance ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| just slow dancing with ur husband hehehehe // kind of wrote it while listening to ulap by rob deniel

-> Cream Bun ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| short story of satoru taking a bite out of your cream bun

-> Nostalgia ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| looking back at a sickly sweet photo of you and husband while getting ready for your wedding

-> Debating with Mr. Silly ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| a sickening, sweet, and silly story about how a debate brought a confession out of satoru’s lips (my fav one yet tbh haha)

-> My Wife ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| (prequel to nostalgia) about cleaning a closet and stumbling across something you wore on the month he proposed to you hehe

-> Three Promises || One, Two, Three ! [ g. satoru x reader ]

|| [ timeline: highschool era -> 28yr gojo x reader -> post-shibuya gojo x reader ] a series of three promises that you’ve made with gojo satoru.

-> Found Family ! [ g. satoru x reader x fushiguro siblings ]

|| babysitting the two siblings and it turns out that they are fond of you and would like to be part of a family with you :3

[firenati0n]

several sentence sunday <3 :)

hello! :) hope everyone is having a good weekend! <3 thank you for the tags @suseagull04 @kiwiana-writes @eusuntgratie @dumbpeachjuice @nocoastposts @cha-melodius @ninzied @msmarvelouswinchester @leojfitz love y'all

here's a snip from the proposal au titled "the full spectrum of human emotion" which required some...research on roop's part. enjoy lol:

Alex swings one leg around to straddle Henry, one hand holding onto the chair, another resting on Henry’s shoulder. His hips do a slow, dirty grind on a very stressed Henry, taking on a life of their own. Alex is feeling wholly possessed by the horny ghost of cowboy Matthew McConaughey from Magic Mike, a series he felt compelled to revisit after his late-stage bisexual awakening. He tries to focus on the beat of the music, the warmth of Henry’s chest as Alex sways up and down. The bass line of “Pony” has nothing on the thudding of his heart roaring in his ears.  Henry's face tips back as he takes in Alex in his current state—sweaty, gyrating, focused. His eyes close, but not before Alex sees his pupils blown out, only a ring of blue visible. Alex offers up a prayer of gratitude to Steven Soderbergh for giving him a series of movies that is directly responsible for the very delicious position he's in right now. As a self-respecting cowboy, he isn't planning on looking a gift horse in the mouth. Or a gift pony, he should say. 

xoxo roop

coming soon to an ao3 near you :)

+ no pressure tags under the cut:

@getmehighonmagic @tintagel-or-cockleshells @priincebutt @cricketnationrise @sherryvalli @dumbpeachjuice @littlemisskittentoes @ssmtskw @tailsbeth-writes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @songliili @wordsofhoneydew @heybuddy-drabbles @happiness-of-the-pursuit @bigassbowlingballhead @anincompletelist @inexplicablymine @myheartalivewrites @sparklepocalypse @onward--upward @user-anakin @matherines @celeritas2997 @gayrootvegetable @affectionatelyrs @tinyarmedtrex @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @14carrotghoul @orchidscript @rmd-writes @dustratcentral @magicandarchery @leaves-of-laurelin @whimsymanaged @tintagel-or-cockleshells @zwiazdziarka @indomitable-love @anchoredarchangel @theprinceandagcd @gay-flyboys @read-and-write-

[rec-review8890]

O7 | Pregnancy RECs

Request: Hey new here and looking for a good Arrange Marriage or pregnancy fan fic. Full off drama. Thanks 

By: @prajusstuff​ 

(💦) ~ Smut , (🐑) ~ Fluff , (👊) ~ Angst , 

(📝) ~ Series , (🗒) ~ One-Shot/Drabble , 

(💜) ~ Personal Favorite 

Request Guidelines | Fic Rec ML

NONE of these works are mine. Give all your love to the authors and their works. The links will either bring you to the Tumblr page or a Ao3 page of the work. 

-

➳ Seokjin

-

Title: Soarin 💦🐑👊🗒💜

Author: @aquagustd 

Summary: Husband!Seokjin x Wife!Pregnant!reader. Also established relationship and vacation au. 

↳ “When you find out that your husband is hurting just as much as you, you realize that you’ve been thinking selfishly. And when you come forward with your doubts, he shows you how much he loves you.”

-

Title: Clingy Pregnancy 🐑🗒

Author: @blu-joons​

Summary: I feel this would so be Seokjin if he ever got his girlfriend pregnant lol! 

↳ n/a

-

➳ Yoongi

-

Title: Silence 🐑👊🗒

Author: @hyungieyoongi​ 

Summary: Also married/established relationship au. Drama in this one!

↳ n/a

-

Title: Oh Baby 🐑🐑🐑🗒

Author: @yoonlattesworld​ 

Summary: Idol!husband!yoongi x pregnant!wife!reader. Also established relationship/marriage and idol au.

↳ “Attending an award show with your husband is fun and all until the baby in your belly starts squeezing your bladder and you need to pee in the middle of an interview.”

-

➳ Hoseok 

-

Title: Telling Him You’re Pregnant 🐑🗒

Author: @blu-joons​ 

Summary: This writer makes really good pregnancy dribbles! 

↳ n/a (title makes it self explanatory) 

-

Title: Hope In The Sheets 💦🐑📝💜 

Author: @youarejesting​

Summary: 10 parts + epilogue. Completed series. Also friends-to-lovers au. Drama in this one!

↳ “You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things. What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.”

-

➳ Namjoon

-

Title: Two More 💦🐑🗒

Author: @e-cm​

Summary: Husband!Namjoon x Pregnant!!reader. Established relationship/marriage au.

↳ “With two more months of pregnancy left and nothing to relieve you of your...discomfort, Namjoon offers you exactly what you need.”

-

Title: Nine Months 🐑📝💜

Author: @gimmesumsuga​ 

Summary: 4 parts. Completed Drabble series. This felt so real that I had to add it lol! Some drama in this one!

↳ “Your due date has come and gone. Namjoon’s excited and you’re uncomfortable, but you’re both equally as impatient to meet your little girl.”

-

➳ Jimin

-

Title: Wild Flower 🐑👊🗒💜

Author: @tataelingmoon​ 

Summary: Pregnancy reveal and establish relationship!au. Some drama in this one!

↳ “You and Park Jimin have been together for as long as you can remember. However, when you find out that you were pregnant you didn't know what else to do but run away in fear of his reaction.”

-

Title: Better Together  🐑🗒

Author: @sparklingchim

Summary: Husband!jimin x wife!reader. You also already have a child together, so second baby!au.

↳ “Just a casual day with your husband jimin and your little boy jihoon.”

-

➳ Taehyung

-

Title: Flying High 💦🗒💜

Author: @borathae 

Summary: Husband!taehyung x wife!reader. This is more of a trying to get pregnant au, but it was so good I had to add it. Also established relationship/marriage and ceo au.

↳ “Your husband has the perfect remedies against the boredom on long flights. Snuggles, neck kisses and his pretty cock pounding into you. Sounds like fun? Very much so. Alternatively: The story of the night where you and your husband finally managed to get pregnant.”

-

Title: Saving You 💦🐑👊🗒💜

Author: @bebejungkook​ 

Summary: Husband!taehyung x wife!reader. Also yandere, established relationship/marriage, and ceo au. Drama in this one!

↳ “Your very over protective husband finds out you’ve been kidnapped and he was going to take the matters into his own hands.”

-

➳ Jungkook

-

Title: Only Teens 🐑👊📝💜 

Author: @0funsite0​ 

Summary: Teen!jungkook x teen pregnant fem!reader. I’m a sucker for teen pregnancy stories... sue me! Drama in this one!

↳ “You live in Korea with your American mother, Bulgarian father, and half Korean half  Bulgarian half-brother, Jin. Next to being born to a wealthy family, where your and your boyfriend's parents own a successful company together and are best friends, you are also on the straight path to succeeding as a young actress. But all that can be shattered with an unplanned teen pregnancy,”

-

Title: Mistake 💦👊🗒💜

Author: @dreamescapeswriting​ 

Summary: Idol and accidental pregnancy au. Basically, you accidentally got pregnant and jk is an idol in this so that’s like a no go. Drama in this one!

↳ n/a

[goliig68]

19 days fic rec pt.2

Making pt.2 cuz I couldn't add all of my favourite fics here( again, with no particular order )

Mark My Love by ria_green

( E | 12,525 | 9/? )

He Tian gently holds Mo Guanshan by the neck, thumb pressing into where a bond bite might one day appear.

Shivering, Mo Guanshan shoves him away. "Go do that with an omega, idiot."

Note: a funny omegaverse story. Don't let the omegaverse title put you off it's seriously very funny and cute. I love the interactions between guan shan and jian yi😂 he tian and zhen xi too! I swear they all have weirdest dynamics!

*

It will come back by mgsdays (regencyaus)

( E | 44,417 | 12/12 )

He Tian leaving on self-protection, after Jian Yi's disappearance, makes Mo scared enough to make a move. They stumble into something together just as He Tian leaves the country, and they have to figure things out long-distance while waiting for He Tian to come back.

--

Mo's known the gist of it since the dawn of his puberty. Water's wet, sky is blue, Mo's sexual desires are intertwined with his complicated feelings for He Tian. Big deal.

But the reality of it is- something else. This is something else entirely.

Did you miss me? – H

Barely noticed. - MGS

...did you? - MGS

Every minute of every day. - H

How the fuck does He Tian just say those things? Doesn't he feel embarrassed? Mo thinks he's feeling embarrassed for him, and he didn't even write it. He stares at the words until his phone light goes out, and then he turns it on again and stares some more.

Note: an amazing reunion au. I think author did a great job at handling tianshan's long-distance relationship and all of that mafia stuff. I think this fic has to be In everyone's "to read" list👌

*

nothing fucks with my baby by figglypudding

( E | 23,897 | 3/3 )

unexpectedly, and in the most unlikely of places, mo stumbles upon a reunion he'd long given up on.

but how can he heal when he's only just begun to acknowledge the hurt?

Note: another reunion au. But angstier and so much sadder😭 but it's happy ending, so all of that sadness was worth going through.

*

swimming in the blood by powerandpathos

( M | 29,455 | 1/1 )

Guan Shan’s nose wrinkles. ‘I sing like I mean it. I don’t sing it ‘cause I want everyone else to hear. That’s Jian Yi’s thing.’

’And what’s your thing?’

He Tian holds his gaze. Street lamps and car headlights are mirrored in the amber surface of Guan Shan’s eyes, and He Tian can see his own shadowed silhouette in his irises, a blocky shape of darkness with no detail. For some reason, that bothers him.

‘Still figurin’ that out,’ Guan Shan says.

Note: rock band au. Sex, drama and rock 'n roll. No drugs lol. This fic in in my top 10 favourite 19 days fics, And it is so underrated!! Go read it, it's truly wonderful!

*

nail House by powerandpathos

( M | 13,309 | 1/1 )

‘God,’ Guan Shan mutters. He pushes himself up onto his elbows. His thighs are still trembling, and he rolls his ankles. ‘You fuckin’ love control, don’t you?’

He Tian sits back on his haunches. ‘Have you seen my family?’

‘I don’t wanna talk about your family right now.’ Guan Shan huffs. ‘Bet you can’t fuckin’ stand that I have to drive you about, right?’

‘I got used to it. It’s a shame the car isn’t a manual. I’ve enjoyed seeing your hand around the gear stick.’

Note: Triad au/driver!Guan shan. One of my favourite aus! I really enjoyed reading it, so I read it 3 more time.

*

hook, line, and sinker by fayre

( Gen | 3,673 | 1/1 )

“So everything that happened,” Guan Shan says, trying and failing to keep a steady tone, “The shopping, the barbeque — everything was just because you didn’t want to go home alone? That's pretty damn convoluted if you ask me.”

He Tian huffs, amused. “Not exactly. I had nothing planned; no expectations. I just wanted to be with you.”

a post-chapter 292 drabble (the day after the BBQ/sleepover at the He family estate.)

Note: i loved all of the calm feelings I got from this fic. The descriptions of atmosphere and everything around them was so detailed that I literally could feel them too. It was very gentle and pure you know?

*

allergy season by fayre

( T | 6,506 | 1/1 )

“You know, they say that sneezing a lot means you’re on someone’s mind.”

“Yeah?” Guan Shan says a bit drily, sniffing hard. “Then what a fuckin’ shame.”

He Tian watches him. “For you?”

“For the bastard unfortunate enough to have gotten me on their mind,” Guan Shan answers, walking again. He hates how nasally and gross his voice sounds, and the back of his throat feels sore. “If someone’s thinkin’ of me this fuckin’ much, it can’t be good news for either of us. Trust me.”

“Ah,” He Tian says, and then nothing more.

a post-chapter 348 oneshot (the He Tian & dog chapter).

Note: man...i remember reading this fic hoping that one day, we get a love confession and kiss scene between he tian and guan shan (and now we fucking have it)

*

Knee high, stage fright (even if you're alright) by fayre

( Gen | 5,383 | 1/1 )

It’s no longer about what He Tian thinks; it’s about what he knows. And he knows Guan Shan — at least on a foundational level — and he knows how Guan Shan doesn’t just ask when he needs. He knows how Guan Shan doesn’t talk but doesn’t listen, either. He knows that Guan Shan doesn’t always think rationally but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think, and he knows how his body goes on autopilot before his thoughts cause him to malfunction and crash and burn.

He knows.

After all, it's the little things that add up. He Tian can only pray that they won't come crashing back down.

(or: no matter how hard he may try, guan shan can't hide all his problems. fluff ensues.)

Note: a soft and cute tianshan oneshot, with a little bit of angst but it's mostly fluff. I loved the ending, it melted my heart and brought smile to my lips🫠❤

*

singing in red by starlightstarshine

( T | 27,204 | 6/6 )

In which He Tian is the bassist for the most popular band in the world and Guan Shan is only doing modelling so that he could get enough money to pay for his next meal (based on that art by Old Xian).

Note: I love the fics where guan is head over heels for He tian haha😆

*

Tell Me On A Sunday by Llybian

( T | 1,501 | 1/1 )

He’d begun, with great difficulty, to accept all of this in his heart. But he still could do nothing. What was he supposed to do? Confess his feelings like a pathetic little schoolgirl? Not a chance.

But then again, what did he really suppose would happen if he told He Tian he “liked” him? Well, the world would end, for one. That was just a given. But beyond that, they’d probably just make out. There was really no chance of He Tian shooting him down or saying this was all just some long con.

Despite that. He just couldn’t.

Note: I think by summary everyone can get a brief foresight that what this fic is about. In my opinion, this fic is very real and in character.

*

Bites by Asfodel

( M | 24,263 | 7/? )

Turning to look at the black sky, he let his mind wander to a place he tried not to visit too often. To the last words Guan Shan heard He Tian say in that dim corridor.

« I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I’ll fix it, I’m sorry. »

Like a mantra.

or a rewrite of their reunion a few years after high school, basically disregarding the Christmas chapters. Side of ZhengYi, angsty but with a healthy dose of fluff, tags will be updated as the story goes.

Note: reunion au. It's such a beautiful but heartbreaking story. I love author's writing style, it captures feelings perfectly👌

*

A dog by Alien_Kitsune

( E | 50,000 | 10/10 )

Mo Guanshan and He Tian didn't meet in the school and each went his own way. Several years passed and Mo became a criminal. But on the verge of death destiny surprises him.

Two broken men who are still trying to find themselves in this world were always fated to find each other.

Note: mafia au. Thanks to @maruuzen for recommending me this fic!❤ I really loved the process of tianshan's relationship development. I'm sure that's how their relationship would go if they didn't meet at middle school, and/or he tian joined his family business, just like how it's stated in fic, fate brought them together. also it's angsty (of course) so be warned.

*

Dawn Rising by powerandpathos

( E | 78,968 | 13/? )

An Historical Fantasy AU—A poisoning; a death; a thief. A prince struggling to be a prince. A guard trying to stop one from getting killed. And everyone else on the sidelines. It has never been so hard to navigate the court of an empire when not everyone can survive.

Note: my favourite historical fantasy au, the plot, the drama, the characters it's just_ugh👌💞 unfortunately, this fic is probably abandoned, but don't let that stop you from reading it, even though it's unfinished, I think this fic is still amazing.

*

Cold On The Inside by incorrect19days

( E | 4,879 | 6/6 )

‘Look at me.’

He Tian instructed softly.

He took a deep shuddering breath and opened his eyes.

Note: a short and oh-so-beautiful story. It's a little bit sad but it's happy end, or hopeful ending better to say.

[plutopitou]

◇ A Favor to God

getou surugu x female reader

drabble, wc: 1.1k

Getou wants to keep you as his sick side fantasy, absolutely eager to break your spirits like the rest of your pathetic human race. You’ll let him do it to you, won’t you? | 18+ MDNI

warnings: brainwashing/dark themes, dubcon, asphyxiation (what else is new), degradation, cult leader getou (he hates mortals lol), worship themes

Theres a soft caress to your hair like you would a dog at your feet.

All you seem to possess now and days is free time. It causes you to sit and think as to why you still breathe in his presence

A large warm hand combing down your hair so comfortably it causes you to doze off at his side as he tends to his honorable patrons.

The same hand that has held it like a vice grip, forcing your throat to down his dick so harshly it makes you wonder if he still adores you. So harshly you see multitudes of polka dots coercing you to give out, crying out a “please, please, please” just from your eyes peering up.

Sitting and knitting every day routinely, helping your mother prepare warm dishes- yet it was chaos in just only a second.

You believed God must have relinquished his powers to Getou himself, making him the strongest man in the world. However with all this power he walked and talked with nothing less than modesty. He was your savior.

Still, your mind refused to forget watching him slaughter entire villages, including your own. Even after your family gave him everything to who you thought he was. Now your knitting is unfinished and all your dishes are cold with no family to serve them to.

A morning had never passed by without the immense feeling of guilt as to why you still feel the fresh grass and waves of wind. To make matters worse, you want to die from just how much you actually loved the treatment he gave you.

There was something so sweet in the way he calls out for you every sunrise, that feeling of specialness never wears off. You loved waking up every morning and having people he assigned come in and get you ready with beautiful clothes that he thinks are gorgeous on you.

A side of hot tea in the morning, feeling like the Devil dragged you down to hell and warmed you up himself.

It all made the long black-haired man wonder as well. Wonder how you’ve yet to realize it.

Getou plunges himself so deep within your throat so you can finally see it. Your head hangs off the mattress, choking trying to get away and breathe that regretful fresh air. Getou holds a still grip on the base of your neck, mouth gaping as he continues to thrust in your pulsing mouth trying to push him out from reflex. He loves seeing you struggle so much, eyes focused on your bulging throat and the beautiful spittle falling out the sides of your mouth, coating him further.

“All of this is for me,” he sighs to God. After every gag you give, he lowly moans, thrusting faster. “Fuck, y/n.. can’t you see it?”

He can’t get enough of taking from you people. He can’t help but revel in the pleasure of being above you, taking advantage of your soft body for himself, continuing his prophecy. Fulfilling his manfiesto through you.

“You people are so weak- one broken bone and even after a long exhausting healing process it will still never be the same.” His hips stutter against your mouth, he grips his cock through the soft, thin flesh of your neck- pumping himself to ecstasy. “You people posses no abilities where you can proudly title yourself as something special, because you aren’t.”

Your face feels so fucked out it’s a strain to process the words coming from his mouth.

Useless

Fucktoy

Not special

A weak human

Tears can’t help but fall shamefully down your face, alongside the weeping heat of your pussy. His words feeding it more and more until it’s perfectly lubricated for the rough nature of his hard cock, just enough to break you.

He can see the growing wet spot in your white underwear, watching your withering hips so eager for any type of release. Getou can’t help but admire how much you take it better than the rest of your pathetic race. It was no secret to himself you should have never been alive this long. When he first met your family, his eyes stared back into your shy ones as you looked away in embarrassment. He took an interest for no other particular reason other than you being his little guinea pig to fuck with whenever he liked.

With how tight your little throat and pussy is, taking you was a decision he will never regret.

Your weak slaps to push him away turned him on even more, furthering his climax. You want to be good for him, take all he has to give but you aren’t sure just how much more you can withstand. The pressure from your head hanging off the mattress, your lower region tingling with desperation, the gagging on his cock.

“You want to prove how special you are then take it all.” Getou holds down your panicked hand and jerks off his cock with your neck one last time before he gives a series of faltering gasps of release. He mutters how much you deserved this, low moans with his hips stumbling from the sensitivity. “Fuck..”

He slowly pulls himself out of your wet mouth with a sigh, strings of cum and spit keeping you attached at the base. Immediately you jolt heaving for air, more air, more, more.

Coughing, his cum still hangs from your mouth to chin. Cheeks flushed from the blood rushing to your head, skin perfectly sheen with sweat making you the centerpiece of his vision. Getou thinks this how you were always meant to be, to look like. He is who you should have worshipped all along.

“There is no one else who will ever give you what I give you.” He leans to your level with a warm damp towel, wiping his fluids off your face back to your previous innocence.

He’s suddenly so close, a breath away. His eyes are so beautiful, piercing onyx orbs and fair skin like honey with milk. He whispers so only you can hear with a soft adoring expression, “Your kind have no place in my world other than serving us.” He combs your hair back like you always loved. “Worthless, spineless beings. With me you are at your fullest potential,” A soft caress to your cheek, “This is who you were always meant to be.. alright?”

Your body still riddled with cold shivers from overstimulation, mind still fuzzy after being fucked. And every word he said is true. You don’t want to live with guilt anymore, you want to have purpose again and Getou wants to be the one to give it to you.

Your worship for him was how it was always meant to be. You are below him. Sitting by his legs like a good little baby was what you were destined to do until he decided otherwise.

A gentle nod is all he needs..

“Okay.”

Yay I really enjoyed this little fic, I tried to do a drabble but I have a habit of word vomit which is something I should work on

Hopefully Aizawa fic or Hawks again (or pt 2 to this?), ok bye bye thank you guys for the support it means and helps a lot ♡

Please like, follow and reblog ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

[savnofilter]

We've seen out of the guys but who of the girls would call the reader mommy?

   toga | midnight | burnin | mina | jiro x [afab]reader

warning(s): sexual content, mommy kink, implied sex.

i/b: one, two.

a/n: GAHHHHH how did i not even consider this before?? im READY. we're gonna go most expected to least expected. please keep in mind that these are written in mind that the couples have done more talking than listed; these are drabbles. nothing here is forced. thank you anon!

TOGA—1

ofc. you knew she was finna be on this list. toga has no qualms about calling you almost any name you want. she probably calls you mommy first. doesnt matter who tops, when she says it you fold so hard. if you guys do it for awhile or she notices that you actually like it a lot, that word will never leave her vocabulary. a term that easily be used for dominance has now switched on its axis. but this doesnt mean she totally wont act as the person who calls you mommy for submission, she just has so much rizz it's hard to handle.

         ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MIDNIGHT—2

doesnt matter who says it, but leans towards hearing it usually. if she says it to tease you then realizes that you actually like it, you better start praying. she'll say it when you're least expecting it (ie; in public, text, in bed) but not overtly in the public examples. like whispering it in your ear when brushing past you or smt. but when she's receiving, her favorite is you trying through all your might to get the words out as you ride her strap on, or if she fingering you to an orgasm or she continues to play with you through your orgasm. it gives her a high. and you dont mind if youre completely spent, she gives the best aftercare afterwards too. ;)

         ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

BURNIN—3

def prefers to call you mommy. she probably asks you to do it once, just to feel it... but she def not feelin with it being used for herself. 😭 she'll gladly call you it tho 🫶🏽 and sort of like Toga, it's more light-hearted and teasing. she likes to see the way your eyes either light up or darken upon being called the title. shes such a giver and doesnt mind doing what it takes for you to feel the upmost pleasure.

         ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MINA—4

Mina is this far down the list bc she so goofy and unserious LOL. she'll be like "youre joking, right?" and then when you get embarrassed she's like WAITTT no we can make it work- she kinda likes using it more than she would admit. still she doesnt force it, just let it slip out when she is really in the heat of the moment. she'll even call you it in public just to fuck with you. the amount of side-eyes youll get from your friends... ☠️

         ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

JIRO—5

my girl Jiro is last just bc she's shy about it. tbh i see her suggesting it. she's all shy ab it and is reassuring you that it's fine if you dont want to. you remind her that you dont mind and you are willing to try at least once to see how it goes. so the usage is pretty tame. you dont hate it and it's not your favorite kink but you do it anyways bc yk she enjoys it. plus, you love seeing her get more excited (though she thinks you cant tell, but you can).

    all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter or copy this work.

[blossom-hwa]

hi ! for your event, could you maybe do a fashion designer!reader and like, model (or another fashion designer, maybe rivals to lovers idk) soobin from txt? (hopefully this isn't too specific lol but thank you :D no worries if you can't)

hi anon! thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy it :) don't worry, it wasn't too specific at all, and I hope the resulting drabble wasn't too cheesy AHHH

soobin is a boba addict here just like me <3

summertime drabble fest: send me an idol from the list (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, Seventeen) + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

REQUESTS OPEN!!

~

Title: Photoshoots and Dates

Pairing: Soobin x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Genre: fluff, university!au

Warnings: cursing

~

By the time Soobin finally collapses onto his chair, eyes falling shut almost immediately, he can't remember how much there is left of this. He's been through what, four outfits? Five? Maybe even six? Which is on one hand a blessing, because you said there were six outfits and if he's counting right then you're nearing the end, but on the other hand, six fucking outfits, each with their own hair and makeup and shoes and accessories…

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me now." 

Soobin blinks his eyes open to see you hovering over him, makeup wipe in one hand and a brush held almost threateningly in the other. You brandish the thin stick through the air and yeah, that's probably a weapon. 

He almost groans. 

"We're done," you promise, leaning in closer. Soobin obediently offers up his face out of relief that all six outfits are over, letting you swipe the cool cloth across his skin. "Sorry, I know it's stressful. But let me get the makeup off you now, so you don't have to do it later."

He's about to complain, but then he remembers you're the one who coordinated each of these outfits and their looks, the one who sketched and sewed and slaved countless hours over the pieces of clothing that he just has to wear in front of a camera. "It's infinitely worse for you though," he says as you finish dabbing something off his right eyelid. "I just have to stand there."

"Yeah. Stand there in front of a camera, which you said you weren't used to, then get makeup rubbed on and off with all these crazy accessories with every single outfit to boot." You raise an eyebrow, lips half turned up in the beginnings of a smile. It's really pretty in all these contradicting ways, Soobin thinks, praying he doesn't turn red, just like you always are—haphazard in all outward appearances but inwardly focused dead on everything you plan to do. No wonder you and Yeonjun get along so well. 

The passing thought of Yeonjun makes Soobin's stomach turn slightly. First jealousy, then guilt. Because you and Yeonjun are so close—in fact, he was supposed to be the model for this shoot and Soobin only took his place because he had to bow out so suddenly—and in the face of the growing crush Soobin has on you it's hard for him not to compare himself to brash, bold, exciting Yeonjun, when he's so…quiet and shy and nothing at all like his best friend. 

Hence the guilt. Because he never wanted to feel this way, not about his best friend in the world. 

"Soobin?"

He blinks. You look down at him, eyes furrowed in worry. The wipe has disappeared from your hand but the brush is still there. "You good?"

He almost blushes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Ah. Yeah, I figured." You extend a hand and he takes it, pulling himself off the chair, but this time it's his turn to wonder as you bite down on the inside of your lip. "You're definitely tired, right?"

Soobin frowns. "Yeah." I just said that.

You stare at him for a moment. Your unwavering gaze turns him self-conscious, all too aware of the fact that he hasn't changed out of the last outfit you put him in, that you're still holding the makeup brush that you'd swept over his face so softly, so sweetly that his heart had nearly stopped the first time said brush touched his skin. He's all too attuned to his halfway unbuttoned shirt, the thin necklace still draped around his throat, the gel slicking back his hair…

You curse suddenly. Soobin nearly jumps. "Ah, fuck—sorry," you apologize, dropping the brush back on the table behind you. You're really chewing on your lip now and Soobin's actually getting nervous—you've never looked this anxious in the weeks he's known you, never been anything other than cool and confident with that half-smile-smirk and those laughing eyes—

"Y/N?" He steps forward, almost closing the distance between you two before he realizes just what he's doing. God, his ears must be bright red with the way he feels them burning, but as he peers into your eyes that's honestly the least of his worries. "Are you okay?"

For all your anxiety, you look back at him steadily. Which makes him heavily regret the step he just took. Because you have a full view of his outfit now, especially of the red silk shirt slipping down his chest, and Soobin knows you were obviously looking at him when he was modeling in front of your camera but it feels different now. Less staged. 

More intimate. 

Your eyes flutter down to where the shirt still lies unbuttoned against his chest and damn it, he's really blushing now. Only you look slightly flustered too when you meet his gaze again, far more uncertain than he's ever seen you before. 

"Damn, I'm really not good at this." You laugh a little while Soobin frowns. What are you talking about? "Listen, I…I know you didn't really want to do this in the first place and Yeonjun probably owes you so much boba for taking his place, but…I need to be honest."' You swallow hard and when your gaze skitters away from his, Soobin finds himself following it instinctively. "I'm really glad you said yes to this, not just because without a model I would've definitely failed this project, but because I…I really like you."

I really like you. 

Soobin's heart thumps loudly in his chest. A choked sort of noise comes out of his throat before he can stop it but it looks like you didn't hear because you keep going. "So I was going to ask you out to get boba after this but I know you must be exhausted so it's totally okay if you say no, but I just, uh, wanted to sort of put it out there and it—it could be a date, if you wanted but it doesn't have to be—"

"Y/N."

You stop immediately. And this—it's so wonderful to see this side of you, Soobin thinks, because for all your usual confidence and spirit, you're really cute when you're like this, rambling and nervous with still enough strength to look him in the eye. It's the knowledge of this strength, in the end, that gives him enough courage to reply. 

"I—I'd really like it to be a date."

It comes out whispery, soft, almost choked like he hasn't said anything in a very long time. But he says it. 

And honestly, with the way your eyes brighten at his words, he's pretty hopeful you didn't notice anyway. 

"Oh." The word leaves you in a shaky breath that makes Soobin feel a lot better about the blush that's definitely coloring his cheeks right now. "Oh, I—great." You cringe and so does he but then you both laugh a little. "Are you—are you sure, though? I'm sure you're tired."

"It's just boba," Soobin says, smiling way too hard and way too bright to look normal but he can't help it, he's liked you so much for all this time and to know that you like him back—"I think I'll survive."

A little bit of your usual confidence glints in your eye as you laugh. "Well, good. I'd rather you not die on our first date." He nearly swoons at that—our first date—but then your gaze dips down. "But you might want to take that off first."

Soobin follows your eyes to the red silk shirt that's still artfully unbuttoned partway, displaying a lot more skin than he's used to. The blush comes back in full force. "Oh. Yeah." He cringes, but it's worth it for the way you laugh. "I'll be back."

You smile widely, and it’s lovely. Beautiful. "Sure,” you say, still grinning. “I'll just be waiting right here."

[lollybliz]

oh dear

thank you @aromanticannibal for the tag, you gremlin

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your wips folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and tag as many people as you have wips.

so. most of what i consider to be my wips are not much more than brainstorming sessions in a friend's dms at this point. but i do have a few. and uh. well. couple notes. a few of them are not much more than bullet points, atm, and i havent touched Any of them since november. and uhm. well many of them are vore. like. very. so. beware, there be monsters in this map, yada yada, ask at your own peril

that being said, in no particular order, have at it

Snowbird

We're Swallowing Light 'Til We're Fixed From the Inside

There are a number of medically recommended ways to warm up a hypothermic patient. This is not one of them.

Wriolette ideas (this is more a collection of concepts and significantly less than bullet points lol)

Involuntary Exploratory Laparotomy (a bullet point wip)

notes and outline for i dont think this counts as cuddle therapy actually (this is technically for we're swallowing light, i have like. 5 different versions of that wip floating around this folder because im an indecisive bastard and the plot holes keep fucking me)

bits and pieces of Fi

Excuses to feed venti's gnosis to Aether

spelunking (NSFW NSFW NSFW i forgot about this one, shit. this was a babbling in dms that escaped containment and has a doc to compile said babbling)

felt feelings about this youkai man (part of a drabble i didnt finish)

anything else is either abandoned or so nothing that it doesnt seem worth sharing. there's a few of these im v reluctant to include as-is, am Embarrassed:tm: fasdhklfhasjldfhajlsfhjlasfl

i will be tagging...... who do i want to inflict this on. hm. @phoenixislost @roryka @no-one-told-you-life-was-gay ... who else of you do i know have wips in your pockets... @teatops @pufftheminidragon go forth and spread shenanigans!

[coffee-writesthings]

Intro post + all the things I've written

Hi there, I've used this account for a while now and I feel like posting more of my writing here-- Thus, this post! I'll do my best to keep it updated as I go.

I've been writing, both original and fanfiction for ~5 years at the time of making this-- not all of which has been posted ofc. I'm always trying to improve and practice, so I think that putting it out there will give me more drive to actually do it if nothing else.

Currently, the stuff that I write for is TF2, but I also love me some unhinged crossovers. And over on my ao3 account I have posted a few things as well. I'll be crossposting stuff from here over there. (It's set up so that my stuff can't be seen there if you don't have an account though. I would prefer to avoid my stuff being included in web scraping)

Fics below the cut, in chronological order + separated by fandom with a couple of notes

TF2 fics:

MHA x TF2 crossover: Part 1

Under the pretext of lung replacement (Spy & Medic)

Exculpate (one word prompt, Medic & Spy) (CW: intrusive thoughts)

Nyctophilia (one word prompt, transmasc Sniper)

Man sees kitten, explodes into a billion pieces (Soldier and Heavy) (made for a mutual) (no tws)

maybe sometimes showing a spy your back is a good idea (Engineer/Spy) (WIP (both are trans here) (I'm head clown here i run the rodeo) (and i say that an ultimate show of trust is showing your bare back to the guy whose whole thing is backstabs)

Cinderella retelling but it's engiespy (Spy/Engineer) (WIP, ch 4/7) (spy is the cinderella, engie is the prince) (cw for the whole stepmothers and stepsisters thing but it's a cinderella retelling i figure that sort of comes with the territory) (Oh yeah also engie it trans i honestly forgor about that)

Running for your life from tf2 med, normal Tuesday night for cannibal med (Heavy-centric. Medic is the horrors but that's honestly only in my head) (horror) (mild tws for gore, cannibalism, and nausea-related things)

Heavydemo propoganda cus i saw a thing and thought i'd contribute

Like real people do A cross-team Engiespy drabble where they have a first kiss and get all vulnerable with each other

An EngieSpy prompt from Jamison! Short but sweet ficlet

Choir headcanons

Putting his life together with duct tape a dadspy fic with an implication of engiespy but it's rly tiny. The main meat is about Scout and Spy having EDS and their ways of dealing with it

Merc Headcanons: Escape rooms - what it says on the tin

Sniperspy with a side of fake dating - a thing i'm doing sort of technically with my friend Lone, btw holy shit i can't do titles tonight lol (part 2/???)

BALDUR'S GATE 3

William (durge character) really needs to rest. Barcus insists - aka me venting about how STUPID myrkul's fight is through another character :)

ORIGINAL WORK

A bard's first steps - Part of an original thing I'm working on, character study of Basil the tiefling bard

How she became an oracle - Backstory stuff of Lilah, surrounding the deity who gave her the abilities she has now (Avandra, though it might be subject to change later on)