#we’re all just down this rabbit hole

[oneknightlight]

My dad being flabbergasted by every new piece of spamton lore he inevitably uncovers by observing me build this cosplay

[darlingpoppet]

What's your favourite thing about patrochilles?

Sorry for taking a while to answer this one anon but I was very grateful to receive it so I wanted to think about it verrryyy carefully lol!

It’s hard for me to pinpoint one thing in particular because I don’t know if I can talk about my favorite thing without talking about everything else, haha. So please bear with me for a moment as I tee this up: for me, Patrochilles is a ship with tropes I’m naturally extremely attracted to, such as: a king & lionheart dynamic where fierce loyalty, trust, respect, & affection for one another transcends differences in social status/rank; one character who is antisocial/difficult to deal with but shows their tender/soft side with the other character; the deeply compelling tragic love story where one dies and other avenges them/loses the will to live and dies themselves soon after (whether presented as romantic or otherwise, it hits so hard!)

So I say all of this because maybe my favorite thing of all is the fact that Patrochilles is probably one of the oldest extant examples of these tropes (predated perhaps only by the Epic of Gilgamesh which itself was a direct influence on the Homeric epics and Patrochilles story)… and idk to me there’s just something SO COOL about the fact that I can be emotionally affected by this story that people 3000+\- years ago were compelled by, and in all the years in between it has been depicted, discussed, debated over, remixed, & retold by countless people… which means seeking out more Patrochilles reveals everything from plays to paintings to pottery to essays to music to novels to film to animations to video games!!!?!, not to mention of course all the contemporary fan art and writings that are being created all the time by people like me who just love the story & characters and are compelled to share their love with others & create. There’s SO MUCH Patrochilles out there and it feels really special to actively participate in such a historically & artistically rich tradition and to work with what has survived & been passed down, because even separated by thousands of years of time & cultural differences, human pathos is still the same <3

Because the story is so old it’s easy to see them as merely an archtype, in a Romeo & Juliet sort of way—invoking them as a shorthand for the kinds of tropes and dynamics they embody for a different, contemporary ship, which is completely fine & valid of course! But also I find the more I read about them & think about them, these characters themselves & their relationship are so rich and nuanced on their own, and surely that is what makes the story so enduring, so I encourage everyone who sees Patrochilles in their own ship to come over and join the Patrochilles party as well! They’re such a rewarding and inspiring ship— like this is not at all a ship where you gotta dig for crumbs or squeeze blood from a stone because there is SO MUCH TO WORK WITH! The Homeric version alone you could spend the whole rest of your life thinking about! People get whole doctorates so they can do exactly that! Wowee!! Concepts that exist in our cultural consciousness like the idea of “soulmates”, Patrochilles are near the original scene of the crime!! (Plato’s Symposium) and there they are held up as the highest ideal of love!! WOAGH!!!!

So anyway yeah, I feel like there’s so much more I could talk about but I hope this manages to convey even an iota of the passion I feel, and why it’s them in particular I feel passion for. Thank you so much for your ask <3

[lyvm43]

They’re saying that the drone that killed the three BLACK american soldiers was mistaken for an american drone so that’s why it wasn’t shot down and that’s because it was an american drone

[housecow]

something about people that don’t seem like they’d be into feedism gets me... they may be active in their community, well-liked, in shape, they might make healthy choices often. no one suspects they’re outside of the norm in any odd way. sure, people wonder why they just haven’t settled down yet—they could find someone, right? easily?

but no one knows that their eyes linger a little too long on the 400lb woman they see at the grocery store. no one knows how they fantasize about being between those monumental thighs—how they don’t mind if they have to fuck rolls or a belly button if access is just too limited. maybe that’s the way they want it, too. no one knows that the sight of morbid obesity accompanied by an overfull grocery cart of fattening, processed food is enough to distract them for hours.

after all, it isn’t normal in any way to want to make someone fatter. despite knowing that, 200lbs just doesn’t seem like enough anymore. they fantasize about getting a dedicated fatty to completely lose control. they know they’re getting deeper into this rabbit hole. their friends bring up someone normal sized, someone conventionally attractive, and they can make a comment or two to play along but fuck. the only thing on their mind is what an extra 200lbs could do to her.

and that’s just so fucking underrated. it’s all about the descent of the feedee, usually, which is understandable—we’re giving our bodies and minds to the cause. being fat is hard.

but with feeders, it’s so much more.. sinister. they can have everything, they know what they like and can get it—but the idea of fat lingers. they will want to squeeze, caress, kiss, bite, or maybe just cuddle up to the mass they’ve helped cultivate. nothing else can fill that hole and they know it.

maybe i can’t lose this weight, but you can’t get me out of your mind. that’s the power here, i think.

[ktownshizzle]

Wild & Free | Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Warnings: Mild angst, cursing lol, mentions of sex, pining and lots of it, reader is insecure, couple of idiots truly, covid didn’t happen, one mention of recreational gambling (we're in Vegas!), canon moments I botched for my own use, ginger Yoongi is a warning in and of itself, angry Yoongi, cliches ‘cos meh, possible inaccuracies about Las Vegas - been there once, but details used in the story are just from research. Also, I get that Las Vegas weddings might seem tacky to some. Coming from a background of traditional, elaborate ceremonies, the characters in this story are genuinely surprised by this simpler approach. After all, a wedding is really just about you and your partner, and that’s the essence we’re exploring here. ♡ If you can get on board with that, then let's head to the Tunnel of Love! Viva Las Vegas! 🙂

Word Count: 7.2k (approx. 30 mins.)

Posting date: August 31, 2024

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

"Yoongi, marry me!" You shout at the top of your lungs, earning laughs from the people around you. 

On the other side of the room, a couple of other people shout the same catchphrase, including Kim Taehyung, who seems to get the most kick out of it out of all the members.

Coerced to do one of those Tik Tok dance challenges, Min Yoongi stands in front of the room, hides his face behind his hands and you watch in delight as he awkwardly sways his hips side to side. More cheers erupt and two seconds after he decides he was done.

"Hajimaaaa!" Your friend says to no one and everyone, cheeks burning as he stalks back to the chair he was occupying across yours.

You push his beer bottle towards him, "Good job, gramps."

"Fuck off," he says with no real bite, taking a long swig off his drink to cool off his reddened cheeks.

It's great to finally get some down time with the crew. After such a fast-paced, high production tour, everybody needed to blow off some steam. This Korean BBQ restaurant off the Strip was the perfect venue to get the team together for samgyupsal and drinks. The vibes are, as the kids say, immaculate.

You are already sufficiently buzzed so you sit down as Seokjin takes his turn to do the challenge. He really seems to be more into it than the man currently giving you a look.

"I heard you." He narrows his eyes at you almost accusingly.

"What? It's the new viral catchphrase," you shrugged. "Everybody and their grandma is saying it these days."

"Not their grandma."

"You should be flattered."

Stop, you thought he would say. But his response catches you off guard.

"Only ‘cause you said it."

And he has the audacity to lick his bottom lip, a ghost of a smirk forming.

Fuck. Your throat dries up. When did it get so hot here?

“And in case you’re wondering…” he leans forward, a dopey-ass grin now on his face. “The answer is yes.”

Record scratch.

Did he really just-

Thankfully, you recover.

“Stop playing,” you say, trying to sound casual. But your face probably betrays the internal turmoil happening in your brain. You fear the day will come that he will have caught on to the unshakeable something you have been harboring for the better part of the last decade.

See, there’s always been an unspoken tension between you and Yoongi, something neither of you ever addressed or acted upon. Perhaps, in your younger days, there were moments when you felt your friendship was on the verge of becoming something more. But then he debuted as an idol, and things took off, and you were robbed of time. With his group’s growing popularity and you managing his personal career, the possibility of exploring anything beyond friendship and your work rapport became even more distant.

You feel like a bug under a microscope the way he observes you with a lopsided grin and while you try to hold his gaze, this clown interrupts.

"If y'all done eye-fucking each other, some of us are heading back." A drunk Park Jimin says with a mischievous grin, eyes crinkling like crescents. You could almost throw up.

Your eyes shift back to Yoongi and he just blinks in that blank way he does and bends to collect his bag from under his chair, completely ignoring his bandmate.

‘Fuck you,’ you mouth to Jimin hastily. Just enough time before Yoongi emerges with his backpack and your tote, which he already slung on his own shoulder.

You try to take it from him, but he waves you off.

"We're in bus 2," Jimin sings-songs and walks off, looking every bit the trouble-maker.

Thing is, you made the mistake of confiding in Jimin once, last year. You got drunk after getting dumped by some guy you met on Bumble three dates down, though it really was the sting of learning that Yoongi took one of Psy’s backup dancers out for coffee, even if it was just casual, that pushed you off the edge and into a bar in Hannam Intersection. Coincidentally, Jimin was there with that cute idol from Shinee and some other guys, but he joined you when he saw you looking like shit.

After learning about your long-standing crush (thank God you did not drop the L-bomb), Jimin would occasionally tease you, much to your chagrin. He’s careful not to push things too far, but it’s clear he sees himself as a bit of a cupid. You keep telling him that nothing will come of it, but he just won’t let up.

You are scared for things to change between you and Yoongi, not when everything is just how it’s supposed to be. 

Not when you believe in your heart that if anything would have happened, it already should have.

And you would snuff the last embers of the torch that you keep holding out for him if only you knew how.

"Drive-thru weddings?" Yoongi enunciates in English, with the slightest lisp that you have always found so endearing. As your tour bus passes by chapel after wedding chapel, he continues to wonder out loud. "People get married there?"

Namjoon turns his head to look at Yoongi from his seat in front. "Yeah, hyung. They don't even need to get out of their car. It's just like a McDonald's. But they get a marriage license instead of a burger."

“Really? And people do this? Like, randomly?”

“Yeah, some celebrities decided to do it that way, but I assume many people do, too. I mean, look how many we’ve passed already.” Namjoon says with a tiny grin, cheek dimpling.

"Mm." Yoongi hums and you're curious about that faraway look on his face as he stares outside.

“Are you interested?” You joke lamely, instantly regretting opening your mouth. Why do you keep propositioning him? You blame that ‘one for the road’ shot of soju you downed on the way out of the restaurant.

He studies your face, before he replies lowly, so only you can hear, “Are you asking?”

Fuck, he’s bold. He’s also a bit drunk, but everyone knows he can drink anyone under the table. You know this is not the first time he got weirdly flirty with you after one too many drinks, so you take it in stride.

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” Hoseok's voice booms from the back and with a chorus of laughs ringing inside the vehicle, you take that as a sign that this is definitely just the effect of being in Sin City.

A few beats after and you steal a glance at Yoongi, finding his gaze transfixed at a sign that read: "The Little White Wedding Chapel".

Last day of the Las Vegas tour and while you are glad it is almost done, your heart aches as you remember that this is also your last one, ever. Your 60-day notice is already running, having tendered your resignation a month after LA wrapped up.

As great of a job as it is, your heart seems to always be at odds because of the lingering feelings you have for Yoongi. Everyday, you find yourself trapped in the limbo of unspoken feelings and missed chances. The endless “what ifs” weigh you down, and you can’t summon the courage to confront them. It’s not anyone’s fault but your own, and you hoped that stepping away from this life might jumpstart your next chapter, as BTS is also about to embark on theirs. 

With the group taking a break for solo projects and gearing up for their military service, it seemed like the perfect moment for you to explore something different, too. Maybe finally open that cafe you’ve always wanted. Maybe you can also meet somebody, especially since your eomma has been on your back even more lately about giving her a grandchild.

You weren't planning to sever ties with Yoongi entirely, or at all. There’s too much history between you two to just walk away from the friendship. But you were desperate to let go of the emotional baggage.

The thing is, you have not told anyone. Not even Yoongi. Especially not Yoongi. It is highly likely that he will try to stop you and press for reasons, and you can't tell him that you’re in love with him, can you? Just… no. What a fuckin’ cliche.

You don’t know when you will be ready to tell him the truth, but it needs to be soon.

You find him on the side of the stage, eyes locked in on his phone that he held with one hand and you already can tell he is watching a documentary with the way his face is screwed up in concentration. His ‘watching a cat video’ face was infinitely more smiley, that's for sure.

He lifts his sleepy eyes up as you approach, handing you a latte that he apparently picked up for you from that place across the street, because the coffee from the catering ‘tastes like shit.’

Before you can say thanks, Yoongi exclaims, “Omo! Michael Jordan got married there?” 

Your confusion must be written all over your face, because he quickly explains, “You know in one of those drive-thru wedding chapels we saw the other night. Wow. I can't believe Jordan did that.” 

He pauses the video and turns the screen toward you, revealing a white building decked out with all sorts of decorations reminiscent of Valentine's day. The way he looks at you, expectantly, makes you feel like you should share his excitement, but you're a bit stumped. “Yoongi-ah, why are you watching this?”

He fidgets with a sheepish grin. “Well, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Korean weddings can be so complicated, you know? Hyung was really frustrated with all the traditions at his wedding.” He shrugs, still looking a bit embarrassed but trying to stay casual. “Here, it seems like you just need the right person. And maybe some courage. Okay, a lot of courage. I just— I don’t know, I find it fascinating.”

He nods to himself, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Totally endeared, you hop to sit beside him on the stage, bump your shoulder with his, and say, “Go on, press play.” 

The tiniest of frowns that has settled between his brows smoothes out and he angles the screen more towards you before resuming the video.

Turns out it really is fascinating (Omo! Joe Jonas also got married there! But wait, isn't he divorced now?), so you watch a few more clips, before soundcheck starts.

You’ve always known Yoongi to have massive hyperfixations. In fact, you’re not at all surprised when that night during the concert, he even cheekily says to the crowd during his ment, “Welcome to Las Vegas, with the drive-thru wedding.” And of course, the audience eats it up, those wearing Shooky headbands, veils or holding “Yoongi, marry me” signs end up being the loudest.

But while you’ve supported all his previous mini-obsessions (League of Legends, Dalgona coffee, woodworking) until he over-indulged to the point of almost flushing it out of his system, you are not quite sure how else to help him with this one.

Unless of course, you… hah, you wish.

The tour wraps up successfully. The boys have different group and individual schedules before they return to Seoul. For Yoongi, a shoot for his photofolio, and some b-roll content for his upcoming documentary was on deck for him, you, and his crew. 

The drive up to the desert was pretty uneventful as mostly everyone was asleep. You arrive sometime in the afternoon and immediately get to work in order to catch the golden hour. Yoongi has disappeared into the makeup trailer and you busy yourself with checking the preps.

The theme was glamping. Though Yoongi would never admit that that was the concept he approved. He would most likely say something more deep and poetic, that the setting is a poignant portrayal of his growth as a person and a metaphorical exploration of his artistry… Or something like that.

Things were running a little later than you like, which always happens when you are doing shoots overseas, so you volunteer to help with the set design. Placing some of the props near the camper van, you take a second to decide whether to use the metal cup or the ceramic mug, when a sleepy voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Set looks great. Good job."

You turn your head to look at Yoongi and wow his hair is orange.

The color of his favorite citrus and of course he looks sexy as fuck. He smells phenomenal, too–like mandarins with a hint of spice. You are in so much trouble. Seems your mouth is filled with cotton the way you are unable to make a sound.

“Yah! I spent hours on this new hair, you're not going to say anything?” he whines with a small pout.

You snicker at his cute expression, reaching out to touch the ends of his hair very lightly else the glam team unnies might scold you. “You look like a cat.”

“Ugh,” he groans, walking away with what you now realize is a stick of marshmallows in his right hand.

“No, Yoongi, it's cute,” You follow him as he stops in front of the bonfire, roasting the marshmallows over it briefly before taking a bite, still not placated by your words.

You decide to put him out of his misery. “You look good. Like really good. ARMY would probably even say sexy.” You inwardly cringe at the last bit–using ARMY to voice out your inner thirst, really?

Nonetheless, Yoongi's reaction is priceless. His lips stretch into a thin line, chin dimpling as he pretends to not enjoy the compliment that he very well fished for. 

“Ok quit acting like an emoji and let me take your photos for IG.” You take your phone out and snap a few pics of him posing with the marshmallow, some without it. A couple of him grinning, gummy smiles on display, and you know you need to keep some of these for yourself when the inevitable comes and you won't see his face everyday. 

“C’mere,” he pulls you to his side, arm going around your shoulder. A whiff of his musk has you swooning which you hope he does not notice.

Your phone is taken. He snaps a few selfies of you both and tsks when he sees your lock screen. 

“Tablo-hyung, still? You know he's literally married and has a kid, right?”

You make a face and snatch your phone from his grasp. “Yah! As if you're not an idol and your face is not the wallpaper of thousands of people.”

“I think you mean millions.”

“Ass.” You try to shove him, but his hand closes in on your phone again. 

Swipes and taps later, he seems satisfied and your phone is handed back to you, before he walks off without so much as a goodbye.

What did he do?

Wait.

Tablo is gone. 

And the tableau in his place is one of the photos you just took with him. Eyes twinkling, smiles identical. The picture of a seemingly perfect couple.

Oh, damn. You really are a goner.

You send the pic to Jimin a little later. His response was unwelcome.

Jimin: You two have literal heart eyes for each other. So cute.

You: Not helping.

Jimin: Just tell him how you feel.

You: Again, not helping.

Jimin: What's your plan?

You: Do you really wanna know?

You ring him. Might as well tell somebody.

In between layouts, Yoongi films interviews for some magazines. You have complete faith in him and his media relations skills at this point. Smart, thought-provoking Yoongi can wow any interviewer, sometimes to the point where numbers have been slipped inside his coat pocket. Thank God this one is on Zoom, ‘cause you can’t deal with something like that happening right now.

You caught wind of something that he said during the interview and you made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Sometimes, it feels like my life is just a sequence of obligations and schedules,” he tells the online reporter. “I can’t even remember the last time I made plans for myself. Being here in Las Vegas is refreshing. It’s like everyone is just living by their own rules. I don’t think I’m like that at all.”

"Do you want to be like that?" The reporter asks.

"Maybe..." he shrugs, sinking a bit lower on the chair he was on.

It was late and the crew was just winding down before packing up the set.

“How was your day?” he asks you with a soft smile. You can see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Not bad,” you say, taking a spot beside him on the picnic blanket that was still on set. He seems pensive.

“Did you ever think we would get this far?” he asks. “Couple of Daegu kids, now running around in America.”

“Who would've thought…” you say, observing him. His eyes were stoic, but you know he's got something else on his mind, something bothering him.

“You said something in your interview earlier.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Not bad per se, I just never heard you say it in an interview before. About not feeling like you can make your own plans. Like life has become a series of schedules.”

He hums and takes a sip of something from the mug he is holding. Your nose tells you it is definitely not hot cocoa.

“I’ve come to terms with it for the most part, you know,” he sighs looking out into the vastness. “But plans are good. Makes me feel like there is a point to all this.”

You follow his line of vision and sigh. You knew he was feeling a lot of stress lately. His life was not easy. You hate that you have to pile on top of it.

“We need to start planning D-day soon. It's going to be so busy with the album and the tour and all the content we have to make. Oh God, we might have to do fan calls, but I'm so embarrassed when I do it.”

You mimic his hum, getting disoriented with his use of ‘we’. He still doesn't know that word would be null and void soon.

“By the way, we gotta come up with a different name for the Youtube show. I can't pronounce it. Sich? Sush? Shit-”

“Suchwita,” you say, guilt settling in your tummy.

“...and we have that collab with Halsey for what’s that game again? Doom? No, Diablo! We used to play that before, remember? I think we might be doing a music video for that one.”

Just tell him. This would be the best time.

“Look, Yoongi I-”

“Thank you,” he suddenly says, in a tone so soft, and the way he punctuates it with your name makes your heart soar.

Your eyes snap to him, the slight pinks dusting his cheeks make him look like the teenage boy you met in music school.

“I’m not good at this - fuck, this is so awkward - umm but I've really been meaning to tell you that I appreciate you.” He continues, “You're really important to me.”

You try to fight back a smile at how elated you are, but can’t. And maybe he needs to see how happy this is making you. How happy he is making you.

In the years that you've known him there were two distinct moments that made you believe that just as you have been in love with him, maybe he was in love with you, too. And as you watch him rub his crinkled nose, trying to act chill but can't, you somehow convince your fickle heart that this might be the third.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, with all this talk about our ‘chapter 2’...”

“Yeah?”

“I know things are going to change, but I’m glad you’re still here. I honestly don't know what I'm doing half the time, but you, you give me direction,” he smiles, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you seriously thanking me for my constant nagging?” 

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “I’m thanking you for being my friend.”

Oh. Ouch.

His lips keep moving and moving, and he is saying things with a fond smile, but your ears can’t register a single word. Except that single word: friend. Because, that’s all he sees you as, and that’s all you’ll ever be, and lest you need a reminder, that’s why you did what you did.

Disappointment cracks through your core and your lungs are suddenly devoid of air and you feel the urgent need to step away.

“Sorry Yoongi, I- I have to go.”

“Huh?” The light in his face fades, replaced by a frown and confused eyes that are watching your every move.

“Wait, did I say something? Tell me what's wrong.”

Don’t cry. Shit. Don’t cry. 

“I've nothing to tell you.”

You grimace at how stiff you sounded but before you can rectify anything, your feet take you to the nearest trailer. You close the door and drop to your knees as uncontrollable sobs rack your body.

You rein yourself in after a few minutes, wiping your tears on the back of your sleeve. You fish your phone out from your pocket, the photo on your lock screen twisting the knife lodged in your heart. 

You ring the first person on your recent contacts.

“I can’t do it, Jiminah.”

“What happened? Talk to me.”

You tell him how you were just talking and it was getting deep then he got sentimental and said thank you…

“For being his friend.”

A beat, then Jimin finally speaks. “He is such an idiot.”

“I can’t do this,” you say, with finality. “I’m going to finish this tour, but I’m really leaving. I can’t be around Yoongi anymore.”

You finally get a couple of days off and decide to dodge Yoongi after coming back from the desert. It’s oddly easy—he’s not seeking you out like he usually does. You left him hanging the last time you talked, and now you’re stumped about how to fix things. You and Yoongi never really fight, at least not seriously. You handle work stuff through Kakao, like sending over today’s recording schedule for the award show. He left you on read.

Jimin immediately calls out for you as you step inside the set. It was just one of the penthouse suites in the hotel you were staying in. You feel awkward as some eyes shift over to you as you barely had time to fix yourself, you just aren't in the mood.

“Hi,” you respond simply. “How's everything?”

Jimin glances over his shoulder, and you follow his gaze to find Yoongi staring blankly at the coffee table, a face of thunder.

“He knows. He heard you on the phone with me.”

Your heart immediately drops to your ass. “Shit.”

Jimin shrugs, a mixture of sympathy and amusement on his face. “Yeah, he’s pretty confused… and a little pissed.”

“Did you–”

“I would never,” Jimin interrupts quickly, holding up his hands. “It’s not my story to tell.” He pats your shoulder reassuringly. “Just talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You’re not sure if Jimin’s optimism is comforting or just making you more anxious. You’ve spent years imagining every possible outcome, every scenario where he finds out you felt something deeper. And most of those scenarios end in heartbreak.

Either way, you know you’ve got to face the storm brewing in Yoongi’s eyes.

The shoot goes on without a hitch. You and Yoongi avoid each other like the plague, so much so that one of the makeup unnies takes notice. You downplay it, not wanting to be the subject of workplace gossip.

The schedule wraps up and as you get ready to leave, there is a light tap on your shoulder.

“Hey noona,” Jake says, looking a bit nervous but flashing a tentative smile. “Umm, a bunch of us are heading out tonight. If you don’t have plans, you should join us.”

Jake’s one of the newer camera guys, and while he’s been nice—always greeting you and opening doors—he’s barely scratched the surface of what could be considered a friend. He’s not just polite; he’s actually pretty cute. You’ve never really hung out with him before, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to say no. It was one of the last nights you have in Las Vegas, and maybe, you should live a little.

“Ok. What time are we leaving?”

“Can we meet at the lobby by 10?”

Just as you’re about to respond, there’s a loud crash from the other side of the room. You catch a glimpse of Yoongi and Jin amidst a flurry of crew members rushing over. Whatever happened, it looks like it’s already being dealt with.

“10?” you repeat, still distracted by the commotion.

He nods.

“Got it,” you reply, trying to shake off your unease. 

Jake adjusts his backpack and gives you another nod, his smile still lingering as he heads out. “Cool. See you tonight.”

“Ok…” you nod, a little dazed as you watch Jake fistbump one of the producers on the way out.

“Hot date?” Jimin appears out of nowhere, casually sipping his Americano. His grin is a little too knowing—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

“Not really. He just mentioned that a few people were planning to go clubbing and asked if I wanted to join.”

Jimin’s eyes light up. “So, he wouldn’t mind if we tagged along, right?”

“Who’s ‘we’?” 

Yoongi lifts his wine glass at you, smiling and unbothered.

Is this him extending an olive branch?

“Hey, Danbi, Eunchae…” he says, his gaze drifting past you to the two girls from Design. They look momentarily stunned, then offer hesitant waves, clearly not accustomed to this rare gesture from the usually wordless Yoongi.

Seriously?

This asshole.

A knot of frustration tightens in your stomach. Not only is he acting like nothing happened, but he’s also playing it cool, like he’s completely unaware of how much this is getting under your skin.

You’re sad, but now you’re kinda pissed, too. And the worst part of it all, he knows he looks fine.

Ginger hair slicked back to reveal the fresh undercut, He’s wearing some black shirt and black pants, with Jordans you would guess, and you know if it was any other man wearing that, he would have been stopped at the door. 

You shift the strap of your dress slightly, conscious under his taunting eyes. The little number was something hot you recently picked up, the kind that might end up on somebody's floor.

“Are you going over to them,” Jake asks casually, leaning closer to your ear.

“No,” you say, breaking eye contact with Yoongi and moving to the next table where the others were, with Jake following closely behind.

A chorus of hellos started as you reached the table. There were a couple of girls from Hair and Makeup and some of the videographers, too. As if on cue, a tray of colorful shots are suddenly placed on the center console. The night is about to begin.

Jake has been incredibly attentive so far, but the truth is, it’s someone else’s attention that you want. You are hyper aware of Yoongi’s presence and it’s like having an itch you couldn’t scratch.

You spot Yoongi by the bar, alone and absorbed in his own world. As usual, he's oblivious to the pair of women casting lingering glances in his direction. 

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and make your way towards him. You notice his shoulders tense and stiffen as you approach, a clear sign of his unease, which almost made you want to retreat. But you know you can't go on another day of this unresolved tension with him.

“Yoongi, can we talk?”

He looks up, smirking as he swirls his drink. “Nah.”

Alright. You were not expecting that. 

“Look, I just wanna explain–”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to,” he cuts you off, his voice casual but his eyes fixed stubbornly on the lowball glass he’s holding.

“But I–”

“You don't wanna be around me anymore, simple. Dunno why you're here.”

“Wait, Yoongi, you don't understand.”

“Don't understand? You never told me shit.” You notice how his fists are clenched, knuckles turning white. “I would have apologized if I did something wrong. Thought you knew that. Thought we were friends.”

It’s that word again. You chuckle bitterly. “Friends, I know. You keep saying that.”

At this he looks up at you, brows furrowed, but it was your turn to avert your gaze. 

“‘Kay. You're leaving anyway, right? You can start now.”

“Fine.”

“Bye.”

You take a few steps, but something tugs at you, pulling you back. You glance over your shoulder, hoping to catch him watching you leave, wishing he’d somehow intervene, stop you from walking away.

But he isn’t there. His chair is already empty, the space where he sat now as vacant as if he’d never been there at all.

No one knows you better than Yoongi, and apparently no one else can hurt you quite like him, too.

The night is young. The club is electric. It is the hottest spot in town and you are hell-bent to experience it to the max.

Spirits and sugary shots tempered the hurt that settled in your gut after your encounter with Yoongi, now replaced with an urge to forget, to almost rebel.

The dance floor becomes your sanctuary. Shots of sweet, potent liquor flow, loosening you up and syncing your movements with the music. The crowd sways around you, a sea of bodies, but Jake remains a constant anchor. 

His hands rest confidently on your stomach, your back pressed against his chest as you grind slowly against him. With one arm raised, you hook your hand around his neck, letting your bodies move in perfect rhythm. It's been a while since you let yourself go like this, but it's Vegas, after all.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You’re so sexy, noona.”

“Wanna get out of here?” The words leave your mouth before your brain can stop you.

Jake's eyes widen slightly, but he nods, quite enthusiastically actually, and you think: fuck it, he's cute and you are leaving the company anyway. 

Disappointingly, the heat between you and Jake cools with every passing second as you make your way back to the hotel. Yet, you cling to the idea of seeing it through, driven by the need to prove a point: that a) your life doesn't revolve around Min Yoongi; and b) you are attractive and can pull anyone, even if Min Yoongi does not want you.

In another world, this would be a whirlwind of clothes flying off, bodies pressed against walls, hands exploring with urgency. But instead, you both enter the hotel room in silence, the air heavy with a tension that contrasts sharply with the passionate encounter you’d hoped for. The quietness between you feels like a stark reminder of how far you are from the fantasy you envisioned. 

Jake notices the maze of thoughts you were lost in.

“Noona,” he says, placing his jacket over the arm of the couch. “Are you sure you want this?”

Want. It was hard to stitch words as a response to that. Not when your heart has only wanted one person for years.

To be fair you do want Jake in your bed tonight. Objectively, he is super attractive - his soft, wavy hair, those wide, doe eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass.

No time to waste. You turn to him, slowly unzipping your dress and letting it slip to the floor. “Does this answer your question?”

“Yes, yes, it does,” he walks in long strides over to you, yanking up his shirt in one fell swoop, revealing his toned stomach.

His hands cup your face and soon you feel his lips against your… neck? Ok, you can get into this. It’s not like you hate it. 

He spends a few moments kissing you there. You close your eyes, willing your brain to shut off and just be in the moment.

“Can I touch you here?” One of his hands ghosts the side of your rib, inching towards the underside of your breast.

But before you can answer, loud knocks pound at your door.

“What the hell?” You hastily pull up your dress, zipping it up quickly. The furious raps continue and you can hear a voice behind it.

Jake follows you as you head to the door, picking up his tee from the floor and pulling it over his torso.

Bothered at the urgent banging, you don’t think to view the peep hole as you swing the door open, revealing 

“Yoongi?” you squeak.

“Get out.” Eyes bloodshot, he strides past you and goes for Jake, who quickly tries to side-step him, moving a few steps back to create distance between them.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jake's eyes, wide as saucers, go to his elder then to you, before a realization dawns on him. “They said you weren't– Fuck, I swear I really thought–.”

"Get. Out." His voice is cold, laced with a fury you’ve never heard from him before. He grabs Jake by the arm, practically shoving him toward the door.

Jake casts a pitiful glance back, mumbling, "Sorry, noona," even though he’s done nothing wrong. But you don’t see it. Your hands are covering your face, trying to shield yourself from the shock and shame crashing over you as the scene unfolds.

“Fuck off, kid.”

And then the door slams shut.

Yoongi paces the room like a caged animal, his hand raking through his sweaty hair in frustration. His breathing is heavy, almost ragged, as if he’s on the verge of losing control.

You finally find your voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't just barge in my room like that!”

“I just did,” he fires back. “Why are you with him?”

“It's none of your business. But since you really wanna know. I was about ready to fuck him.”

He clenches his jaw, his voice strained. “Did he touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck!” 

His hand shakes as he drags it through his hair again, his frustration barely contained. “Did you want him to?”

You can't understand why he’s asking these questions, why he’s reacting like this.

“Yoongi,” you exhale heavily, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “Why are you here?”

Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi likes being in Las Vegas. The city buzzes with an electric energy, a stark contrast to his own chill demeanor. It’s a place where neon lights flash all night, and the unpredictable atmosphere makes him feel like a fish out of water—a thrilling kind of discomfort. He doesn't get why a city so loud and chaotic captivates him, but it does.

He was never one for outlandish, over-the-top spectacles, but the Cirque du Soleil show he watched with you and Hobi the other night instantly became one of his favorites.

He never liked recreational gambling, but the way you lit up with joy and hugged him tight after winning just 20 bucks at a random slot machine—it’s now one of his most cherished memories.

He never fared well in big, buffet restaurants, but if it means hearing you shout “Yoongi, carry meeee” (so stupid) as you beg him for a piggy back ride after downing five heaping plates, then maybe he can start looking up some buffets back home, too.

Las Vegas is free. Las Vegas is wild. Min Yoongi is not. 

At least, not until that night when he tore past wild and plunged into nothing short of primal.

Straight out of a segment from The Animal Planet, he was a tiger, lounging contentedly with his pack. You were his queen, his chosen mate—though you don’t know it yet. But when a looming threat emerges, the alpha in him awakens, tapping into ancient survival instincts to protect what’s his.

First, he observed the threat.

Some guy from production. Jake. He’s HYBE's new ace videographer from Australia. Isn’t he younger than her?

Oh shit, this was the dude Yoongi actually handpicked to be the director of photography for his documentary. He might have to rethink this, depending on how things play out.

Fucker has his hand on your back and you shift subtly so his hand falls away. This is good, you don’t seem to be too into his advances, Yoongi tells himself, relaxing slightly on his chair.

Second, he assessed the situation.

Unfortunately for him, the situation escalated quickly.

Never in his life has he ever wanted to gouge his eyes out so badly. If he could actually shove his fingers in his eye sockets and scoop his eyeballs from his skull he would have done it right then. Yet somehow he couldn't look away. There was a sick, sadistic pleasure in watching you lose yourself on the dance floor. Like a voyeur, he stared, mouth slightly parted, breathless as your body grinds in time with the bass. He didn’t want to acknowledge the other man in the picture, the one that wasn’t him.

“You’re drooling, hyung,” Jungkook teases, and Jimin erupts in a fit of giggles, almost falling out of the bar stool.

Yoongi wants to deny it. But between the ache in his heart and the boner in his pants, he did not have it in him to lie. “Pass me a napkin, dipshit.”

Third, he sensed danger.

Unfortunately again, he had to use the toilet at some point. And as he returns to his spot on the balcony, he panics.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Jimin looked at him, warily. “They left.”

No, he thought. No, no, no they’re not leaving this club. They are not leaving his sight.

Fourth, he took decisive action.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through his body spurring him to run out the door, his phone on his ear as he tries to reach his driver.

“Hyung, stop.” Jimin runs to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“You know where.”

“Why?”

His head is pounding. He cannot think straight. And Jimin asking so many questions is so fucking annoying.

“You know why.”

Jimin sighs exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you idiots just talk about this like normal people?”

He doesn’t answer his friend, but he knows Jimin will be coming with him, whether he likes it or not. Because Jimin, nosy as he may be, is also one of the last real ones in his life.

Fifth, he confronts the threat head-on.

Which has brought him here, in your room, acting like the unhinged motherfucker he never aspired to be.

Your stern voice shakes him from his thoughts. “If you’re just going to stand there, just get outta here, Yoongi.”

“No.”

“No?” you let out a huff, a bitter sound cutting him. “You got some fuckin’ nerve. You ask me all sorts of questions, but you can't answer mine, huh?”

He has never seen this look in your eyes, and he starts to regret the hasty decision to come to your room. 

Now, he was confronted with the first and very real possibility of you walking out of his life.

“Again, why are you here?” you ask, your voice a notch softer than it should be. It’s clear you’re exhausted, your tear-filled eyes an indication, wanting nothing more than for everything to make sense.

He cautiously pads towards you and gently reaches out for your hand. To his relief, you let him take it and he envelops it in both of his.

He takes one good look at you, committing your face to memory, because in his mind, this could be the point where your friendship ends.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes for a moment, before a confession finally spills from his lips. “Because I can't lose you.”

You blink and a lone tear spills free.

“I heard you on the phone with Jimin and what you said broke me. I keep thinking what I did wrong, but I can't figure it out. Then I saw you with that guy and I lost my shit. You know I'm terrible at expressing myself, but I need you, ok? More than I can say. Don't go. I can’t let you go.” He tugs you gently towards him, encasing you in his arms.

It didn’t take long for you to return the hug, pressing your cheek against his chest, and he is certain you can finally hear his heart that beats only for you. How he wishes he can summon the courage to say so. But the moment feels so delicate and he wants to tread lightly. 

“Yoongi…” you sigh out his name and his heart races at how tenderly you seem to have surrendered to him. 

“I’m so sorry that I was such a dick to you. Didn’t mean to ice you out. Honestly, that’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

“What is it that you want, then?”

“This.” He tightened his arms a tad against your frame to make a point, before pulling his head back, just enough to be able to see your eyes when he says, “You.”

Your breath hitches and he is unable to read the expression in your face. Was it just shock? Was it dismay? A slight panic bubbles in his throat. Did he misread the signs? Did he just blow it? But you felt so pliant under his touch, you still do. So he had to ask, even if your response might just end him.

“Y-you don’t want this?”

“No, I do, I do,” you say, almost too quickly, nibbling on your bottom lip afterwards. His thumb goes to caress your cheek, and you lean slightly into his touch.

‘Fuckin’ do something,’ his brain screams at him, the way it has for years now. 

So many words are still unspoken between you two, but as he looks at the affection and the want in your eyes, he decides–fuck it, you can talk later.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he finally admits, his voice low but steady. "Is that okay?"

You nod, but hesitate. "I’m just—” you place a hand on his shoulder, as if to anchor yourself on him. “I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

He lets out a breath, a smile playing on his lips as he sees yours curve into a shy grin.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he murmurs as he closes the gap, his lips almost grazing yours.

“I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Yoongi.” Your nose nudges his, inviting him to make the next move.

“You were never just a friend,” he whispers against the corner of your mouth.

“And after this,” you say, moving your hands to the back of his neck, “I might want you all to myself.”

His lips brush against yours, featherlight. It’s barely a kiss, just a fleeting touch, but it leaves you both craving more.

“Baby,” he breathes, “I’m already yours.”

A/N: What do we think??? Feedback is appreciated! Do we hear wedding bells, or nah? See you in Part Two! 🙂

Tag: @tea4sykes @mggv97 @jajabro @yooglefics @codeinebelle @tinytan-gerine @comingupwithacoolnameishard @dontcribuyabag @mizz-kraziii @angelfuzzy2 @marnz1990 @speedyhandsbonkpalace @amarawayne @coffeedepressionsoup @little-cherry01 @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @lolpanda94 @parapiop7 @wobblewobble822 @dazzlingjade @storyofafangirl @yoongrace @mzbtsreads

Thank you so much for reading, you beautiful human! xo

[minkieater]

tide | khj

pairing. rich!hj x f!reader genre. non idol au, toxic relationship, soulmates warnings. substances, consumption, mental health, sexual content minors dni PLS wc. 5.5k

♫ — the broken one, qm ft. jiung “when you said that you wish the two of us could die together, i just pat your head and say i know.”

the best way you’d ever described your relationship is adjacent to a children’s movie, and for that comparison you feel wrong, but nothing else comes close. when alice fell down that hole and her entire world flipped upside down, changing everything she once thought she knew, it was the epitome of years of your life spent with him. you being alice, hongjoong being… everyone else. the mad hatter, cheshire cat, the red queen, white queen, the jabberwocky, the rabbit, he was everyone, all the time, all at once. your life, the riddles, everything but nothing making sense at the same time. there was nothing else you could possibly compare it to, two emotionally adolescent humans in adult bodies. 

neither of you had ever been angry people by nature. in fact, you had always been deemed quite the opposite. hongjoong, older and successful, a man consumed by his work but always made time for the people around him — he shows up for birthdays, impromptu get togethers, graduations, backyard parties… despite his ever growing workload, he always put in the effort to be there. and not just be present, either. he’s always been observant, even in the beginning, showing up when you least expected it. after the longest, hardest day, with flowers and your favorite food in tow, he’s always been a true partner. 

you’re not much different. the parties hongjoong always shows up to typically had you behind the curtain. planning, decorating, even picking up the tab… you’re the epitome of loyalty. devotion, creativity, passion. you’d bettered him as a person, in his work, in his relationships, in his productivity. you love to help and you love to love, you surround yourself with people who give that back to you tenfold in a heartbeat. 

in the beginning, you thrived. you worked together harmoniously, you were patient with each other, compassionate, so stupidly in love…

“would you marry me?” a starless night, on the rooftop of his ever luxurious loft. his hair is black, a cigarette between his lips, his sweet chocolate eyes the brightest light amongst the dark, empty air. 

you knew you had never answered any question with such a quickness as you did that one. you don’t think you’d even muttered the word no to him in the six months you’ve been together. 

he handed you the cigarette he knew you were craving, a habit you picked up from him and him alone. one habit you didn’t share before you’d met. his stare is intense, the gleam in his eyes is bold, it’s saying a million words yet not one leaves his rose colored lips. words you know, words you’ve said, words he hasn’t returned. but he does, he will, eventually. 

“we’re forever then,” it could be a question but it feels more like a statement, an announcement of sorts, a promise that you could never break. you had no choice in the matter, not that you needed one, not that you could imagine a life without him after so little time of knowing him. 

it made you smile through the burn in the back of your throat, a long exhale leaving your lips, gray smoke following suit. in went your solitude, out came the pact you made with him under the moonlight. like the smoke, it faded into thin air, never to be taken back. 

“we became forever six months ago,” you handed the cigarette back to him, your fingers touching for a just a moment in passing. his smile reached his eyes, creases in his skin that you would run your fingers over in the dim light of his bedroom. every inch of him, burned to memory. 

“we became forever the day you were born, doll. just took until six months ago to find me,” the tobacco was between his lips again, wrapped around the circular stick, always glossy. never chapped, never dry, always swollen and sultry. edible. 

time went on, days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. you initially thought hongjoong didn’t have a bad side, eternally a happy and exemplary lover. to be fair, you didn’t think you had one either. there’s a saying for that, right? you bring out the worst in each other? but they’re traits that are embedded in you. when the stars aligned the day you were born, you were gifted them, wrapped in sparkling wine colored paper and you just didn’t get around to opening them until someone fought fire with fire. 

you’d never yelled at a friend, let alone a lover, in your life. he’d never once been angry enough to remove himself from an entire room, have to excuse himself from the woman across from him because her voice took up too much space, smothered him in his own home. the one thing that kept you two linked, from the bedroom with the door locked to the couch all the way out in the living room, was how fucking obsessed with the other you were. 

it was sick, the heaviest sensation the two of you shared. lust, love, adoration, codependency, everything came right under obsession if you could even rank your feelings. most days, everything just blended together, anyways. from the moment your eyes met, really met for the first time, it was cataclysmic, the soul you knew just by his gaze that you shared. the click that linked the two of you for life. 

the air of the club was humid, wet and murky, too many people in too small of a space. you were at a sponsored event for work, dressed too classy for the place you were at, all the bodies around you covered in way less fabric. you were one track minded when it came to work — always looking upward, fighting to climb endless ranks, you could never rest. never break concentration. 

until the biggest distraction stared at you three people down, stood around the curve of the bar while you waited on your cocktail. he moved with a fluidity similar to water, a wave, an ocean as he waltzed into your space. behind you, he slipped his card down over your shoulder onto your tab before you could even reach for the cash in your purse.  

“nice play,” you glanced over your shoulder, greeted with teeth as white as snow, glistening hues of pink and blue from the dance floor cascading over the impressive structure of his face, “thank you.”

“a pretty drink for a pretty girl,” you glance down at the red cherries sitting in your cocktail, a mixture of yellow and orange sitting in your glass, mimicking a sunrise swirling around the cubes of ice.

a laugh escaped you, “i’d rate that pick up line a 7, i suppose.” 

he answers with a shrug, “anything above a 5 is a win for me. hongjoong,” his hand reaches out to shake yours and you’re taken aback, almost shocked at the gesture of a simple handshake around the bar at a more than busy nightclub. it told you more than it should, coming up on years of business under your belt, it seemed more like a proposition than an introduction. 

in that moment you saw him, you saw through him, you saw deep down inside and you couldn’t crawl your way out if you scratched and clawed your nails down to stubs. he was like you, apart of your world, higher up, even. he came from class, he came from money, he came from importance. he’s handsome, he’s gorgeous, and jesus christ he’s going to ruin your fucking life if you let him. you’d let him do anything.

your work event was long forgotten the second the two of you made eye contact, your attendance was the only thing mandatory, anyhow. a night of freedom, letting go of subjugation from your company as you spent ages with your back pressed to his front, bodies moving as one to the beat of whatever song played through the speakers. one melody after another, you don’t know how many songs have passed before you've faced him, hands around his neck, one of his legs between yours.

“you’re beautiful,” he says, noses nearly touching, wanting to curse the millimeter standing between himself and the rest of his life. a moment of pressure from you stood over his knee and he decided he’d never needed something so bad, his stomach growling with a hunger he was saving for a single taste of you. 

“yeah?” your smile turned mischievous, a dangerous game you were playing, he’d strip you down in front of the entire club, fuck you in front of every man in the building. that’s if he could live with himself letting anyone besides him see you like that, which he couldn’t, of course. your outfit left too much to the imagination, tight dress pants and a white top that clung to every inch of you. he needed to know what was underneath. he could imagine, picture you beneath the cotton, he could almost feel the soft plush of your thighs on his fingertips. 

“prove it,” was all you said and it sold him of the only thing he had left. his pride, the thing he savored, he’d usually let anyone else take the reins with him, want him first, so he could drop them without a second thought. you wanted me, i never wanted you. always the predator, never the prey, even under the gaze of his evermore. 

anyone that came before you, the several exes, plethora of playthings, he’d easily forget them, leave them all behind for a night with you. he wouldn’t settle for just a night with you, he won’t take anything less than eternity. your thin, tiny square lenses sitting low on your nose, your hair messily wrapped up on top of your head, lipstick still perfectly applied on your lips, the way you were so meticulously put together… it was a primal urge, the need to ruin it, ruin you, keep you forever, just for himself. 

you weren’t doing far off, core aching for a kiss, a touch, anything to take the edge off. something about sharing a soul meant you could see his and it stood tall and red and rippled in the wind and screamed at you to let him make the first move. he needed to lay his cards on the table, make his blood stained soul turn white, let him give himself to you before you gave yourself to him. you listened, as much as it wounded you, his glossy lips begging you to close the distance, to taste him, to hurry up and move on with eternity because time waits for no one. 

you could see his internal battle, there were several going on in the mere moment that lasted for hours. the battle of your beings, still separated not yet merged, yet still transparent for the other to see. the battle of him with himself, his pride, his masculinity, this routine he’s been performing for the past six years. your battle with him, begging him to give into you, to show you what he’s made of, to show you what color he bleeds. your battle with yourself, your self control to listen to whatever is telling you to let him give in first. you knew he would, he knew he would, it was a waiting game. 

once he said fuck it and he raised his white flag, his soul changed color as his lips tasted yours. one kiss in the middle of a crowded dance floor, overflowed enough that other people’s sweat was mixing with your own, music pumping through your veins, the world had shifted. tectonic plates couldn’t compare, couldn’t move you the way hongjoong did in that very moment. 

this combining, this merging, this tasting of his soul, the atoms that make up his very being, you consumed it all entirely. the good, the bad, the complicated, the opulent, the rough, the agonizing, you could feel all of it in him. you needed more. 

it wasn’t always like that, wasn’t always intoxicating, blinding, all consuming. the obsession was beautiful, addicting, similar to the box of tobacco you now kept in your back pocket. it translated to tenderness, intimacy, warmth, it was one of a kind. one that sparked jealousy from others, one that closed its doors on anyone who dared to peer inside. it was personal, only to be enjoyed by the two of you, never shared. no one on this fucking earth could understand you the way hongjoong could, no one could read your mind, fix what needed to be fixed before it was even broken in the first place. he was a lifeline, a savior, a backbone for you. and you were all the same to him. 

he’d never thought he could love anything the way he loves you. his music, his art, his life, he’d throw everything away if that meant one more second spent with you. you were water to him the way he was air to you, the sun to him the way he was the moon to you. in every single lifetime you know hongjoong has been your missing link, two fucked up pieces that finally finished the puzzle. when put together, everything made sense. you were complete. 

“mm, maybe a half an hour longer?” his smile is sheepish, almost embarrassed to say the same answer he’d given you thirty minutes prior. 

a knowing smile grows on your face, how could you be mad at him? your hard working boyfriend, forever sitting behind a screen, making deadlines meet. when he said half an hour, he meant two hours. when he said twenty minutes, he meant an hour. his language is exclusive to only him, it takes someone who really knows him, really understands him for his dialect to be construed.  

you went to bed, surrounded by white walls with monochromatic paintings that didn’t have any real meaning. the room was big, too big to be comforting. too empty to be lived in, especially without him beside you. it’s how the whole loft felt: picturesque, a movie set, a bed, bathroom and kitchen without being a home. you could have a photoshoot here anytime with the natural light pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows, but could you raise a family? could you settle here, in this city?

you kept your eyes closed, searching for sleep that didn’t want to be found. pulling the comforter over you, you nuzzled in, cocooned yourself into the mongolian cashmere that threatened you with its heat. 

“going to sleep this early? that’s no fun,” you heard his voice before the patter of his familiar footsteps, a rhythm you’d memorized months ago. he climbs into the california king, searching for you, finding you, kissing you. “what’s got you wrapped up like this? missed me?” 

you nodded, bottom lip jutting out, feeling so small even with him here, this huge bed engulfing you. you needed his heat, his touch, his skin on yours, you wanted comfort. 

“my girl,” he cooed, fingers running through your hair, messily sprawled across the silk pillowcase, “i missed you too.” 

kisses that were peppered along your jaw turned heated before you could notice his mood had changed. as his tongue licked up the base of your neck you whined, pressing yourself into him, mindlessly begging for more. 

“needy girl,” he teased as he pulled the blankets off of you, mongolian cashmere be damned. you wore one of his shirts, oversized enough to be a dress. he pushed it up past your stomach, pleasantly surprised with the lack of anything underneath. 

“ah, my needy girl is clever, hm? planned this, did you?” his smirk stretched across his face, eyes deepening to the richest, darkest brown, reflecting the ecuadorian chocolates he bought you months ago, a gift on a random thursday. 

“and what if i did?” you’d been pleading for him to come to bed for ages, begging him to fill more space in this empty room. you’d been prepared to try anything, stopped only by his mask of concentration. 

“then you’re in luck,” before you knew it he’d already slipped inside you, your back arching against the texture of the percale sheets beneath you. he’d wrecked you, as he did every time, swapping spit and cum and secrets, exposing skin and feelings and truths. 

every time the sex was this sweet, this melodious, he’d tell you exactly how he felt about you. he’d make you feel it. 

“fuck, i fucking love you,” he was buried to the hilt, holding your face between two cold hands, “could die right here inside you a happy man.” 

you couldn’t do anything but moan, clenching around him, your coming answer enough. 

“want me to fill you up?” he’d asked, thrusts turning rougher, more sporadic, the finish line nearing, “yeah? give you my kids? make you a mommy?” 

you locked your ankles behind his back, this wasn’t the first time you’d done this. an iud sat inside you, still working perfectly fine, his proposal wouldn’t come to fruition with you like this. you still nod, whimpers leaving your throat, low babbles of begs for him to fill you. 

he always did, always carried you to the bath after, always washed your hair, your body, maybe filled you up once more if you felt like it. 

“do you want to stay here? in this city?” the bath had run lukewarm at this point, but you didn’t want to separate, didn’t want to spend a moment not pressed against one another. 

“for now, i think so, why?” his hand was traveling up and down your arm that hung outside the tub, your head laid against his chest. 

“when we have kids… i don’t know about raising them here,” your voice was small, unsure of where his mind would go with your sudden revelation. 

“we have a long way to go before then,” he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. you stayed quiet, fingertips inaudibly tapping the side of the tub. 

“this been bothering you?” his other hand moves to grip your jaw, a light touch to twist your head, making you look up at him. 

“i wouldn’t say it’s bothering me, but anything can happen, i was just thinking about it,” even the bathroom is too big, too lifeless to be a home. marble tile, his and hers vanities, a detached, massive shower, a bidet on the toilet. you couldn’t picture smaller you’s running around in here. 

“we’re already playing with fire, i guess,” he leans his head back on the tub, “where do you dream of going? if i could build a house from the ground up for you, where? what would it look like?”

like a scene from the notebook, your heart twisted, bursting at the seams with the unbelievable amount of what you felt for him. so you told him, a rancher, a farm, somewhere quiet and peaceful. a house that felt lived in, one appropriate to raise a family, one that wasn’t perfectly dusted and organized all the time. picture frames littering shelves, toys randomly left across the house, clothes on the floor of the bedroom. you wanted normalcy, you wanted warmth, you wanted a family. 

he wanted nothing more than to give you that. within two weeks he’d been in contact with several realtors, purchasing land on the countryside, finding the perfect plot for you two to raise your little family. he’d pictured you in a pair of boots, a tee shirt, an old, big pair of overalls. your stomach swollen, hair messily wrapped up, walking in the barn, feeding the chickens. his heart warmed, and his dick so quickly rose again, twitching behind your back. 

how a love so beautiful, so unique could get so fucked up, you couldn’t understand, not even three years later. you didn’t want to understand, though, and neither did he. you don’t care, neither of you do, because the only thing that matters is that he is still near you. close to you. breathing your air, touching your skin, whispering the most vile shit into your ear, he is here. you needed him closer, needed him so close that you merged into one. it’s never enough, it’ll never be enough, more of him, always more of him, always more of you. 

he felt the same way. your breath on his skin, your saliva drying on his neck, he wanted more. he wanted it messier, he wanted it sloppier. he wanted it to never end. but the two of you will never end because you’re meant for each other, right? there’s no one else on this planet for him, billions of people and he’s found his other half already. she’s under him, she’s breathing, she’s screaming, she’s beautiful. he’s so lucky. 

which is why it makes sense to no one that they don’t see either of you anymore. usually one of you, here and there, never together. never holding hands, never smiling at each other, never touching the other one’s hair, never fixing the other one a plate. never together, but yet rarely apart. as far as everyone knows, you’re still together, they think? you are, you tell them that you are, hongjoong tells them that you are, but poor yeosang can’t understand why he doesn’t see his friends anymore. he misses their smiles, their laughs, their humor, their parties, their love. you miss it too, sometimes. 

the truth is, your shared codependency turned into some warped fucking version of destruction where neither of you can stand to see other next to someone else. at clubs, at bars, at those backyard parties with your friends, god forbid you get too close to san. you swear to that same god if hongjoong spoke three more words to mina he’d be sleeping on the couch for weeks. everyone noticed, everyone could pick up on it easily. the side eye, outright glares across the room, hongjoong’s hand around your wrist like a pair of handcuffs. you couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed at your friend’s glances, their eyebrows furrowing in confusion, their questions that sat heavy in thin air without ever being spoken. you were too worried about what hongjoong was thinking. how angry he’d be, what it’d be like when you got home, if he’d even say a word to you the rest of the night. hongjoong was already cooking up his testimony, ready to tell you to stop being fucking insane and our friends are just friends, yet the double standard was always there. you’d use the same arguments against each other, have the same rebuttals. it got you nowhere, there was no resolution, there was just his california king and percale sheets. the cashmere blanket that laid over every argument, tucking it away tightly until the next time you unveiled it. 

as much as your love fucked you up, made your brain not fucking work correctly, you couldn’t bear to think of a day where you’d be apart. couldn’t imagine your future not spent in that rancher on the countryside, children and chickens running amok. 

when he told you his job was relocating him to the states, yet another huge city, you couldn’t breathe. for a full minute you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t answer him, you couldn’t function. your lifeline, your savior, your water, your moon, leaving you. 

“i’ll start looking for a place for us,” he said so casually, too casually, scrolling on his phone, not even looking at you. the breath was sucked from your lungs, you wouldn’t be surprised if your face was blue.

“no, i won’t go,” you murmured out, clearly, unlike the stumbling of words in your mind, hot tears in your eyes and strain on your voice. you sat up in the california king, goosebumps raising on your bare body in the too cold bedroom. 

“huh?” he finally tore his eyes from the screen, “what do you mean no?” 

“i won’t fucking go, joong! you’re asking me to pick up my life and move to another country for your stupid job?” anger flushed through your veins, your voice raised, fire in your eyes. you turned to him in the bed, not even bothering to cover yourself with the sheets. 

“my stupid job? my stupid job that pays for this place? pays the bills?” he sat up too quickly, his eyes were wide and oh boy was he angry, you hit a nerve there. 

“i can pay the bills just as easily as you and you know that, hongjoong,” you bark back, tears close to boiling as they stream down your face, “i can’t leave my life. my career, my stability, my future, what the fuck did you think i was going to say? huh? yeah sure! let’s move out of the country! are you out of your goddamn mind?” 

“your future? what the fuck am i then? just a placeholder for now?” he’s laughing with wide eyes and oh fuck it’s maniacal, ring covered fingers tugging at his white blonde roots. “i fucking knew it. you never planned a real future with me then, did you? all that talk about getting married, having kids, all of it just a fucking lie? a sick little joke to keep me with you, paying the rent? funding your little shopping sprees?” 

“fuck you, hongjoong, you fucking know that’s not true,” you’re sobbing now, his words hitting their mark. you stood up and walked out to the living room, pulling the white, soft blanket with you. 

your dream, your future, your life, crumbling around you. hongjoong was air to you, your moon, controlling the tide that pushed and pulled you closer or farther away from one another. 

you’d never been dependent on anyone before him, never needed a moon to your sun, you shone brightly all by yourself at all times. even now, with him, you could easily survive without him. financially, at least. even in this big, lifeless loft you could support yourself, you were just as successful as he was, after all. but emotionally? actually living a life that he wasn’t involved in? you don’t think you’d survive it. 

you could leave here, move with him, restart your life somewhere else. you wanted to do that, but in the countryside, this situation is completely different. this isn’t a choice. this is someone else making a decision and everyone expecting you to follow suit. what about what you needed? what about your job, that you adore? spent years climbing to where you are, you now have an entire team working under you. what about that team? your coworkers? your family, living close by? your friends, oh god your friends, ones you haven’t seen in an embarrassing amount of time… only months past twenty six, you could technically restart if you needed to. you just don’t want to. you needed hongjoong to not want to, either. 

a moment barely passed before he’s beside you on the couch, tears pouring down your cheeks, face buried in the crook of his neck. he’s rubbing your back, kissing your head, whispering sweet nothings that’d always calm you when you broke down like this. he knows how to fix you, always stitching back together what he tore apart.

two months later, and you didn’t end up on that plane beside him. he had you really convinced, though, in the same way you convinced yourself: you’d leave your job, find one similar to yours in LA, climb the ranks, and be as successful as you are here, but there. you’d be just as devoted, passionate, happy. 

ultimately, he thought he knew best, like he always does. he thinks he knows you better than you know yourself, sometimes. he knows you love your job, love your team, your coworkers, you love your position. you spent ages crawling your way up there. you love your friends, your family, you couldn’t leave them behind and still be happy. you’re a loyal woman in every aspect of your life, with your lover, your friends, your career. every small string is attached to what makes you, you. he knows you’d never be as happy as you are in this city, but he also knows you’d never let him go without you. so he left without a goodbye, without a parting gift, a farewell kiss, a last departing whisper of an i love you. 

he left you alone, broken, empty. 

a shell of who you once were. 

what he didn’t take into consideration is that you love him more than anything, anyone. you were inconsolable. your friends didn’t know what to do with you. they wondered why you weren’t at hongjoong’s going away party, why they haven’t heard from you, they didn’t know everything he did was in secret. how word didn’t get passed around to you, you didn’t know, you were still furious about it. they didn’t know how to help you, they couldn’t even start to make sense of why your boyfriend of years would leave you without a second word. neither could you. they couldn’t wrap their minds around how you didn’t know he was leaving. neither could you. 

that one long day you spent at work, coming home to a cold, massive, empty fucking apartment. not a trace of him, not one small sign that he ever lived there in the first place. he took all his clothes with him, all of his equipment for work, even his little trinkets… all gone. disappeared into thin air. how could you not fucking know? 

you took almost a week off from work. something you rarely did, you felt like you couldn’t catch up, couldn’t manage your insanely busy schedule if you did take some personal time. but this was different. it wasn’t a week spent relaxing somewhere warm, it wasn’t a vacation, it wasn’t happy at all. you thought you felt your world crumble around you when he first broke the news, this was the real thing. this was the past three years of your life that had been devoted to one singe person, the person that mattered most, the person that you’d cross oceans and go to war for and he plucked himself directly from your life. 

mina, yuna, yeosang, mingi… they were at your apartment around the fucking clock. they didn’t leave you alone, it was suffocating. you hadn’t left your bed for days, you weren’t eating, you weren’t drinking, you were too busy staring at the space above your dresser where a picture of the two of you once lived. 

he didn’t call. in the year you spent apart, while you built yourself again piece by piece, rewiring your very brain chemistry, he didn’t call you. he blocked your number, blocked your social medias, blocked your family. you went through every outlet at first, every friend you shared, trying again and again, begging for just a conversation with him. never once did you get through, never once did you hear how he was, how the states are different from here, how he’s been eating, who he’s been with… god, who has he been with? he’s yours, no one else’s.

you lost weight, you lost sleep, you lost your drive, you lost yourself, fifty percent of you. your soul was somewhere so far you couldn’t feel it, couldn’t access it, in an entirely different fucking country, tens of thousands of miles away from you. bottles of liquor now sat in your pantry, cartons of cigarettes sprawled across the kitchen table, every hour of your free time spent in solitude, months upon months of you driving yourself mad. 

you thought your bedroom felt empty before, unwelcoming, frigid, dispiriting, you couldn’t imagine being there without him, yet now you couldn’t bring yourself to go elsewhere. you took it for granted, having him here, you felt guilty for even thinking that you’d be happier somewhere else when you had the only thing you’ve ever needed in your possession. 

but a year later, he stood on your doorstep, a doorstep you once shared. a doorstep that has seen you pressed up against the frame with his hand inside your skirt, a doorstep that’s listened to your meaningless arguments on your way home from an event, a doorstep that’s watched as you bid visitors goodbye. he’s there, he’s breathing, he’s living, he’s close to you. not close enough. 

the earth had turned gray, the sunniest of days couldn’t make the city look saturated in the year you spent apart. all the usual too loud noise had turned to whispers, all the business couldn’t inflict an ounce of motivation in you. within seconds of seeing his face everything was colorful, the city had sound again, it was if someone flicked a switch sewn into your back. 

“you’re a real piece of shit,” you bark out, opting to shut the door in his face. his foot slides between the door and the frame, his hand lurching forward to hold it open. 

“i’m here,” is all he says, and you pause, looking up to him. he is here, and he’s real, and you can’t stop the tears from forming. 

hi friends! first post of my work on here <3 i have not posted any of my writing since i was probably 16... pls be nice to me

massive shoutout to @chimivx, thank you for getting me back into it and giving me the courage to post :,) love u forever

anyways i love hongjoong hope u enjoyed xoxo

love, t ｡ ★ • *

[achillyscomedown]

the pain i feel when i think of dps is so bad, but i’m so interested as to why everyone feels this way. why do we all feel genuine loss towards neil? why do we all feel sadness start to grow whenever we think about the movie too much? is it because of how real it felt? how the scenes were shot and the dialogue was read? was it the settings? the actors? perhaps the fact that the story was just a part of their lives and that there was no happy ending? or that we’ve all felt as low as neil has and have all been at that point? when the snow’s falling and the night is chill we’ve all gone down that rabbit hole of thought and wondered how people would react, and his friends’ reactions were so raw and real. the movie properly captures and portrays a certain type of reality that we can relate to, even if we’ve never been there. the heaviness of the topics accompanied by the actor’s acting makes us all live it in such a heartbreaking way. something like this has happened before and will happen a million times more, and we’re helpless to stop it. we were helpless to stop neil, and we’ll be helpless to stop everyone else. hell, even neil’s friends couldn’t save him. i think the fact that neil was this happy, go lucky guy who always had a smile on his face was what hit the most. no one could stop what was coming, and no one truly saw it coming. even throughout the movie todd was the one with the more prominent issues, however neil was the one to step forward and do the unimaginable. neil was trapped and the only way he saw out was, well, out. and everyone can relate to that.

[vivwritesfics]

Keep On Rolling - MV1

Chapter Two

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

2K words

Series Masterlist

Just like the first video, Paddock Pals was a success. The video went up onto the FormulaY/N on the Monday after the Albert Park race day vlog. It was the second most popular video on her channel, with only the original Paddock Pals ahead of it. F1 Twitter loved it.

Y/N already had her next few videos planned. The next video she had spung on a chosen few drivers and they were only happy to join in. That was how she found herself sitting in her hotel room, Max, Charles, Daniel, Lando, Alex, Oscar and Carlos surrounding her. James was in a chair opposite the group, notebook in his lap and camera in his hands.

“Hello everybody and welcome to the FormulaY/N channel,” said Y/N, holding her microphone up to her face. She sat in her hotel room, surrounded by seven Formula One drivers. She had Lando Norris on one side of her and Charles Leclerc on the other.

In front of them were tiny shot glasses and spirits. But, of course, to make any money on youtube, you couldn’t use the A word. Y/N had opted to call it spicy water to ensure she wouldn’t get demonetized.

“Cameraman James has been working through the night to put together a little game show for us. He’s collected some of your favourite Formula One quotes. All we have to do is guess who says what. You get it right, you get a point. You get it wrong…” Y/N picked up her shot glass. “You do one of these. Pretty much, we’re all going to be on the tipsy side by the time we’re finished.”

James turned the camera round to face him. “This started as a who said what game, but I went down a rabbit hole and its become so much more than that. We’ve got Formula One quiz questions, finish the quote, a sing along and more,” he said, holding his notebook up.

He turned the camera back to Y/N. While James had been explaining, she’d began to fill everybody’s shot glass with the… spicy water (which was really just vodka). “If everybody has their spicy water, we can begin,” she said and looked to James, shot glass in hand.

Clearing his throat, James kept his camera steady and looked at his notebook. “Okay, this first question is a who says what. Y/N and I were going to play the clips, but we decided that would be too easy for you all. So, I’ve got to read them out. Right, who said ‘Lando we can be world champions’?”

“Charles!” Y/N said instantly. Everybody else took a shot.

Charles, Lando and Alex pulled face. Everybody else tried to keep their cool, but it wasn’t going very well.

“Everybody ready for the next one?” Asked James as a shiver went down Oscars spine. “Right, who is the youngest driver on the grid?”

“Logan!” Shouted Oscar and Daniel.

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner,” said James. “Or, three winners. Everybody else, drink up.”

Y/N tipped her head back and threw her shot into her mouth. She swallowed, feeling the burn as it went down her throat. “Oh my God,” she cried and coughed.

“Hey, hey, hey! There’s still some in there.” Lando grabbed a hold of Y/N’s shot glass and tipped it to the side, revealing the dregs at the bottom. “Drink up, missy,” he said and passed the glass back to Y/N. Glaring at him, she tipped her head back once more and finished the shop.

“Next, who once said ‘He don’t fok smash my door’ and, for an extra point, who was this person talking about?”

“Guenther about K-Mag?” Asked Alex, sounding unsure.

James nodded his head. Everybody but Alex had their shots. “So, do we have to do a second one now? Or does Alex just get another point?”

Y/N thought for a moment. “How about you take a short or forfeit a point? If you have no points you can minus a point, but the moment you get one that brings you back up to zero,” she suggested.

Three people took the shots, the rest took the points.

The rest of the rounds went by rather quickly. Max got three points and Lando got four, leaving him the most sober out of everybody. Halfway through the video they had to pause. Some drivers went to the toilet, Lando and Max had to reposition things so that Lando was in the middle, hosting and Max was keeping Y/N upright. “Maybe no more for her,” he suggested.

“No! If I lose I have to drink! Those are the rules!” Y/N cried, her speech slurred. She was leaning against Max, her face pressed into his shoulder.

“Do we even keep filming?” Asked James. “It’s not fair to put her on the internet like this.”

Lando thought on it. He knew Y/N better than anybody; it was going to be his call. “She’d kill us if we didn’t get all the footage. When she’s not drunk or hungover she can look through the footage and decide what she wants to keep.”

“You’re the best Landooooooo,” she muttered and sat up straight.

When the game continued, Y/N was barely holding herself up. She had one more shot and that was it, she was finished. When Riccardo got the next question right, she reached for her glass, but Max took it from her before she had the chance.

After that, they cut the camera. Max moved her away from the rest of the group, to sit out of the view of the camera. Lando did her outro for her, but Max stayed sitting with her. He too was drunk, but nowhere near as drunk as Y/N.

After the video was filmed, the other drivers filed out of Y/N’s room. Lando helped put things away so she wouldn’t trip over them in the morning and put a glass of water and a pain killer on the bedside table.

“You coming?” He called to Max as he waited by the door.

Max was still with Y/N. “Uh, no. I’m going to make sure she gets to bed okay,” he said, wobbling ever so slightly on his feet. Lando raised his eyebrows but he took his leave, leaving Y/N in her hotel room with James and Max.

While James put away the camera and stuff (Max wasn’t watching), Max brought Y/N over to the bed. She wasn’t yet in her pyjamas, he realised. Max waited for James to leave the room before helping her into something more comfortable. If he was lucky (and he was always lucky), she wouldn’t remember this the next morning.

Once Max had forced her to have some water and had gotten her under the covers, he began walking towards the door. “Don’t leave me,” he heard her whisper. How could he say no to that? Max let the door close and walked back over to the bed. He sat himself on top of the sheets, a comfortable distance from Y/N. But that gap didn’t last for long. She rolled over in her sleep, rolling closer to Max.

***

"What the hell?" Mumbled a groggy Y/N as she sat up the next morning. Her bed wasn't empty, something she wasn't used to. To make matters worse, her head was pounding.

She looked up at the stranger in her bed and tried to think back to the night before. It could only have been one of the drivers, she realised, and relief flooded her.

And then dread settled in.

The still-sleeping driver rolled over in the bed. "Oh my god," Y/N whispered, trying not to wake him. Nobody quite prepares you on what to do when you wake up in bed with the current world champion.

He was on top of the sheets, at least. As far as Y/N knew, they didn't sleep together. On the table beside Max was an aspirin and water. She needed it, desperately. Her phone was beside it, but not the keycard to her room.

She had to wake him. "Max." She shook his shoulder, waking him up. "Max, where's my keycard?"

Max's eyes fluttered open. He muttered something in Dutch, the same panic washing over his face. He took a moment, just like Y/N had, to check his surroundings. Clothes still on, sleeping on top of the covers. Everything was fine.

He turned around, looking for the keycard. "I left it right here," He said, gesturing to the bedside table. Max passed her the water and aspirin and stood up. He quickly searched for her keycard, placed it back on the bedside table and went to leave the room.

Y/N had to text Lando about this. She'd spent the night sleeping in the same room as Max Verstappen - how could she not tell Lando about this?

No, this was a conversation she was supposed to have in person. She had to find James, go over the footage from the previous night, and then speak to Lando. And maybe apologise to Max for the night before.

Y/N got up from the bed, slowly. She grabbed the water and aspirin from the bedside table and swallowed, willing her pounding headache to go away.

She hadn't been this hungover in a long time. The curtains hadn't been closed the night before and the light was hurting her eyes. She got dressed, put on her sunglasses and left the hotel room.

James’ room was just a few doors down. She walked slowly down the hall and knocked on his door. Leaning her burning forehead against the wall, she waited for James to open the door. When he did, Y/N let out a groan.

“Come on,” James said through a sigh and pulled her into the room. He sat her on the bed and got her another glass of water. “You sober enough to watch the footage from last night?” He asked and Y/N shook her head. But even that hurt. “What do you want then?”

She sucked in a breath. “What happened last night? With Max and I?”

“Oh, nothing,” James answered. “He got a little drunk, you got very drunk so he stayed to help you into bed. I left after that and I was assuming he did too. Now, I’m guessing that’s not the case.”

Y/N shook her head.

“You didn’t…” James touched his thumb to his finger and put another through the hole it created.

Y/N shook her head.

“Good. Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” said James. “If I were you I’d sleep in until the hangover goes and then go out to dinner with my best friend, leaving my cameraman and editor to do his editing,” he said and walked Y/N over to his hotel room door.

Even with her hangover, Y/N didn’t want to go back to her room and do nothing. They were in Miami for the grand prix in a few days; there had to be something more to do than just sitting around.

Y/N aimlessly walked around the hotel. Lando had told her his room number and what floor he was on, but Y/N couldn’t remember. She just had to hope she found someone she recognised. Y/N went from floor to floor and down to the lobby. Nobody, nothing.

In the end she sat opposite the elevator in the plush, comfy lobby chairs. Magazines were beside her, but reading hurt her head.

She was only there for a few minutes before the elevator door opened and out stepped Charles Leclerc.

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka Rules Breakdown! Episode 1 of an Actual Play of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy by the Tiny Table Podcast!

Episode 1 is out now, and you can listen to it right here!

This is the first ever Actual Play of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, so we’re super excited, especially since Tiny Table really puts the “Actual” in “Actual Play.” They may edit out a stutter or bad mic read here and there, but you won’t find any prescripting of character arcs or setpiece events, just them, the rulebook, and the module.

This first episode is only about 15 minutes or so and introduces you to a brief rundown of Eureka’s rules and concepts. If you have been wondering what all the fuss is about with Eureka, but don’t feel like you have the time to download the free beta version and give it a read, then this fifteen-minute rules breakdown might be a great place to start!

The next episode, releasing on Tuesday, August 20th, will be the start of the actual Actual Play. Stay tuned for the Tiny Table crew to tackle FORIVA: The Angel Game, an adventure module for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy.

FORIVA: The Angel Game is a 1990's investigation that sinks deep into a pit of dread and intrigue as the investigators step forward into a bizarre psychological horror mystery - one which may leave them unable to recognize themselves on the other side. To seek out the truth, an investigator must use all their wits and all the resources at their disposal - but only they know if they are ready to fall into the unthinkable rabbit hole that awaits. Stranger and stranger the story shall grow - and stranger still, what will grow in those who follow it.

Somewhere, a mother stares wordlessly at her hospitalized son who doesn’t recognize her, and wonders why this is happening to her family. Somewhere, a private detective smiles as his client offers a generous reward for someone–anyone–to blame for what was done to his children. Somewhere, a young girl tears down the advertisements that were covering up the missing poster of her friend. 

The year is 1999, and society is equal parts optimistic and apprehensive about the new millennium. Fears of the Y2K bug are circulating, Bill Clinton is still in office, and the popularity of video arcades is on the decline.

A rash of hospitalizations and disappearances has struck in Shreveport, Louisiana, with all of the victims so far being teenagers and children. Each case might at first seem unconnected, save for their close proximity in time to one another sending ripples throughout the community. Local news has been covering the story for days now, capitalizing on the fear and uncertainty of concerned parents, something that might seem like a distant problem to each investigator, until it strikes someone they know….

Having already listened to the whole thing ourselves, we can assure you that listeners who stick with it are in for a real great time! Episodes will be coming out each Tuesday, ending with a post-adventure discussion, and then an interview between the Tiny Table team and the A.N.I.M. team!

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but you can still check out the public beta on itch.io to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, etc.!

You can also follow updates on our Kickstarter page where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more, you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy earlier, plus extra content such as adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

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[sluttycinderella]

Razorgate: an empirical, peer reviewed study*

*there is nothing genuinely scientific about this, it is merely a result of mental illness and unemployment.

So we all saw this right?

But after this bomb was dropped I began to get curious about the other slittenings. Did they use the same razor for all of them and no one had noticed? Do they actually own more than one razor? And if they don't, if this is truly the only phrazor, then I don't think I have to tell you that raises a lot of questions.

Firstly, I went back to where this all began, Phil's Birthday stream, to identify the razor that carved the very first slit and forever cemented itself as a part of herstory:

Now that is very clearly the Manscaped logo, no question about it. Here’s a high quality photo of the logo for comparison:

(You can also clearly see in the Twitter post that it says "Manscaped" across it but I like to double check my work and I also wanted to prove that they were both Manscaped)

And it's a good thing I did double check because OP made a CRITICAL ERROR in their post! They claim that the razor in question is the Lawn Mower 4.0 when in fact it's the Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra! Unlike the PUNY, PATHETIC, UNMANLY 4.0, the Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra comes with an interchangeable foil blade, a USB port, and a more advanced spotlight!

How could OP be so careless? Dan and Phil would never own an outdated razor! They require only the finest in ball shaving technology!

Also fun fact: The first appearance of the Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra on the Manscaped YouTube channel falls right in between the dapg return announcement and their first video back so make of that what you will...I for one shall be sculpting my own hill out of the very earth itself, "Manscaped Sponsorship Hill", I encourage you all to join me.

So after spending far too long researching the intricacies of razors that shave an organ I don't even have, I now needed to check if it was the same razor being used in every slittening:

Here they are side by side for comparison, left is Phil’s birthday, middle is the We're All Doomed post-premiere, right is Dan’s birthday. Now it appears the WAD one is missing the logo but I'm going to go ahead and chalk that up to the poor quality of the clip I found (if anyone has a better version PLEASE hit me up so I can confirm my hypothesis). And considering the photo taken in the aftermath seems to show Phil holding the 5.0 Ultra:

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's the same thing.

“But,” I hear you shouting, “so what if Dan and Phil used the same razor for all the streams? They already said they only owned one razor so who cares?” Well this isn’t so much about proving that they’re the same razor as it is establishing a baseline. It’s hard to trust basically anything Dan and Phil say lately, what with piggate and the “pillow” bar and the fake view from the Phouse, knowing that they aren’t lying about only having one razor (to the best of our knowledge) is crucial in figuring out what exactly is going on. Remember, we’re doing science here.

And with that in mind: In my professional opinion, I can say that for all three slittenings, the Manscaped Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra was the weapon of choice.

Sidenote: I went down a bit of a rabbit hole of Manscaped reviews during all of this and apparently Manscaped razors are kind of just a scam. This razor is $109 and they try to trick their customers into subscribing to their "Peak Hygiene Plan" which you don't actually need by offering a deceptive discount and hiding the terms where people aren't likely to see them. So yeah, fuck Manscaped and I for one think we should cancel Dan and Phil for not ethically consuming under capitalism.

But that's beside the point, we know that they indeed only have one razor and that that razor...is for balls. What does that tell us?

Conclusions

There are a multitude of conclusions one could jump to in the light of such a revelation, I shall display them in a convenient numbered list for your viewing pleasure:

One of them prefers to use straight (lol) razors to shave their...you know...I don't actually know if this is a thing people do or if it's even possible, people with balls please sound off in the comments, thank you

Only one of them actually shaves in which case I support them as an infamous pussy hair enthusiast (iykyk)

They share a razor (Please, God, no, that's actually disgusting)

Either way, this thing was on someone's balls and then it touched both their faces so I really hope they cleaned it properly!

Alright, so that whole exploration may have been a bit useless, it indeed only confirmed what we had already been told, but I spent literal hours comparing photos of ball hair trimmers and I'm not one to admit defeat. Consider yourselves peer reviewed, Dan and Phil, and maybe check out Beardscape instead! Apparently they have better, more comprehensive razors for the same price.

If anyone even more demon than me has any corroborating evidence (maybe of them using straight razors at any point or anything else razor related that they've said in the past) please let me know so I can take it into consideration! Thank you all for your time.

[icyminghao]

look at me

pairing: jeonghan x gn!reader genre: fluff, some angst(?), college!au warning(s): none word count: 1.2k

summary: you’ve been noticing that jeonghan never fails to maintain eye contact with everyone he converses with. everyone but you, that is.

In your past year of interacting with and being around a certain Yoon Jeonghan from Mass Communications, you’ve noticed that he loves eye contact.

He maintains intense eye contact in every conversation, one that would definitely render you speechless had you been the receiver of his undivided attention.

Which is why this whole… thing has increasingly become evidence of Yoon Jeonghan’s possible dislike towards you.

From what you’ve noticed, Jeonghan holds eye contact with everyone he’s speaking with, but not you.

You’ve tried asking his best friend, Jisoo, if he’d experienced something similar and whether it was normal, to which he’d just let out an awkward laugh and told you to “Go ask him yourself”, much to your dismay.

But then again, you’re probably overthinking. Right?

“What are you thinking about?”

As if on cue, Wonwoo shows up at just the right time to ground you before you start spiraling down a rabbit hole of self-doubt.

“You know what I’m thinking about,” you sigh, sending Wonwoo a tight-lipped smile.

“Jeonghan again, huh?” Wonwoo chuckles, eyes trailing after the man of the hour from across the bar, having the time of his life with his two best friends in tow. Beside you, Soonyoung nearly spits out his drink at whatever had just come out of Wonwoo’s mouth.

“Yoon Jeonghan? y/n, you like—”

“Soonie, no!” you lightly hit Soonyoung on his forearm, and he dramatically winces in pain like you’d just delivered a killing blow to his arm, “I just… think he doesn’t like me.”

“What? Why? He’s—”

“It’s stupid,” you cut Soonyoung off before he can complete his sentence. Soonyoung simply stares at you, and you sigh.

“Well, um, you know how he always maintains eye contact with whoever he’s speaking?” Soonyoung raises an inquisitive eyebrow, but nods anyway, prompting you to continue, “I’ve been realising recently that he just doesn’t seem to want to look at me every time we talk.”

An eerie silence engulfs the three of you, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Soonyoung’s head, making you all the more insecure.

“Let me get this straight,” Soonyoung speaks up after what feels like a long while, holding back laughter, “You think that loverboy over there doesn’t like you because he refuses to make eye contact with you?”

“I told you it was stupid!” you groan, resting your head on your hands, “Wonwoo, help me here!”

“Well, it is pretty stupid,” Wonwoo shrugs, patting your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“He doesn’t hate you, y/n,” Soonyoung pipes up, practically exploding from where he’s seated. “It’s quite the opposite, really-”

“What’s quite the opposite?” you remove your head from your hands to be greeted with the sight of Seungcheol coming up to stand in front of the three of you, Jeonghan and Jisoo in tow.

“Hyung! My man,” Soonyoung raises his voice in excitement, and you wince a little at the sheer volume as they both greet each other with a hug.

As usual, Jeonghan’s eyes are trained on anything but you, and you can’t help but notice that he’s being a little more fidgety than usual, bouncing on the balls of his feet and playing with his fingers all while Seungcheol and Soonyoung are quite literally acting like nobody else is around them watching their interaction.

“Anyway, we’re here because Jeonghan… has something to say to y/n,” Seungcheol turns to us and explains with a teasing lilt in his voice, and Jeonghan’s cheeks darken ever so slightly under the dim lighting of the club.

“He does? That’s literally such a coincidence, we were just talk—”

“Let’s go, Soonyoung, I just saw Jihoon over there,” Wonwoo cups a hand over Soonyoung’s mouth before he can complete his sentence, practically dragging him away from the conversation.

Seungcheol and Jisoo, too, bid their awkward goodbyes, each lightly punching Jeonghan on his shoulder before leaving the two of you behind. Alone.

For awhile, the two of you simply stand there in silence, and you can only hope and pray for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Um—”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Jeonghan cuts you off as you speak, and your eyes widen a little at his cold tone.

“Oh, I—” you shrink into yourself, willing yourself to stay calm.

“No! Wait, I meant—” Jeonghan leans forward, taking a deep breath, “Seungcheol and Jisoo put me up for this for no reason.”

“So it’s a joke?” you scoff, raising an incredulous eyebrow at Jeonghan as the embers of rage grow inside of you.

“No! I—” Jeonghan’s eyes widen, immediately shaking his head to refute before you cut him off.

“Do you hate me, Jeonghan?”

“What? No, I- I don’t hate you, y/n,” Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, you refuse to look at me every time we talk, and now you’re- you’re doing this and making me confused and- I don’t know what to think, Jeonghan.” you bite back, growing more and more annoyed by the second

“Look, I-” Jeonghan pauses, seemingly trying to gather the right words, “I don’t hate you, y/n. I could never.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Jeonghan holds a hand up, continuing, “I’m just— I usually know what to do, okay? Usually, it’d be the other way around, and you’d be the one as flustered as I am right now, but you’re- you’re different. I’ve… had a crush on you ever since we met through Wonwoo and I just… couldn’t hold a conversation with you long enough without chickening out and just ended up trying as much as possible not to interact with or look at you so I don’t make a fool of myself and I guess… you saw it as me hating you and no, that’s not true, it’s far from it even, I—”

Jeonghan is cut off as you lean forward to press the tiniest of kisses on his lips to shut him up, and his eyes widen in response.

“I like you too, Jeonghan,” you flash him the softest of smiles, and he just looks right back at you blankly, still trying to process what had just happened, much to your endearment.

“You… do?” you nod. “But… I was so horrible to you.”

“You didn’t mean it, did you?” you reply, and Jeonghan shakes his head immediately. “I didn’t, but—”

“Well, then, you could make up for it by taking me on a date,” you cut him off, surprising both him and yourself at your boldness. Jeonghan flashes the cutest shade of red, before nodding determinedly.

“We should get back to the boys,” wrapping your arms around Jeonghan, you start leading him towards where the boys have gathered from across the club, filled with newfound hope for your blossoming relationship with Jeonghan, “They haven’t stopped looking at us since they left.”

BONUS:

“And then he told me to— Hannie, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Jeonghan simply chuckles from beside you as you pause your rambling, furrowing your brows at him.

“You’re staring. What happened to refusing to look at me, hm?” you lean towards him, taunting.

“Well, that made you think I hated you, so I’ve gotta ramp up the eye contact to make sure you know how much I love you, babe.” Jeonghan leans forward too, resting his forehead on yours.

“You’re so cheesy,” you lightly punch his chest, giggling.

“Only for you, babe.”

a/n: hi i’m back! i hope this was okay, i struggled with jeonghan’s characterisation but i thought a flustered him would be cute ><

taglist: @xomingyu @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro @chanceonceli

masterlist

[fleurriee]

— stress reliever ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; your mate never took to stress well - but you couldn’t deny that it was a good look on him. so, when he comes home with a weight on his shoulders, you allow him to take it out on you.

word count ; 2.5k

themes ; smut, fluff, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; explicit content: dom!neteyam, scenting, pussy playing, p in v, let me know if there’s anything else..?

author’s note ; i really don’t know how i feel about this... but we’re gonna role with it. it got quite fluffy at the end bc this is still neteyam we’re talking about & that beautiful boy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.

main masterlist   request a fic!

Crouched against the floor, you hummed a quiet tune to yourself - your songcord created by yourself, waiting for more words added on with each achievement in your life. Your hands worked tenderly against the objects you were rearranging in front of you, originally believing that it was time for a new look within your tent. 

There wasn’t much else for you to do, after all - you’d prepared your dinner for that night, all it now needed was the heat from the awaiting fire; you’d spent a good amount of time with both Kiri and Tuk, the former wanting your presence next to you as she worked with her grandmother, and the latter wanting you to play whatever she randomly wanted to on that day. You didn’t mind spending your day with little random bits like this, because it was nice to not have to stress over so much weighing down upon your shoulders... unlike your mate.

Several times since moving in together, Neteyam had come home stressed out of his mind - whether it was from the actions of that day, or any upcoming day, it didn’t matter. Neteyam always took everyone’s blame as the older brother, wanting the rest of the clan to see that he would make a good Olo’eyktan one day. And, despite the way he hated the feeling of being distressed, he continued to do it. 

You only hoped today he’d come home happier. 

You were just finishing the end of your songcord, about to start it over again when you heard pounding footsteps from behind you. Turning around, you watched as your mate stormed through the entrance of your tent, hands clenched at his sides and brows furrowed in clear anger. He was mumbling and grumbling under his breath, shaking his head side to side and eyes casted down as you could only hear fucking Lo’ak escape his laboured breathing.

Neteyam had spent the day with the war party, helping his father train the younger hunters for the moment they’d be taking on more challenging tasks to help protect the clan. By both his actions and the cursing of his younger brother, you could only guess that Lo’ak had done something stupid, therefore causing everything else to fall like dominoes, and there was no doubt in your mind Neteyam probably took the blame. 

With your ears high on your head, you moved slowly as you stood up, disregarding your previous task and walking calmly over towards him. “Neteyam?” you questioned, voice soft so as not to startle him too much. You knew he’d never hurt you - he’d rather die before he ever thought about hurting you - but you knew he could set himself off, not wanting to him to spiral down a rabbit hole of despair. “Ma ‘teyam, is everything-”

Your words were cut off so abruptly that you felt the breath hitch in your throat, your legs suddenly leaving the ground as a gasp emanated from your lips. Warm, rough hands grasped themselves against the backs of your thighs, forcefully wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you close to his chest. He squeezed your soft flesh, your arms holding tightly onto your mate’s shoulders as you stayed suspended in the air. 

In one swift movement, Neteyam had mercilessly untied the knots of your loincloth, movements hurried and fervent, before throwing the material somewhere unknown within your tent to the both of you, without a care for its disregard. At his actions, you couldn’t help the tightening within your core. 

“Need you, my yawne (beloved),” his voice rasped, forcing his head between the junction of your neck and shoulder, leaving teasing bites against your skin. “So fucking stressed, need your body - need your pussy.”

You felt your heat clench around nothing when his rushed words left his mouth and into the warmth of your skin. A whimper left your mouth as his hands squeezed your thighs again, leaving a lingering slap against your cheek. 

“Do you want me to take it out on you?” he questioned harshly, voice low in the back of his throat, sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to fuck you senseless, let me fuck all my anger into you?”

A whine, loud and clear, tore through the air, your body subconsciously moving closer to his own, grinding against his abs for some friction. You were so desperate for him, so needy for him, that you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, mind so foggy, lustful, and full of him.

He left another harsh slap against your ass, rubbing his head further into your neck as he drowned himself in your scent, allowing his own to pore into you, too. “Need you to use your words, my muntxa (mate).”

Swallowing carefully, you attempted to collect your words. You nod your head, your legs tightening around him. “Ye-yes, ma ‘teyam. Please.”

He brought one of his hands around, snaking its way in between your unbelievably close bodies, keeping you firmly in place with just his another one. You could feel his fingers dance teasingly as they lowered further and further down, gasping loudly when you felt the sensation of his cold fingers against your warmth. Neteyam began to rub gentle circles, eliciting a hiss from you, a smirk bubbling up in his throat at your reaction, tail curling around your ankle.

“What do you want, narlor (beautiful)?” His fingers continued their painfully slow pace, knowing that it would drive you over the edge and have you begging - exactly what he wanted. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You were quick with your words, desperate, lusting for more, for all of him. “You, ‘teyam,” you breath out softly, rubbing your cheek against the top of his head, somehow bringing him all the more closer. “I want you to fuck me.”

A chuckle painted tight against your skin sent you shivering, his fingers moving away from your core and leaving you whimpering at the loss of contact. He loved the way you submitted to him so easily, giving him exactly what he wanted - he loved to hear you beg and plead for more.

He didn’t say anything else - he didn’t have to. In one swift movement, his own loincloth was lying on the floor, his eager and impatient emotions getting the better of him before his entire length was free, slapping softly against your lower stomach as it twitched in anticipation. 

The feeling of him being so close, yet too far had you grinding against him again, his cock rubbing against your skin. Your hands tightened around his neck, fingers cleaving at his hair and pulling. A groan tumbled into your ears at your actions, a faint laugh escaping your lips at the reaction you could garner from your mate. 

But, it was taken away from you the moment you had it. He roughly planted his lips against your own, moving forcefully as your teeth clashed and tongues fought for dominance in a messy show of love. Neteyam wasn’t typically dominant when it came to sex, rather just making love to you the way he knew best - but when he got stressed, he wanted complete and utter control over you. 

And, you loved giving it to him, giving all of you to do whatever he pleased, but you also enjoyed teasing him. You enjoyed making him work for it, pushing so close to the edge he was moments away from snapping, because you knew, in the end, he’d fuck you until you were stuttering, breathless mess.

Hands returning to gripping your ass, squeezing more harshly then ever to show off the power dynamic he was craving, he continued to kiss you, wanting you to lose your breath but have you begging for more. When you pulled away from one another, lips swollen and eyes hooded, Neteyam made sure to keep his attention solely on you when he slammed his lips into your own, forcefully pushing himself inside of you.

On a normal occasion, Neteyam would take his time with you, making sure you were well taken care of and ready for him before bothering with himself. It wasn’t like you needed it, however - since mating, the two of you had had sex too many times to count, too loved up and adoring of one another that you simply couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Now, you knew one another’s bodies like they were your own.

So, when Neteyam’s entire length pushed itself in you, completely bottoming out, a silent scream tore at your throat, eyes clasped shut, mouth agape and head hung back at how good it felt. You were sure there was nothing better in the entire world than the feeling of having Neteyam inside you, the warmth that blistered your body inside and out, the feeling of being full. You loved it.

Neteyam wasted no time in his movements, moving at full speed and not giving you a chance to adjust. He was angry, pent-up emotions getting the better of him as his eyes glazed over and all he could think about was fucking you senseless. He kept his grip firm on you, jaw clenched and eyes hardened as he watched your every reaction. 

With his cock kissing your cervix so intensely, you tightened your entire body around him, arms and legs moving yourself impossibly closer to him. Lewd noises filled up your tent, the mixture of Neteyam’s grunts, your moans, and your wetness beginning to gush out on your mate’s cock combining together as one, you were sure the whole clan could hear.

But, you found yourself not caring. You almost wanted people to hear - wanted them to know how good your mate treated you, how good he made you feel. You wanted them to know you were entirely his.

Another low grunt fell from Neteyam’s lips, his head beginning to fall back and eyes screwing shut at the pure bliss and pleasure consuming him. He loved the feeling of your body clawing closer to his, loved the feeling of your head burying into the crook of his neck as you whimpered lovingly, the sound music to his ears. 

Everything was becoming too much - you could feel yourself reaching closer and closer to the edge, whining submissively for more. “Nete-” you stuttered, not quite getting the correct words out, mind foggy and hazy. “Neteyam.” A guttural moan pierced through the atmosphere alongside his name, the two sounds coming together as he started to hit a specific part inside of you, spongy and warm and perfect. 

Neteyam forced his head forwards again as he continued pounding relentlessly into you, one hand grabbing the back of your hair and pulling it back so your faces were in front of one another, noses touching and breaths mingling. You were a panting mess, words jumbled and unsure - obvious signs that you were close to cumming. 

“You want to cum, my muntxa (mate)?” he asked, mouth wide open as he whispered the words into your own gaping mouth. Little whines were his only response, the sound sending warmth to both his heart and to his cock. “Hmm? You want to cum all over my cock?”

His words sent vibrations running through your entire system, from the bottoms of your toes all the way to your mind, your thoughts running wild. You could feel your tail beginning to shiver, too, another sign that the pleasure you were experiencing was too good, that you were close.

You nodded pathetically at his questions, desperate for him to give you exactly what you wanted. There was a brief moment where you wondered whether he’d stop so suddenly, ripping you away from your orgasm and making you start all over again just because he could. But, his anger was so prevalent, so built-up inside of him that he didn’t have the energy to be doing that - he just wanted to feel you as you let yourself go all over him like the good girl you were.

Your nod and whines were enough of an answer for him. “Then, cum,” he demanded, teeth gritting sharply and fangs pointing menacingly as he picked up speed, his balls slapping against your folds, willing you to cum. “Cum, my muntxa (mate).”

In an instant, you were completely sent over the edge, all mushy and whimpering and shaking as you came down form your high. You could feel Neteyam’s own release filling up your insides, too, painting your walls and swallowing his gravelly moan. His pounding didn’t stop, but it did cease, ensuring that you were both fully satisfied and his cum stayed inside of you exactly where it belonged.

With slow movements, you continued to pant into his mouth, lips messily attempting to kiss one another, sweaty foreheads coming in contact as you rubbed your noses together. The silence that ensued was welcoming, comforting, just the sounds of your aftermath and the scent of the two of you lingering against one another - heaven.

Neteyam continued to hold you in his arms, making sure you were safe in his grasp but softening his hold. He began to caress your skin lovingly, placing a tender kiss against your lips. You found your head leaning more towards his own once he pulled away, not wanting him to part so soon. “Are you okay?” he questioned, the fast-paced situation finally catching up to him. “I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

A blissful smile played at your lips, loving how he could switch from two different types of dominant in the matter of seconds - fucking you until your thoughts were filled of nothing but his cock, and making sure you were safe and rightfully cared for. Your eyes were still hooded and clouded when you responded, so quiet it was almost inaudible. “No, you were perfect.” Unwrapping one of your hands from around his neck, your cradled his jaw, your thumb rubbing gently under his eye. “Are you okay now?”

He chuckled at your question, understanding that you were insinuating to his stressed-out state when he first came home. Shaking his head, he smiled down at you adoringly. “Much better now, thanks to you.” He noticed your unsure expression, knowing how you’d rather him talk about his problems to you so he wasn’t keeping them entirely to himself. To ease you, he continued to rub your noses together, basking in your euphoric scent. “I’ll tell you about it later... right now, I just want you.”

Still snuggled in his arms, you allowed him to walk the two of you over to your mat in the corner, sitting down first so you could lay comfortably on top of him. The sensation of still having his cock stuffed inside your walls was warming to you, keeping your hands securely around his neck and burying you head further into his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. 

It wasn’t long until you were flat-out, your intimate actions having completely exhausted you. Neteyam stayed awake for a little longer, listening to your comforting breathing as the stress dispersed from his body entirely. There wasn’t anything better than being with you - in any way possible, he wasn’t picky - your demeanour having the wonderful ability to soothe him, to bring him back down to earth. 

Neteyam couldn’t have asked for a better mate - and he thanked Ewya everyday for blessing him with you. 

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Nine. Alternate Reveal.

this was the reveal I was going to go for, before I changed it for the one you read in the chapter. this one just didn’t feel as personal, or as connected, if you get me. but I hope you enjoy this - a glimpse into my writing process, I suppose. <3

series masterlist. chapter nine.

You can’t find your way out, and it’s making you panic more.

You’re throwing doors open, running down sets of stairs. Eventually, you see an exit, and barge through it with no regard for your surroundings. You’re at the front of the hospital, somehow making it to the main entrance.

Your lungs feel like they’re burning, white hot heat filling them with each weak inhale that you manage. The world is turning, suddenly, the entire axis of the Earth shifting on its head. Gasping, you grab onto a railing, desperate to just take a full breath and calm down.

The more you try to breathe, the worse things seem to get. It feels like the non existent walls are closing in, claustrophobia settling into your weary bones. Your legs buckle as your surroundings spin.

You don’t even register the impact of your knees hitting the ground, nor feel the pain that follows. You’re only minutely aware that you’re even on the floor because you can feel the warm tarmac underneath your palms.

A manicured hand finds its way onto your arm. You can’t feel the sensation, but you can see a person out of the corner of your eye. She’s wearing navy blue scrubs, her hair pulled back, nails painted bright magenta with glitter on them.

“Darlin’?”

When all you can do is pant, she tries again.

“Sweetheart? It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re having a panic attack.”

You’d think the diagnosis would calm you down, but it does nothing to comfort your racing heart. You feel as if you’re spiralling, falling down a rabbit hole with no signs of light.

She squeezes your shoulders firmly, kneading the tense muscles.

“We’re gonna focus on your breathing, alright? Copy me, copy exactly what I do. In, out. In, out.”

She takes big, exaggerated breaths as you do your best to imitate her. She nods, smiling, encouraging you to keep going. After what feels like an eternity, you manage to stop hyperventilating.

“There we go. I’m Lulu, I’m a nurse here. Can you tell me your name?”

You choke it out as she looks at you softly.

“That’s a pretty name. Are you a patient here, or are you visiting someone?”

You feel faint still, your surroundings spinning.

“My Dad’s here,” you whisper. “Emergency surgery.”

“Ah. That’s super scary, huh?”

All you can do is nod, eyes focused on the way her wedding ring glints in the sunlight.

“Are you here with anyone else, or are you by yourself?”

You only really catch half of what she’s saying, still disoriented.

“My soulmate is upstairs,” you say quietly, hoping you’ve answered her question correctly.

“And what’s his name?”

“Bucky.”

She smiles, squeezing your shoulders again.

“Have you been Tethered for long?”

You shake your head, before debating it.

“Almost a couple of years.”

“You’re still newbies! That’s so exciting. I’ve been married to mine for nineteen years. Feels like no time at all - it flies by.”

You try to muster a smile. It’s weak, but it’s there.

“Which department is your Dad in, honey?”

“Cardiology. Room four.”

“Perfect. I’m gonna go grab Bucky and bring him down here, okay? I’d happily sit with you all day, trust me, but I can’t. I’ll be right back.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Lulu practically runs up the stairs, determined to find the family of the sweet girl in distress. She sees a lot of herself in you, and her heart aches.

She eyes Room 4, knocking gently before popping her head around the door.

“I’m so sorry to barge in. Is there a Bucky here?”

He stands up quickly, nodding.

“Yeah. That’s me.”

“Ah. Hi, Bucky,” she smiles. “I have your soulmate sat outside. She had a panic attack, and I found her on the ground. She’s alright, but could really use you right now.”

It’s as if time stands still, as soon as the words leave her mouth.

“…soulmate?” Lori asks, looking between Bucky and the nurse.

Lulu says your name, and Bucky’s heart stops in his chest.

He’s bolting out of the room before anyone can ask any more questions.

His only priority is you.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.8 K Warnings: None Prompt: It's finally time to test Peter's theory? Will all the cuddles be worth for something or will things end terribly wrong? It is time for Vixen to face Moony. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovelies: @aremuslupinsimp and @nagareboshi-chiyo (for the French <3)

Chapter 39: Running With the Pack

Wednesday, December 22nd. 5:37 PM

As you leaned closer to the dark tunnel that had once haunted you, you took a deep breath and stared into the vast darkness. You had run through it so many times in your dreams, crawled out of it as you were chased by a giant wolf about ready to turn you to shreds, broken your nails as you dug your fingers through the dirt and now, now you would slide down, and walk all the way to the wolf’s den, willingly. 

What once had been scary, keeping you awake at night in fear of going back to it, was now drawing you in, a magnetism so strong it was almost irresistible. You took a deep breath and then smiled, greeting the darkness like an old friend rather than a foe, and letting yourself fall down the dark rabbit hole that would take you to the wolf. But not just any wolf, to Moony. Your best friend Moony. Your Moony. 

The beautiful wolf you had had the grace of witnessing once before you had to run from it, the large creature with claws as sharp as honed blades and fangs that could pierce skin as one might tear through a fragile sheet of paper, eyes so sharp they could follow you through the forest before you even had enough time to think of an escape route– but they were kind too. Golden and dangerous and beautiful. They shone with the kindness of your friend, of the man behind the sleek coat of fur that shimmered with the moonlight. The eyes of the soft-spoken boy that smelled of chocolate and old books, of the one that had been kind enough to show you through the school and cheered you up after a rough day after merely days of meeting you. 

They called you insane for throwing your wand on the floor as the wolf advanced on you, but you had not been looking at the wolf then, you had been looking at him, at your best friend. That had gotten you almost killed, seeing the beauty in chaos might be a noble trait, but a dangerous one nonetheless. 

You now knew what a terrible idea that had been, Remus had not spared a chance to remind you of your recklessness, and perhaps you needed it, being mesmerised by the wolf was not an excuse for getting murdered. Either way, you’d be lying if you said the prospect of seeing the wolf up close –even as Vixen– wasn’t exciting. 

“Sirius?” you whispered, he was a few steps ahead, walking with his wand held high and a Lumos charm. James was just a few steps behind and Peter had gotten ahead as Wormtail, to make sure Remus was still Remus when you got there.  

“Yeah, Luv?” he asked. 

“Are we too far?” you asked and revised your clock “It’s 6:00 pm already, and the moon comes out in about a quarter of an hour.” 

You had never walked through the tunnel, you had only ran through it, and you would be lying if you said that it didn’t feel much longer now than it did back then. Not that the path hadn’t felt eternal while you were running and throwing spells at Moony, but you were rather certain that that had to do a lot more with your own perception of time than time itself. 

“We’re less than 5 minutes away,” James responded, he too had been keeping an eye on the clock, trying to make sure that things would be alright. 

Sirius slowed his pace until he reached beside you and whispered, “Nox,” over his wand, he placed a hand over your shoulders, drawing you close to him as he pointed deeper into the tunnel, “See that light reflection?” he asked. You nodded in response. “It’s the door you blew up last time you were here.” 

You looked at him with a frown and then back at the place he was pointing at, Remus must have told him, you realised as you saw it, and you picked up your pace, almost sprinting towards it. Sirius turned to James who gave him a shrug and the two boys ran behind you. 

You reached the door just under two minutes later, and you brushed your hand over the hinges, “You fixed it?” you asked as you turned to the boys, who were just behind you. 

“Peter and I did, when we brought Remus over after the last moon,” James responded. 

“It was in an awful condition,” you replied, remembering the Bombarda you had used and how many of the pieces of the door had flown about the room, you were pretty sure you had turned it to shreds. 

“Yeah,” James agreed with a diverted smile.

You looked at the door a little closer now and located the thick bar of metal that held it in place, you brought your hand under it and started pushing it up. There was a click and the door snapped open, Remus was on the other side, he was leaning on a bed, bouncing one of his legs up and down while looking right ahead. He turned to you shortly after and seemed relieved to see everyone there. Peter was still Wormtail, and he was sleeping on a worn-out pillow on the floor. He hadn’t been sleeping well that week, staying up late to work on the final projects he had left for the last minute (It had been all of them). 

You walked forwards and sat beside Remus on the edge of the bed, “How are we feeling?”, you asked. James sat beside you and Sirius had plopped down on the floor, staring up at the three of you. 

“Fantastic!” he said sarcastically. 

You pushed him with your shoulder lightly, having him crash against James, “Don’t be such a downer.” 

“You can still leave.” 

You let yourself fall back into the mattress. “No thanks.” 

Sirius laughed from the floor and considered whether it would be a good or a bad idea to jump on top. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too clever, at least not with how nervous Remus was. 

Remus sighed with your reply, “But what if it doesn’t work?” 

“It will,” Sirius reassured. 

“But what if it doesn’t?” 

“Then we go for plan B,” you responded as if it was the simplest course of action. 

“What if you’re not fast enough?” 

“Werewolves don’t eat animals,” you said. 

“No, but we can kill them,” Remus muttered as he remembered the time he had killed a squirrel that had walked close to his cage when he was 7. He had cried about it for weeks and even asked his parents to bury her in the garden. He called her Juliette, since his mom had been reading Romeo and Juliette to lull him to sleep back then and he knew she would die in the end. 

“Remus!” you whined as you bumped your knee into his, “Drop the negativity, would you?” 

It’s not that you didn’t have doubts of your own, but it was easier to ignore them and be brave about it if he was not repeating all the ways that things could go wrong over and over again. 

“Sorry,” he said. 

James let himself fall on the bed, imitating your earlier action, “I’m sure it will work,” he said, “Besides you’ve been doing research about it, right Vix?” 

“I think I read more about werewolves and wolves this past month than I did for classes,” you sighed.

“I can confirm that,” Sirius said, he’d been going to the library with you too, and he’d read just as much. 

You had also talked to Damocles and asked him about the potion, to use as a failsafe in case the plan didn’t work, he said he was still working on it but that he hoped he’d have it ready at some point next year. He had also given you all his notes on werewolves since you had asked if he had anything other than the ones he’d given you at first, and while those had been useful to learn about Moony, none of them helped you either prove or refute your theory. 

“Right,” Remus said as he started bouncing his leg again. And then he bent down a little bit. When he looked up at Sirius, his eyes were completely golden. James stood up and turned into Prongs in the blink of an eye, standing defensively as he stared at Remus. Remus was now clawing at his own shirt to try and take it off, last time he had ripped it to shreds and he didn’t want the same thing to happen to this one. Sirius stood forward and helped him get it off. 

You saw, this time even more than the last, how his skin started to rip, but you also got a small glimpse of his muscly back, and while the potion had already worn off, you’d be lying if you said he didn’t have a very nice and defined one. 

“Turn,” he said as he placed his hands on his pants. You instantly turned your head to the wall. 

“Into Vixen!” Sirius said, almost laughing at your instant reaction. Remus would have laughed too if he hadn’t been busy trying to hold back the cries of pain that threatened to leave his mouth.

“You too,” he said as he looked at Sirius who had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s fine,” Sirius countered. You were already Vixen, and you were still looking at the wall, tail waving restlessly as you heard Remus whimper. “I’ll do it right before you’re Moony.” 

“Sirius,” Remus said as he tightened his jaw to hold back another groan and ended up stifling a whimper instead. 

“You’re not going to change my mind,” he said as he helped Remus kneel on the floor. 

“Sirius.” 

“I’ve got it under control.” 

But I don’t, Remus thought as he tightened his fist on the floor, scratching the wood with his nails, which were a lot more claws than nails themselves.

“Sirius!” 

“Moony, we’ve been through this, just let me help,” Sirius insisted as he tightened his grip on Remus’ shoulder, reassuringly. 

Remus huffed and turned to Sirius angrily, his eyes were menacingly golden now. But Sirius held his stare, a reassuring smile on his face as he tightened the grip on his shoulder again and sent Remus a wink. Remus would have scoffed if he’d had the chance, but he ended up just bending over a bit more and letting his head fall over Sirius’s shoulder, who was now helping to hold him up. Remus would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the closeness to Sirius. There was something about his hand on his bare back and the feel of his curls crashing against his face, that was dreadfully comforting. 

If only he could bask in those feelings at any moment other than when he was about to turn into a fucking werewolf. He couldn’t though, because those hands, those curls and those beautiful lips of his belonged to someone else. To the pretty fox waving her tail desperately on the bed as she struggled to not turn her head. But then he felt it, the Wolf gnawing at him and taking his agency away, locking him up in the cage of his mind, his last ounce of control slipping away. 

“Siri-us…” His voice broke near the end. And you couldn’t take it anymore you turned your head to look at the two boys and barked as Sirius. Your best friend’s face was already turning into a snout, but Sirius looked awfully calm as he held him between his arms.

You barked again, now more desperately and jumped towards Sirius, pulling at his shirt with your snout. Remus tried to push you away so that you weren’t that close to the wolf when he came about but his hand was no longer a hand anymore and his paw ended up accidentally bopping your head. You looked at him reproachfully and barely managed to make out his wince. You barked again, and this time Sirius actually listened, he turned into a Padfoot and seconds later, Moony let out a shrieking howl, no wonder that’s what they called this place. 

Moony stood straight and imposing, last time you had tried to escape from him as a fox, you hadn’t had time to actually see him, too busy running the hell away. But this time around, you could see how much more bigger and imposing he looked to Vixen, as if he wasn’t imposing enough to you already. 

At first, Moony seemed disoriented, but then he spotted Padfoot, who stood just a few feet from him and he howled again, this time around a much more playful one. The black dog imitated him and then Moony jumped his way, raising his front paws and letting them fall over Pads who barked happily. Moony was nibbling on Pads’ left ear while the dog continued to bark excitedly. And then, he spotted you. 

He stopped the nibbling and tilted his head to the side as if analysing the intruder. He narrowed his eyes at you and bared his teeth, growling lightly as if telling you to step away, he felt Padfoot tense underneath as he too turned to you, but the dog had a worried face instead of a menacing one. 

Every single instinct on your fox self was telling you to run. To find a small nook in a wall and crawl inside of it like you had done the previous moon. Alarms blaring in your brain loudly urging you to step away, to pull back, to hide. But you held your stance, you knew the wolf was trying to scare you because he didn’t recognize you, and it was his immediate reaction. He probably remembered you from the last moon too, the fox that had gotten away. 

But this time around you weren’t planning to run from him, you’d held your stance until he leaned forward curiously, or until he did it intending to eat. You pulled your head a little higher and he barked at Padfoot, a simple question: «Who is she?»

Padfoot barked a much simpler answer in return «A friend».

The wolf narrowed his eyes at Padfoot now and slipped his paws off the black dog’s back. You were so used to how big Padfoot was in comparison to Vixen, that seeing the wolf standing right beside him, with the staggering difference between Pads and Moony –who was much bigger and much more imposing– was a little daunting, but you fought the urge to flee, imposing yourself over Vixen’s more animal side.  

The wolf tilted his head again and started walking in your direction, one paw after the other, looking every bit like the regal beast of the night it was. You found yourself resisting the urge to step back again, looking at the wolf and tilting your own head slightly to the side. You didn’t say a thing but it was clear what you meant «I’m not afraid of you». 

Moony snarled again, baring his teeth at you «Your heartbeat says otherwise».

You barked this time «Try me». Padfoot intervened this time around and barked a warning to you. And you held your tongue from barking anything else, regardless you were looking at Moony attentively, keeping your stance as calm as possible. 

The wolf walked close enough to tower over you, and you stood still, he leaned his head down, leaning on his front paws to level it with Vixen’s, and he stared. 

You held his stare again, a lot calmer now that you could see his eyes, there he is, hidden beneath the fur, your friend. You could always see Remus through Moony’s eyes. The wolf noticed your change in demeanour, not understanding why the closer he was the calmer you seemed to be. You leaned your head forward a little and bumped your snout with his much bigger one in a teasing manner and he pulled back with a frown.

«Careful», Padfoot barked. You ignored him, deciding to tease the wolf a little further as you jumped forward and bit one of his legs playfully.

Moony looked as scandalised as a wolf could, his features conveying a mix of confusion and irritation in the face of such unexpected audacity. How could this tiny little animal tease him like such, he was sure he could split you in half in one bite. Not that he wanted to, he was too curious to do it. Regardless, he reacted like you would expect any apex predator to react when bothered; he used his head to push you away from him, you rolled about half a metre to the side and ended up, belly-facing the ceiling as the wolf stalked towards you and snarled. 

Padfoot seemed just about to jump in your defence when Moony threw him a warning look and bared his teeth at him just like he had done to you, now vulnerably underneath him. 

Padfoot barked again, «friend» he reminded Moony.

He huffed in return and turned to look at you, your eyes locked with Padfoot’s who seemed to be telling you to stand back, but you knew whatever relationship you managed to develop with Moony forward, strongly depended on how you acted today with him, you had seen how playful he had been to Pads, perhaps you could have a similar experience.

You turned back to look at Moony who was looking at you with curiosity as if he was still trying to decipher your character, and you used one of your paws to hit his snout in a playful manner. He pulled back and snarled, you did it again and barked. When you tried to do it again, he held your paw in between his sharp teeth. Not biting strong enough to break skin.

You heard Prong’s hooves crashing on the floor, as if he was ready to push Moony off of you, but everyone held their place. You had all agreed on a sign, a rather specific scream that foxes could make, and they had to stand back if you didn’t make said sound or they thought danger was imminent. 

You, on the other hand, looked like you were having fun as you teased the menacing wolf. You leapt forward enough to lightly bite his snout and he let your paw go in surprise, pulling back again as he stared at you. 

What was that? She smelled… familiar. 

«Friend?» he barked. 

«Friend» Padfoot confirmed. 

Moony leaned down closer to you again, his snout close to yours as he took in the way you smelled. He frowned, he was sure he had never been close enough for you to smell like him and yet, you did. Was it some kind of trick? Had you also tricked his friends? He pulled back, and stared, circling around as you turned back on your heels in the most playful of movements and sat on your back legs as an obedient little puppy. Turning your head only to follow the steps of the huge wolf. 

The initial urge to run had faded away and now, even the most primal and fox-like part of you was excited to continue playing with the wolf. He barked at you, and you barked back, a polite bark this time around. Eventually, and after circling you a few more times, Moony walked closer to you, leaning from the back and moving his snout close to Vixen’s body. 

First, it was close to your neck, then along your back and eventually, he leaned down to smell your belly again, meanwhile, you stood there, patiently letting him do his thing, allowing him to slowly realise you really were a friend. He pushed you to the side with his head and you pushed back. He gave you a warning look and you reluctantly did what he asked. Moving to a different side of the room where he repeated the entire thing again. 

Eventually, he stood right in front of you and laid down on his paws, staring at you with his eyes narrowed. You nudged him with your snout, and he gave you a dismissive look. And then you jumped forward and nibbled his ear like he had done to Sirius earlier. 

Wormtail turned his small head the other way around, thinking that would be the last straw for Moony. Perhaps you really were stupidly brave. But contrary to his expectation, Moony simply barked in response, clearly diverted. Even Padfoot seemed surprised. And after you bumped your paw against his snout again he reacted. You pulled back and barked yourself. 

«Catch me if you can».

Moony barked in response and stood from the ground, chasing after you as you moved around in circles and all over the small room in the shack, crossing over the furniture, the old raggedy sofa, up and down from the bed, under the bed, under the desk that seemed close to falling apart, close to the –now wide open– metal door, under the rundown piano, and many other pieces of furniture laying around.

Eventually, you ran under Padfoot and after Moony tried to also get in between his legs, he too joined the game. Wormtail and Prongs were looking at the whole thing with both incredulous and satisfied looks. Incredulous because Moony –who had been awfully hard to control the last full moons– was playing along the room all merry and bright like a puppy rather than the angry wolf they saw too often. And satisfied, because the plan had clearly worked. Moony had accepted you as part of the pack, in fact, Prongs would even dare say he liked you.  Perhaps as much as Remus liked your human self. He certainly seemed to be enjoying his time as he jumped about chasing you and Sirius as if you were all playing some canine version of tag. 

After a while of playing inside the shack, Padfoot barked as he leaned towards the door, Prongs, who had been sitting on his hooves as he lousily watched you play, since he was too big to join the game inside the small room where there was barely enough space for the two big dogs and the small fox to play around, stood up in an instant. And while Prongs –being a stag– did not speak canine, like Moony, Pads and you, it didn’t take a genius to know exactly what Sirius wanted.  

Prongs nodded, looking all regal in his Stag form –completely contrasting to his goofy human self– and walked towards the entrance, allowing Sirius to cross the door first and following right behind. You realised the opportunity you had then and decided to make the game a little bit more fun. You walked over to Moony, as casually as you could, and when you had the chance you bit his leg again. He growled at you in response and you took off running. 

«Catch me if you can» you barked again and crossed right underneath Prongs, who had merely a second to realise something small and swift was running under his legs and stopped moving entirely, trying to avoid stepping on you. Once you got past him you ran beside Padfoot who gave you a questioning look before turning his head backwards and realising the gigantic wolf stalking behind the two of you, being slowed down by Prongs who was too big for the narrow hall to allow both him and the wolf to pass through. 

Padfoot seemed about to panic when he saw the wolf chasing behind you, but when you bit him the same way you had bit the wolf just seconds ago, he realised you were playing, just like you had been inside the shack and started running just beside you, his legs were a lot longer, and he had easily gotten ahead of you. But that didn’t stop you from running as fast as you could, leaving the wolf and the stag behind. Once you reached the end of the tunnel, you crawled your way to the top. It was much easier to do it as a fox, you realised. Perhaps if you had been a fox back then, you wouldn’t have ended up as bruised as you had. 

Once you were up though, you saw Padfoot near the entrance, keeping himself there as he watched the Whomping Willow stir about. 

«Scared?» You barked. 

«Starshine, it’s dangerous» he barked in response.

You are scared then, you thought as you sprinted forward, zigzagging your way out of the willow’s reach and barking at Sirius a short «chicken» as you ran into the forest. You felt unbelievably free, and you were having the time of your life. 

Running as Vixen had always been a way for you to feel better, and after last moon, you never thought you’d consider running away while being chased by the same wolf that haunted your dreams would ever be enjoyable, not when you were hiding in the rock and not when you had been pulled by the tail with his mortifyingly strong jaws, and yet, here you were, biting his leg softly and inciting him to chase behind you, as a bIoody game. 

The fact that the association made the last moon, of running away from the big bad wolf, was changing so quickly after just hours of officially meeting and playing with Moony was insane. You didn't see running from the wolf as scary anymore, but rather, it was exhilarating. The cold air of the night filled your small lungs as you ran through the crisp and thin layer of snow underneath your paws. 

Was it cold? You were having so much fun you didn’t even realise it. You continued running all the way to the forest, not bothering to look back to see if the others had caught up with you, you could still smell them, they were far, but not that much. And if you could smell them, Prongs and Moony, who had the most developed senses in the gang, would definitely be able to find you, if you didn’t run fast enough, that was. 

So you kept running, twirling and zigzagging all over the forbidden forest as you did, to try and make sure to leave traces of your scent on as many places as possible, to try and confuse the boys into following fake trails and so you could continue running. 

You had just jumped over a dry branch when you felt something push you from the side, you rolled a few metres and took some time to figure out what was going on when you realised Moony was there, looking at you with what could be interpreted as a self-satisfied expression. He’d caught you. He pushed his snout next to your neck since you were still looking at him as you tried to get back on your feet and then howled. A loud, high-pitched sound that reverberated all over the forest. 

You barked in response «Congratulations, you won».

He howled again, and you knew what he wanted, and even if you were still on the ground secretly trying to catch your breath –even foxes get tired, you know?– you followed suit. Howling along with the big bad wolf like you were part of his pack. No, you were part of his pack, the precautions had worked, and this? This meant he’d accepted you.

Another howl floated through the wind, it wasn’t far but it wasn’t close either. It’s Padfoot, you realised after hearing the slight give of his voice. You wondered if you would have been able to tell it was Pads if you had been human or if knowing was inherently a fox thing. You sometimes found it fascinating that even though you had been a fox for almost as long as the boys had been their own animagi, there were still so many things for you to discover, perhaps it was because you hadn’t spent as much time as a fox as they had spent as their own animals. 

While you had roamed around the grounds of your old school as Vixen a couple of times, you had never really had time to explore that much, let alone to actually interact with other animals like you had done now. Heck, you didn’t even know you could talk with other canines while you were Vixen until a couple of days ago when Padfoot barked something at you and you understood exactly what he meant. It was so shocking to you at that moment that you had instantly turned into a human and accidentally crushed Remus awake. 

“Sirius!” you had said, eyes opened like saucers as you stared at your boyfriend turn back into his human form and look at you groggily as he rubbed his eyes, he had been half asleep. 

“What is it?” 

“You said something to me,” you whispered, “and I understood it.” 

Sirius frowned and gave Remus a look, by then you had already half gotten off of him after apologising for crushing him as you turned into yourself and were sitting on the bed as you leaned close to Sirius, your bent legs brushing against Remus’ torso.  

“Yeah, you speak canine when you’re Vixen.” 

“I what?!” 

“You didn’t know?” Remus asked as he placed a hand on your shoulder to get your attention, you turned to him and shook your head slowly as if still considering what he had said. 

“I assumed you’d know already,” Sirius said with a shrug. “You even ran when I told you to back on the last moon.” 

“Because it was the obvious thing to do…” 

“Are you sure you weren’t just understanding canine?” 

You swallowed and turned your gaze back to Remus, “You speak canine too?” 

He nodded in response, “At least when I’m Moony, I do.” 

“You talk to each other?” 

“I spent the last moon trying to calm him down while he wanted to pull you out of the rock,” Sirius responded.  

“Wait–” you said as you considered the new information the boys had given you. “Does that mean you can talk to other dogs?” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said with a nod. “Did you never encounter a fox out in the wild yourself?” 

“Well, I– I didn’t stay as a fox too long when I was in my old school. Didn’t have much free time. And I had more roommates.” 

“And no cuddle mates,” Sirius joked and yawned, turning back into Padfoot seconds after. He then barked. 

Remus gave you a look, “He says we should go back to sleep.” 

“Thought you only understood when you were Moony.” 

He huffed a laugh, “Doesn’t take a genius to know what Padfoot wants,” he said as he opened his arms out. “Come on, get back here, you have to wake up early tomorrow.” 

You laughed as you shook your head and turned back into Vixen. Remus carefully picked you up and placed you back on his chest as Sirius got comfortable himself. 

Another bark startled you out of your thoughts and you turned to the side, looking at Padfoot, who had now jumped over Moony to try and throw him off balance. You jumped happily before spotting Prongs already catching up with you three and you barked at him as you jumped around a little, exploring the small clearing you had ended up in as Moony and Padfoot continued playing around themselves. 

Being smaller, you had gotten tired a lot faster than the other two dogs and you had found a small nook on top of a fallen branch where you had leaned in to watch. Prongs had joined their playing at some point too, and they had gone on small “races” against each other, going back and forth from one spot to another. Prongs would jump on his back hooves in a much less regal way than before whenever he won while Moony and Padfoot would howl as loudly as they could when either of them got there first. 

Moony tried to get you to join them on a race at some point and you just barked back something along the lines of «Not stupid enough to think I could win». Which had the wolf pull you from the tail like he had done last time –a lot softer now– and caused you to fall on the soft mossy floor. 

You barked at him in reproach and he just barked again, telling you to join their race. 

«Play!»

«I’ll lose»

«Play!!!»

You huffed in response, a tired sigh but in fox version. He barked again, and looked at you while peeling his eyes open a little. Was he doing the puppy eyes at you? The big, scary werewolf, making puppy eyes so you continued playing with him? Who would have thought? 

You tilted your head to the side a couple of times and eventually nodded, walking towards the branch they had all deemed the finish line and prepared, Padfoot barked and you ran as fast as you could, jumping through branches and pulling through as fast as you could. But Prongs had already gotten ahead and Moony was running as fast as he could to try and catch up with him. Prongs was the largest of the pack and that helped him easily outrun most of your friends, that didn’t mean Moony was no match for him, even compared to other wolves, he was huge and incredibly clever. 

The real match for you was against Sirius, who was not as fast but certainly a lot larger, if it were a race towards a specific point rather than a circle, perhaps you could have outmanoeuvred him by finding smaller places and shortcuts through the forest that he didn’t have access to, but in this case, it really was a matter of raw speed and he was far larger than you were. 

Regardless you were pushing through as much as you could, jumping and crawling around to catch up with him. He wasn’t too far ahead, in fact, you could probably bite his tail if you jumped towards it, and you were so focused on trying to level up that you barely noticed the giant stag running top speed straight towards you. Padfoot veered to the side and you jumped towards the other, only to be –in the most literal sense– caught in the air by Moony. 

His head pushed you to the ground and then grabbed onto the skin in the back of the neck as he picked up even more speed to outrun Prongs. 

You barked in protest, not because his hold was hurting you, in fact, it was so gentle that you weren’t sure what the hell he had done to his sharp and blade-like teeth. You protested because you didn’t understand what the hell he was trying to do by carrying you through the forest at top speeds. Once you crossed over the branch, Wormtail raised one of his small hands and pointed it towards you and Moony, shrieking as he gave you the win. Prongs was just a few feet away and he jumped over the finish line branch and turned to look at the now proud-standing Moony with a tired huff. 

Moony left you on the ground and howled, a testament to his victory over Prongs and then he turned to you and barked «We Won!»

«You won» you replied, not even thinking it over. 

He shook his head and pushed you with his snout letting you see you were standing right over the finish line and barked again «WE WON!»

At that point, you realised Moony was far more whimsical than Remus and shook your head with a slightly amused air to your features, then you joined his victory howl.  

After another while of playing with the boys, you all seemed to be running out of energy, even Moony who seemed to run on endless batteries was starting to slow down his movements. The night was still dark, but judging by your probably skewed perception of time and the position of the stars, the night wasn’t going to last much longer. 

«Let’s go back» Sirius baked. 

Moony snarled at him as if he were angry about the mere idea of going back to his cage.

«You’re tired, you’ll feel better if you sleep»

Moony shook his head as if he despised the idea of having to go to sleep, almost like a small child who wanted to continue playing. He turned to you as if you could help him change Padfoot’s mind. You had been the one to start him in a playing mood, after all. But you were far too tired to continue jumping around with him, you were not used to pulling all-nighters as an animagus like the boys were, and your small muscles already felt sore from so much use. 

As if the abuse you had given them for trying to keep up with the much larger animals was taking a toll on your body. It was much easier to just lay on Remus’ chest and sleep than to keep up with Moony’s whims, even if both were equally relaxing and fun. You opened your mouth to bark but a yawn came out instead. 

Moony leaned closer to you and started whining, much like a hurt dog «I don’t want to go» he barked in between whines. You wonder if he meant the forest or if he meant he didn’t want to turn back. It made you wonder if he knew he would turn back, in the same way Remus knew he would turn into Moony. If he was aware of his nature as a werewolf and if he felt so energetic because he knew he wouldn’t be around for another month or so once the sun came up. 

You thought it was best not to ask him, it seemed like a rather delicate subject and you did not want to get your head bitten off for asking the werewolf if he knew he would be locked up in a human body for weeks until he came back again. 

You wondered if it was the same thing for Moony as it was for Remus while he wasn’t transformed, if Moony saw everything Remus did in the same way Remus saw everything he did without being able to do anything about it. It didn’t seem like so, and while Remus and Moony seemed to be two separate entities, there was definitely something that connected them to each other, perhaps the potion Kless was working on would strengthen that connection, joining them together rather than dividing them in the way it did during the moons. 

You yawned again and he nudged you with his snout, trying to get you up in the same way he had done for the race, «Sleep» you barked. 

He whined again and Padfoot got closer, barking a few things that you didn’t care to understand, and after they seemed to reach an agreement both he and Padfoot went to nudge you «Let’s go back» Sirius barked, and this time around, everyone listened. You stood up lousily and trailed in between the two much larger dogs. Wormtail had crawled on top of Prongs and he was lying there as the stag walked carefully to avoid disturbing him. You were rather jealous, Wormy had gotten his good deal of sleep while you had to walk all the way back, then you remembered you had been the one to run headfirst into the forest as if tiredness was a state of mind instead of an actual fucking feeling in the muscles and you almost laughed at yourself.

Once you got back to the shack, you jumped on the bed and made yourself into a small ball, yawning once and then falling soundly asleep. You didn’t feel when Moony crawled on the bed next to you and placed his head on top of your back, closing his eyes as well. And you also didn’t see what happened afterwards. 

Padfoot tried to get on the bed as well, which didn’t seem to bother Moony at all, but when he tried to place his snout close to yours, Moony snarled at him, baring his teeth and his hair standing on end, and expression so vicious that even Pads was taken aback. 

He tried to get close again and Moony emitted a low growl «Away!» he warned. 

«Friend,» Padfoot said, trying to get close to you again and Moony barked louder. 

«Mine!»

«NOT!»

Moony’s growl got deeper, it was a miracle it didn’t wake you up at all and Sirius took a step back. Remus could live with seeing you and Sirius close, he would be lying if he said he never felt jealous or possessive whenever he saw you all over each other. He’d be lying if he said he’d never felt a sharp tug on his chest when he saw you kiss unexpectedly, not because he wanted you to stop, but because he yearned to join in. But Moony lacked the level of control Remus had gotten over the years. 

Moony was more animal than man and Moony did not like it when you and Pads were all over each other. He could tolerate it if it was a game, but that was his Padfoot and his Vixen and they had no business sleeping next to each other if it wasn’t next to him. Was he overreacting? Probably. But unlike Remus, Moony didn’t care if he was overreacting and he didn’t care if he upset you or Pads by being possessive over the other. He didn’t care because he was the biggest, he didn’t care because he was the strongest, and he didn’t care, because he was the king. And as long as Remus was Moony, you’d have to comply with his silly little whims because, after all, he was still the scary werewolf that had once haunted your nightmares, only acting tame enough to play around with you all because he wanted to and not because he had to. 

Eventually, Padfoot resolved to move to the other side of the bed and laid down next to Moony instead of next to you like he did all the time when you were cuddling. About half an hour later, you woke up after feeling a hand grip tightly at your belly, pulling you towards them. You turned around only to spot a very naked Remus, sleeping soundly. You looked at the old clock on the wall and barked to try and get him to let you go. If the clock was right, then you only had but minutes to get the hell out before Madam Pomfrey came to get Rem. 

Since your barking didn’t seem to do a thing, you stretched your head as far as you could to lick his face, you had seen Sirius do it, so you thought it would work. As you stretched though, you felt your tail brush against his lower abdomen and you were so incredibly glad that foxes couldn’t blush because dear Merlin! A little lower and you would have been feeling the very private, and very exposed parts of your best friend. After getting rid of that initial shock, you stretched your head again and started licking his face. 

“Little witch?” he asked groggily as he started to get up. And while you had cuddled with Remus –as Vixen– more than once, you almost always left before he woke up since you went to fly with the boys, you rarely got to actually see him in his barely lucid state. You licked again and he laughed, his voice was raspy, which made you wonder if it was just his raspy morning voice or if it was raspy because of how much howling he had done as Moony last night. You leaned closer to him and focused on a wound near his neck from where his skin had split open to let Moony out. You barked. 

“It’s all right, Luv.” He said calmly, “It’ll heal soon.” 

“Yeah, and we should go back now,” you heard Sirius say, he stood by the door and was brushing his fingers over his hair to get it to look less messy, both you and Remus thought it was adorable. 

“You should cover up mate,” Peter said as he pulled one of the covers your games had dropped off the bed last night and threw it over Remus, covering his more private areas. He was immensely thankful for that. 

“And stop hogging my girlfriend,” Sirius added, you had your small head on the crook of Remus’ neck and he was holding you rather close, just enjoying how warm you were and how deliciously you smelled, of moss and wet soil, of Padfoot and Moony, and most importantly, of Sirius and himself. If only he could cuddle you and Sirius every day like this, he would be the happiest man alive. Sirius, on the other hand, was a little cranky over the fact that Moony had kept Vixen away from him at early morning cuddles, he had already gotten used to biting your ear in the morning to wake you up only to have you turn back into your human self and shove him off for waking you up in such a crass way. He would then say something silly and get you to laugh. Sometimes you would even place a soft kiss on his lips as you climbed over him and out of the bed. He adored how domestic it was, something he hadn’t tried before, and he hadn’t seen it either, such simple acts of affection lifted him up immensely. He’d never had something like that at home. 

You thought of turning back, to give Sirius a rather snarky remark when you remembered you were still lying next to your naked best friend and decided it was best to step off the bed before you were human again. And so you wiggled out of Remus’ grasp, who groaned in return. 

“Stay a little longer,” he said with a pout as you tried to get out. You barked in response, something along the lines of «It’s late, Pomfrey will be here any minute now», not that anyone understood, neither of the boys were dogs anymore. 

“It’s late, Moony,” James said as he walked over to the bed, took you from Remus’ grasp and dropped you in Sirius’ arms, who, by the way, looked absolutely pleased with himself now that he got to hold you. “You better get dressed or you’ll be naked by the time Pomfrey is here.” 

Remus just groaned in return and covered himself with the bedsheets entirely. You were aware that Moony liked his hours of sleep, you also knew he got cranky if he didn’t, but it was surprising to see him act so childishly. Either the moon fucked him up real bad, or he just considered you already close enough to him to act however the hell he wanted when you were around. 

“We’ll meet you at the infirmary before the train leaves,” Peter said and you barked afterwards, to confirm his statement. 

Remus just groaned in response, something akin to “okay” but not quite it either.

Peter turned back into Wormtail and James placed him in the front pocket of his pyjamas before he took the cloak out of an old trunk in the corner of the room and covered himself, Sirius –and you for default– with it. That’s how you stepped out of the old raggedy room of the shack and back into the dark tunnel. 

You thought it was silly how different the tunnel felt each time you’d passed it so far, the first time you had been running from the wolf, anxious, stressed and fearing for both your life and Remus’, the second time you had been walking with both curiosity and hope that your plan would be all right, and it had felt a lot longer than the first. The third time had gone in an instant, you had been running from Moony again, but this time you were diverted, since it was all a game and the two of you knew as much. The fourth, on your way back you had been exhausted, but the kind of exhausted that felt good. The kind you felt when you were a kid and you had played for hours and hours and your eyes were giving out, but you still wanted to continue playing. And now, being carried by Sirius as he and James walked alongside each other back towards their room, you felt so comfortable you might as well fall asleep. 

And you did, next time you opened your eyes, you were lying alongside Sirius on his bed, curtains drawn and silencing spells clearly cast around them, since you couldn’t hear anything from the outside. You turned back into yourself and Sirius stirred on the bed, taking hold of your waist and pulling you to him. “Morning sleepy head,” he whispered in your ear. 

You yawned, wondering what time it was as you turned around and leaned on Sirius’ shoulder. “We need to pack,” you sighed. 

Sirius groaned in response, pulling you closer to him “Non, nous devons câliner.”

“Sirius…” 

“S'il te plaît, Étoile“

You sighed again “The train is leaving at 3, what time is it?”

“Assez de temps pour que tu me fasses un câlin.” 

“Ugh,” you said as you buried your head in his chest, he loved it, he too thought you smelled delightful. ���You make it hard for me to be responsible.” 

“Désolé.” 

“You’re so not sorry,” you said with a smile as you shoved him lightly. You weren’t sure when it had been the last time you had cuddled Sirius. Just you and him, you missed it, even if it felt like something was missing from it. You then started drumming your fingers over his chest “It worked,” you added. 

Sirius nodded, “It did.” 

“Who would have thought, Wormy had it right…” 

“You didn’t think it would?” Sirius asked as he looked at you with a frown. 

“I had hope…” you responded with a shrug. 

Sirius shook his head as he scoffed a laugh and bit his lip, of course, you would go through with it even if you weren’t 100% certain. 

“Does that mean we have to continue doing the cuddle thing with Remus?” you asked then, a small frown forming between your brows. 

Sirius was taken aback by your question, the three of you had gotten so used to it by now, that the idea of not doing it anymore seemed preposterous, for the three of you, since even Remus was thinking he would miss the hell out of it now that it wouldn’t be happening anymore. Moony had accepted you as part of the pack.  

“I– perhaps we should continue it, if only for the next moon or so, just in case…” he said, thinking if that excuse was too silly to be believable. If you would see right through him like you so often did and instantly tell there were secret intentions behind them. Was he using you as an excuse to be close to Remus? To be close to both you and Remus at the same time? Was that so bad? Was he so selfish for wanting to have the two things at the same time? Boy and girl? Wolf and Fox? Remus and you? 

Would he even get away with it? With being in love with you but having this pull towards his best friend that he just couldn’t quite grasp yet? Only that he knew he liked burying his face on Remus’ neck and he liked how much bigger he was in comparison and how strong he felt, but he also liked how much smaller you were and how much softer. Was there a worst possible time for him to discover he liked boys? For him to discover that he liked– no. He liked you. 

You didn’t want the cuddles to stop either, even if you told yourself it was an excuse to be Vixen, even if you told yourself it was an excuse to be next to Sirius at night, that you certainly loved, even if you kept telling yourself that it was for Moony and for Remus’ sake, it would be a lie if you said you didn’t like laying over Remus’ chest and sleeping with his hand on your head, carefully brushing the back of your ears. Vixen adored Remus’ cuddles, there was no question about it. But perhaps, you were lying to yourself too, as much as Remus and Sirius were lying to themselves at least. It wasn’t only Vixen that liked the cuddles and it wasn’t only your animagus side that liked to be pampered. 

“Yeah,” you responded, “just in case.”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: So... it was actually all cute and fluffy during the moon. Who would have thought? You guys were asking for a new Q&A so I'm working on it at the moment, send all the questions you may want to be added here, or directly on asks. Love, Lils xx

Read more Marauders Fiction

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can you please do this but with Ruggie and Leona?

Courting Rituals w/ Fem Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Ruggie Bucci

Mating rituals for hyenas are very…tense

Females are aggressive and violent

For males there's a lot of submission and fear that goes into the mating process

Naturally he’s not supposed to be all that dominant when dating anyway

But you’re so clueless and totally unaware he might have to help you get the hint

There are three things male hyenas typically do

The cautious steps forward and cautious steps back

Spotted hyena males often do something of a nervous start toward the female before running back 

Kind of like a nervous jig that’s a sure fire sign of their intentions

Whether or not the females actually see it they do it

Which rings just as true for Ruggie 

“Oh wow, Ruggie your sharing with me?”

“Yeah don’t get to hung up on it. I’m just being a good senpai.” No he’s not

Or when Ruggie unexpectedly shares some of his food with you

And right after that he doesn’t talk to you for the longest time

Those are his steps but you won’t notice

You’ve got so many friends 

He hates it really

Next is another round of testing the waters

Now this testing of the waters–or more accurately your boundaries

Starts with crossing his legs in front of you

Something he does casually while speaking to you 

Next is the scratching the ground in front of you

Again you just casually brush off the extra time he spends down there tying your shoe

But now that he’s tested the waters he can finally commence with his final act

Presenting and you accepting

Now this wasn’t the olden days unfortunately

Even without your proper knowledge flashing you wasn’t the right display

So he’d take something close to it 

“Ruggie I really appreciate you inviting me to come swimming with you.”

“Nishishishi it’s no problem! You scratch my back I’ll scratch yours.”

And scratch his you will since he’s wearing a tight speedo

And he purposely planned for this after all

Made sure grim and company we’re too busy 

And Leona away on some trip 

Now for your acceptance

Again he has to be slick you’re so far from a typical hyena beast woman 

You just don’t know that bending over and parting your legs is the ultimate sign

The go ahead he needs

“Hey (Y/n), I need your help with something! My goggles fell into this rabbit hole.”

“What why don’t you do it?”

“Heh? I thought you were nice!” 

“Fine fine. Just make sure I don’t fall in the ground looks pretty unstable.”

“But of course!"

He’s holding your waist tight as you  bend over

Its the way it will be from now on

Your his mate now 

And any violence he does in your name is completely justified 

Leona Kingscholar

Lion’s have very basic mating rituals 

That aren’t really worried heavily on being impressive or not 

Its snuffing out competition 

Yes, powerful roars and a large dark mane is just as alluring

But it means nothing if your intended mate is occupied

Like with another male or with a child of another

So that’s what Leona’s worried about

Worried about the way you so easily interrupt your time together to deal with Grim

“Sorry Leona, if I don’t go home now the rest of the night is going to be a nightmare!”

“Then why don’t you stay here, then.”

“Thanks but Grim gets fussy if I'm not there.”

The urge to revert to his ancestor’s behavior is strong

But he’d rather not deal with you fighting him so he’ll invest in making Grim a little ally speedbump

A few plates of gourmet fish and suddenly Grim is willing to mess up any other rivals of his 

And that pleases him….for awhile

But you still mention Grim when you two are talking or cuddling 

It makes him sick

So a deal with Azul or paid underhanded deal and suddenly Grim’s not your problem anymore

And when you come crying to him he’ll soothe you but he won’t feel remorseful

You won’t feel to bad if he gives you a cub or two of your own

[usedtobecooler]

dropping monday 14/08…

this must be the place

eddie munson x steve harrington x afab!reader

summary: the summer of 1985 is only just beginning when a trip to scoops ahoy! unlocks some deeply hidden feelings you have swirling in your stomach for steve harrington. eddie munson won't let you live it down, and maybe that’s due to his own feelings too, but a chance encounter on a hot night at lovers lake sends you all down a rabbit hole you could never of prepared for.

content warnings: 18+ only minors dni, sexual content (threesome, piv sex, oral sex, dirty talk, van sex), porn with plot, eddie and reader are fwbs with feelings, gentle bullying and banter, eddie is canonically queer, mentions of past king!steve, brief homophobia mentions, a heartfelt conversation. feelings are felt on all three sides, if you don't like it look away <3 reader isn't explicitly described as alt/goth but it's implied.

sneak peek below the cut

You watch curiously as the Harrington charm working it’s magic right in front of your very eyes, Steve steps in close to Linda, brushes a loose curl back — Jesus Christ, why was that doing something for you — and says something you can’t make out, but it’s enough to have Linda blushing and pulling nervously on the hem of her denim shorts.

Why were you jealous?

The telltale noise of an obnoxiously loud horn beeping lets you — and probably the entire neighbourhood — know Eddie had arrived to pick you up, snapping you completely out of your daydream. Your lips curl up into a smirk when both Linda and Steve jump ten feet at the sound, Steve rolling his eyes and scoffing.

What a bitch.

Eddie catches you looking from your window and lets out an obnoxious laugh, grinning up at you with his annoyingly perfect teeth. You wanted to punch him, maybe, but Friday nights were for one thing and one thing only, and that was getting high at Lovers Lake in the flatbed of the van.

So it’d have to wait until you didn’t need him for the weed or the ride.

Summer meant the pretty sunset as a backdrop whilst you smoked the day's events away — it somehow made everything that little bit more relaxing, watching the swirls of orange, pink and purple melt together as your brain fogged with the drugs, a nice settling in your tummy as your high took over.

It was second only to the heavy September rain that you loved so much, you found yourself yearning for it all year around. The loud patter of the large droplets clinking on the tin roof of Eddie’s van, buried under a nest of blankets to keep the cool chill off your arms and legs. Eddie’s hot breath fanning over your neck as he kissed it, chest heavy against your back. Warm, solid and comforting.

Maybe you were in love with him, or maybe you weren’t. You didn’t want to think too much about that.

You glide out of the house as quietly as you can muster, not wanting to arouse suspicion about where you were going. Even in your twenties, your parents would still have a few choice words for you in regards to Eddie Munson, and you were in no mood for the lecture. You’d heard it too many times in the years you’d known him, since fifth grade when he pushed you in the playground and you pulled his hair in retaliation.

From that moment on you were inseparable, to the dismay of your parents.

You’re aware of two other sets of eyes watching you from across the street as you bounce down the driveway, all smiles as excitement thrums through your entire body. Eddie’s maybe looking at you like you hung the fucking moon or something, but that’s probably to do with the fact you’re wearing his shirt and looking the epitome of hot.

Okay, maybe you had a complex.

“So that’s where my shirt went,” Eddie hums, giving you an appreciative once-over as you wrench the passenger door open with a horrific sounding crunch of metal, “looks better on you, I’ve gotta say.”

You clamber into the van with a huff, laughter spilling into it, “Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to woo me, Munson. We’re gonna fuck anyway, don’t worry.”

Eddie laughs loud and so fucking obnoxious, as if for somebody else’s entertainment, and it does catch the attention of the lovebirds on the other side of the road. You look over just as Steve catches your eyes, and suddenly your chest feels kind of heavy as he stares at you with a kind of intensity that you can’t put a finger on.

“Take a fuckin’ picture, Harrington,” Eddie cackles, head basically out the fucking window and he’s grinning at them both, snapping you completely out of it, “that’s as close as you’re getting to her, count your lucky stars.”

Eddie and Steve weren’t friends. In fact quite the opposite. Steve and Tommy were miserable assholes for years, made Eddie’s life hell at any given turn unless they needed him for drugs.

You think back, and truthfully the turning point was during Junior year. Steve had tripped Eddie in the hall, called him ‘queer’. Eddie didn’t stand for that, sucker punched Steve right in the jaw, hard enough that his skull hit the locker adjacent to him.

“That shit might hurt you when your daddy calls you it, but you’ve gotta do a lot worse than call me exactly what I am as an insult, Harrington.” Eddie had grinned, vicious and seething, as he watched Steve clutch desperately at his bruised jaw, wide eyed and hair askew from the force.

Steve never bothered Eddie again after that.

In fact, not long after, Steve never bothered anybody again. Maybe the knock to the head had quite literally knocked some sense into him, or something.

“You good?” Eddie’s voice, his large hand gripping your thigh knocks you back into reality, out of the daydream, and the grounding is enough to have your entire body melting into the simple touch.