#white distressed breakfast chairs

[chinxe]

Kitchen Newark Inspiration for a large timeless u-shaped medium tone wood floor and brown floor eat-in kitchen remodel with an undermount sink, beige backsplash, an island, recessed-panel cabinets, beige cabinets, quartz countertops, marble backsplash, paneled appliances and beige countertops

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Cete

Vampire!Anselm Vogelweide x Blue Jones x Vampire!afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: You and your husband are enjoying entertaining a guest.

A/N: For @oddballwriter and their wonderful thoughts about Trine but vampires, you're so correct. (I'm sure this fic is 10000% only going to interest me, but there we go.)

Trine Masterlist

Warnings: Anselm and reader are married, Blue not realising he's in a relationship with vampires, blow jobs, hand jobs, biting, blood drinking, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2132

Blue opens his eyes groggily, his head throbbing. 

He groans and rolls over in bed, away from the early afternoon sunshine that’s cutting into his eyes. It stings. Burns almost. 

He must have a hangover. That was it. That must be it. 

Blue sits up slowly, pulling off the golden silk sheets that have become wrapped around his body while he slept. 

There’s a pitch of water and an ornate glass on the bedside table. But suddenly his mouth is so dry that even the thought of bothering to pour the water into a glass irritates him. He takes hold of the jug and downs it in three long glugs. 

He dresses quickly, but stands up too fast and has to lay down again for a few minutes until the wave of dizziness passes. 

When he looks at himself in the surprisingly small mirror on the vanity he looks pale, drawn, with dark circles under his eyes. He tuts, rubbing his hand over his skin and the stubble on his jaw. Really, he should bathe and shave. Maybe after breakfast. 

Before Blue heads downstairs he adjusts his shirt, it’s loose, billowy and starch white with a low deep collar. You and Anselm always seemed to lay out a similar style for him. 

He doesn’t run into anyone on the way, which he has grown used to. It’s like the mansion comes alive at night, especially with all the parties and soirees you and Anselm throw, your staff are practically on a permanent night shift. 

He walks softly into the smaller, more private dining room, about to go further on into the kitchen. He was hungry and not above making his own food, when your hand on his shoulder startles him. 

He jumps, whipping around. 

“I’m so sorry,” You smile kindly, “I didn’t mean to surprise you.” You stroke his cheek, the rapid thump of his heart echoing in your hand. 

“It’s… it’s alright.” He smiles back. Blue was sure there were secret passages in the house, the way you and Anselm always seemed to just appear. Silent and poised. 

You look perfect, growing and radiant and Blue shifts his shoulders a little self consciously, here you were looking like an angel and while he felt like he needed a week in bed. Maybe he was coming down with something. 

“What’s wrong?” You frown a little, your head cocked to the side as if you could read his distress. 

He shakes his head, “Nothing, just hungry.” 

You nod, though you don’t believe him, and guide him to the table. Blue watches you as you move, almost hypnotised by the feel of your hand on his arm, how you seem to glide across the floor. 

You baby him a little as you sit him down and push in his chair while you kiss the top of his head. But he adores it. 

“I’ll speak to the kitchen.” You smile and stroke his jaw, dragging your nails over his stubble. “Is there anything you’re hungry for?” 

“I can make it myself, I don’t want to be a bothe-”

You hush him quickly, bending down and pressing a kiss to his lips. Blue groans softly and tries to follow you when you pull back. Lightly, you tap his nose with your forefinger and he beams at you.

“Is there anything you want to eat?” You repeat, a little firmer this time, but still teasingly kind. 

He bites his lip for a second, “I know it’s early… but…” He relaxes a little when you nod reassuringly. “That port you have, I don’t know why, it’s so nice… maybe a small glass?” 

You grin, “Of course” and kiss his cheek before you leave. 

You move so quickly, seemingly there one second and at the door the next. Blue shakes his head, he really must be tired. 

“And how did my love sleep?” Anselm’s voice makes him jump again, jolting like he’d been hit by an electric current. “I’m sorry, my love.” He smiles, his eyes sparkling. He leans down and kisses Blue on the temple and cheek before he sits next to him. 

“I swear you do that on purpose.” Blue pouts a little and Anselm grins wickedly. It was always the game: a little bratty, bordering on rudeness for Anselm, while he was a good, sweet boy for you. Most of the time. 

“What, my sweet?” 

“Both of you…” Blue huffs, putting it on a little. “Sneak up on me.” Anselm laughs loudly and the sound warms Blue’s heart. “Maybe we do, my love, maybe we like to see your body jump and heart race?” 

Blue hides his smile, “Horrible, both of you.” 

“Now, now,” Anselm leans closer, pressing his mouth up against Blue’s ear. “I don’t think you want to go around throwing that kind of accusation, do you?” 

Blue shivers, his eyes closing ever so slightly as he leans nearer. 

“Or, I’ll show you, my pet. Just how horrible I can be.” He darts out his tongue and lightly licks over the shell of Blue’s ear. 

He lets out the smallest whine, a truly pathetic sound that makes Anselm’s mouth water. 

Anselm takes hold of his jaw and sucks his earlobe into his mouth, biting lightly. 

As you walk back into the room, you’re greeted with a lovely sight. Blue on his knees on the floor between Anselm’s spread legs. His mouth is full, a light gagging echoing off the walls as Anselm guides him by the hand on the back of Blue’s neck, making him take his thick cock deeper and deeper. 

You smile when your husband catches your eye and beams at you. He holds out his hand as you come closer, taking hold of your own and kissing your knuckles softly. 

“Here I was, going to the kitchen to request Blue’s breakfast,” You tease softly, “And you’re already feeding him.” 

Blue whines softly, looking up at you with glassy eyes. 

Anselm tuts, “None of that now,” and pushes him back down, making him swallow more and more of his length until the tip hits the back of his throat. 

Blue gags a little, his hands squeezing Anselm’s still clothed thighs. 

“Breathe through your nose,” Anselm says softly and bucks lightly, pushing past Blue’s resistance to fuck his throat. “I know what you can handle, pet.” 

You sit down next to Anselm, “Don’t push him too hard.” 

He smiles, “And why not?” 

“He hasn’t eaten yet.” You give your husband a playful tap on the shoulder, “He isn’t used to our level of exertion.” 

“Yet.” Anselm’s grin widens, his canines sharp and slightly elongated. 

You scowl him softly, “Getting too excited,” You mutter in his ear. “He needs to eat first.” 

“Hmm,” Anselm runs his left hand up your arm and to your cheek as he turns his head to kiss you gently, while he pushes Blue harshly further down. “You are correct, my love. He hasn’t acclimatised to our rhythm yet.” 

Blue whines desperately, tears in the corners of his eyes as he swallows and gags. His cock twitches, quickly hardening. Both of you speaking to each other like he wasn’t there always did that to him. 

Anselm pulls Blue back by the scruff of his neck like a kitten. Blue gasps, gulping down air, but gives Anselm a cheeky glare. 

You laugh. 

“And what is that for, my love?” Anselm grins.

“I didn’t tap out.” Blue pouts. 

“Hmm,” Anselm pretends to think. “You’re quite right.” He pushes Blue back down, his free hand around his thick cock so he can quickly force his member past Blue’s lips and down his throat. 

Blue yelps, swallowing and groaning. 

“He makes such sweet sounds,” You sigh. 

“Don’t think I don’t see that look, my love.” Your husband tuts playfully as he strokes your arm. 

“What look?” You smile. 

“You’re the one who said he needs to eat first.” Anselm lets a small moan escape his lips, his eyes rolling back. 

“Maybe I need to eat first?” You tease.

“We, fuck,” Anselm swallows, trying his very best to keep his hips still as he slips deeper. “We took quite a bit last night.” 

“Not that much.” You slip down to the floor, flashing a dangerously charming look at your husband. “Besides,” you stroke Blue’s arms and he whines. The vibrations run along Anselm’s cock and he shivers, his hips bucking. “You’re enjoying him right now, you started without me.” 

“I, ah, I apologise, my love.” He lets his head fall back against the chair as Blue swallows and sucks, bobbing his head deliciously. 

Slowly you trail your hands along Blue’s chest, lightly pinching his chest so that he lets out muffled mewls before you shift down and palm his erection softly. 

Blue gasps, a sharp intake of breath in through his nose before he pushes his back against your chest and sucks harder. 

You quickly dip your hand under his trousers and stroke along his heavy cock, grinning when he thrusts weakly and whines. 

You can practically hear the desperation singing in his blood, the need to please both of you buzzing through his flesh like opium. 

You kiss his neck messily, jerking him quickly as he slurps and swallows. Lightly, you just graze the edge of your sharp teeth along his skin. 

Blue jolts, his eyes rolling back. 

Anselm thrusts up hard into his throat, his gaze fixed on the both of you. “Do it, my love, he needs it.” There’s a harsh desperation to his tone, a rasp as he speaks. And you know he needs it more, needs to watch you like an itch begging to be scratched. 

Blue whines, agreeing.

With little warning you bite down, piercing his skin with your teeth. Blood wells up into your mouth, washing over your tongue with the sweetest taste as the warmth runs down your throat. 

You clutch his chest with one hand while the other is a blur on his cock. Blue practically screams around Anselm’s cock, every muscle tensing at once as he comes, spurting all over your hand and his trousers. He shivers, shakes, swallows, whining desperately as he rocks in your firm hold, pleasure exploding along his spine and making him lightheaded. 

Anselm growls, keeping eye contact with you as you feed. He thrusts rapidly, nearly cutting off Blue’s oxygen before snarls and comes down his throat, his cock so deep that Blue has no choice but to swallow. 

You pull your mouth off him, the wound is shallow, barely a scratch. You lick it, lapping at his skin as he slumps forward ever so slightly, breathing hard. 

Blue’s eyes are glazed as you let him rest back against you, tilting his head onto your shoulder. His heartbeat flutters under your hands as he floats, weightless. 

Anselm tuts playfully, as he tucks himself back into his trousers, but leads down when you gesture and kisses you deeply. 

He darts his tongue out when you break apart, licking a small tail of blood that has run down your jaw from your skin. He groans lightly at the taste and smiles.

You easily move Blue back into his seat while he’s still out of it, blissed out and weak, while Anselm goes and gets a small port glass from the drinks cabinet and fills it with a little of the drink. He cuts his forefinger on his teeth before he swirls his finger into the port, letting some of his blood seep out and mix in. At the same moment, you slice your thumb with one fang and smear your blood over the cut on Blue’s neck, the wound heals instantly as if it was never there to begin with. 

Blue makes a small soft sound, blinking hard and you lick the last of your blood from your skin before you kiss him deeply.

Blue moans, iron on his tongue and not understanding from where. One second he was on his knees coming and the next…

“Did I pass out?” He mumbles as you pull back, his eyes bright and voice soft. 

“You did.” You smile, stroking his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be.” You nuzzle against him and smile. “You’re probably just hungry.” 

“Here,” Anselm passes Blue the glass. 

“Thank you.” He says quietly and drinks it down in one gulp, almost instantly the exhaustion starts to leave his limbs, the room looking brighter. “I’m sorr-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Anselm smiles and kisses his cheek. “I probably cut off some of your air when I came down your throat.” He teases lightly, his voice thick and Blue shivers, squirming a little. His cock twitches. “Already so needy.” Anselm laughs and you giggle. 

Blue heats up a little, but nods. 

“Maybe after your breakfast.” You say and Anselm nods. 

Thank you so much for reading!

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[martiniblues]

what a feeling ; 이민형

pairing idol!mark x female!reader

synopsis it’s not easy keeping your relationship with your idol boyfriend a secret, especially when he’s halfway across the country and would do anything to hop on a plane and get you in an instant. but little does he know that you’ve already beat him to that idea.

genre established relationship, a teeny tiny bit of angst, reader uses she!her pronouns and is described in a feminine way, so so so much fluff, mutual comfort, slightly suggestive.

wc 1.6k

song : what a feeling by one direction

mark: i would do anything in this world to be w you baby :(((

you: i knowwww but these next few weeks will go by so quick!!! we will be back together in no time<33

you quickly turned off your phone and adjusted your outfit for the hundredth time in the bathroom mirror. “i feel like i’m going to puke out my breakfast!” you leaned your back against the sink, facing one of mark’s staff members you had grown to befriend over your time as being mark’s girlfriend.

“it’s going to be fine. i promise you, he’s been doing nothing but talking about how much he misses you and begs his manager every chance he gets to let him fly out to you.” the words made you drop your head to avoid anyone seeing your flushed cheeks.

you and mark had been dating for awhile now, but it was your first time flying out to see him and see him perform outside of your home city.

what if he doesn’t want to see you?

what if he’s too stressed to see you?

“what if-“ you’re quickly cut off with multiple dings chiming from your friend’s phone. she quickly read the notifications and grabbed your arm.

“okay, they’re almost done running this last set, and then they’ll be back here.” she quickly drags you out of the hallway bathroom and into a new room.

a big white table sat against the wall with various foods, makeup, hair tools, and pieces of clothing scattered about. you noticed an oversized black and gray stripped hoodie that belonged to none other than your boyfriend. resisting the urge to grab it to warm your cold body, you hid behind the big white door, listening for any sound of the boys.

your heart began to race once you heard the hoots and hollers from the very familiar voices of mark’s members. talks of dinner and after-rehearsal plans hung in the air with no notice of mark’s voice.

the guys had already been informed of your plan, so when they greeted you with small hugs and smiles, you shouldn’t have been shocked. but there was no sign of your boyfriend anywhere among the eight men in front of you.

reading the puzzled look on your face, johnny answered, “he’s still working on his solo stage. the dumbass insisted he do it again, even though it’s perfect."

“if only he knew she was back here… man, he would forget all about being a perfectionist then.” yuta laughed as he joined johnny next to you.

“can you take me to him? i cant deal with the wait anymore.” you pouted, leaning against the wall, as you felt the wave of clattering butterflies begin to build in your stomach.

without a word, the two boys led you to the side of the stage where you could see mark sitting in a black chair, mic in hand, and body slouched back as he rapped smoothly.

it took everything in you to not run across the stage and pounce on him that instant, but something about the words coming out of his mouth and the vibe he carried in his subtle but sharp moves made you become entranced by him, as he always did to you.

“okay that was good, mark. we can rehearse more tomorrow!” a deep voice came over the speakers as the song stopped, leaving mark exhausted against his chair. your heart broke into a million little pieces, seeing the evident distress and exhaustion stitched in his figure.

“i think it looked perfect.” your mouth moved before your brain, not able to resist your boyfriend anymore. his head quickly snapped to your figure, which emerged into the stage lights only a few feet away from him.

“oh my god…” his voice came out quickly as his face pulled into an expression nothing less than shock, shooting up from his chair and bolting his body to yours.

his body slammed into yours before picking you up and spinning you around as his hands gripped onto you for dear life. “oh my fucking god” he let out again into your neck as you giggled and weaved your hands into his sweaty, messy hair.

“surpise!” you smiled so hard that you felt like your face might get stuck as you pulled back to look at mark, only to find him with the same expression.

“h-how… what? when did-“ his stuttering was quickly cut off by your lips on his. he slowly let your feet touch the ground and arched your body slightly as the kiss deepened quickly due to all the pent-up feelings the two of you shared for each other.

you couldn’t help your smile, teeth clanking slightly, before you pulled back to look at mark once again. “i couldn’t do the distance anymore. i had to see you.” your breathing came out ragged due to mark practically taking your breath away.

“you have no idea how close i was to flying out to you, baby” he said, swaying your bodies slightly, forgetting about the fact that you two were in the middle of a giant stage and had many people observing you.

“beat you to it though,” you sassed before a small ‘whatever’ left your boyfriend’s lips right as his fell onto yours again.

“this is so cute and everything, but can we please go eat?" haechan whined from one of the wings. the words made you two pull back in giggles, lacing your fingers together before following the guys off the stage.

“see you two lovebirds later!” johnny waved while you and mark got out of his car. “and be safe!” haechan added quickly. before mark was able to slap him for his suggestive comment, the brunette locked his passenger side door swiftly.

after the last few goodbyes, you and mark made way to his airbnb he rented for this multi-day show.

“i can't believe this,” you breathed, swinging your joined hands enthusiastically. “believe what?” 

mark turned his body, quickly switching his hands so that he was still interlocked with you, but was now walking backwards facing you. a dopey smirk grew on his lips as you visibly reddened.

“this. us being here together finally.” you pulled him closer by his forearm, stopping the two of you directly in front of his door. not even reaching for his key, mark leaned down and kissed your lips for the thousandth time that night, but this one held a much greater weight than the rest.

his free hand perched itself on your lower back, warming the cool, exposed skin between your top and jeans. no matter how many times you and mark kissed (and maybe it was the prolonged distance causing this effect), this felt like the very first time.

chills blooming through every pore, heat taking over your body, brain melting into a mark-shaped puddle. he took over every sense, and you did the same to him.

“i love you so fucking much. i don’t think i can take this distance anymore.” he pulled back, lacking breath from your lips moving feverishly with his.

you two stood for a few heavy seconds, just staring at each other. if it weren’t for the dim light perched by the door, you wouldn’t have noticed the way mark’s eyes glossed over and how his lips pulled together into a straight line.

“i don’t think i can either.” you choked out, reaching for him again and pulling his body flush with yours. your hand raked itself in his hair, and the other wrapped its way around his broad shoulders. soft sniffles filled the now silent night, aside from the crickets chirping in the grass.

“i love you too.” you wiped his tears running down his soft cheeks and kissed them quickly before deciding to head inside.

the events following were slow and thoughtful. even if you both didn’t want to face the distance again, you knew it was inevitable.

you and mark were entangled in his bed. his head rested on your chest as he drew random swirls on your forearm while your other arm fell beneath his head. hand scratching his scalp repeatedly.

“i’ve never had this feeling before.” mark spoke into the silence. you moved your hand to tilt his head up level with yours. “what feeling?” you asked, assuming he was on the verge of falling asleep.

“just being beside you right now, holding you in my arms. it has me on fire. i’ve never felt this way about someone before."his eyes searched your face in a way that made you want to duck under the covers, but with his body practically on top of yours, that became undoable.

“me too. you make me feel things i didn’t even know were possible.” your words came out softly, embarrassed to be so vulnerable. "well, you could just say i’m amazing in bed but… i’ll take the more poetic version i guess.” you pushed his head away from you in annoyance at his dirty words.

“not like that, you freak!” the both of you giggled. mark pulled his body up to trap you beneath his arms. before you could even recover, he began littering your face with kisses.

“what a feeling!” he pulled away with a big smile on his face, teeth and all. it made you want to squeeze his cheeks from the sweetness of it all, but you resisted the urge.

“what a feeling!” you echoed, a smile pulling its way on your face in the same fashion as mark’s.

a few more kisses and loving gestures were exchanged before you two eventually fell asleep. consumed with this indescribable feeling rushing through your body, making you fall more and more in love.

if that was even possible.

© martiniblues | do not copy or translate my work!

note: 1D x nctdream is TOO GOOD. i’m seriously debating on making this a little series w the dreamies (let me know what songs you think of with what member!!!) anyway, love you lots and please leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed!!

[fertilize-my-eggs]

Lusting after you ch.6

Let's the game begin.

Ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5 ch.7 ch.8 ch.9 ch.10 ch.11 ch.12. Ch.13 A03

A/N: oh no reader is in big trouble, shiggy is gonna punisher her for being bad!! The next couple of chapters will be shiggy brat taming you until you finally break and become his both physically and mentally. Every chapter will be posted on Thursday!! Hope y'all enjoy this chapter. 😜

Reader’s pov

I sob loudly from this new change, I want my old life back!! I can't be some Damsel in distress, I have to fight back and have my old life be normal again.

The loud knock disturbed my thoughts as I softly sat up on these dirty cheap sheets.

“ Miss young Y/n, I've brought breakfast. "It's not shigaraki, it sounds too polite to be him, it's a different male one you're not similar with. I slowly get off the sheets to walk in front of the door.

The door opens wide to be greeted by a tall very stylish gentleman with soft dark tan skin. He looks to be like Butler, maybe a waiter at a restaurant. He held no emotional expression on his features. He has striking bright yellow eyes, with midnight black hair and a bit of purple tips at the ends.

He's holding a tray with a fancy breakfast, next to him was a young girl who looked to be a teenager as she had the unsettling smile and blonde messy hair that was being held by two buns.

She lunges at me as she gives a big bear hug.” yay a girl in our group!! Tomura-kun couldn't stop talking about you~!! ” she pokes my cheeks as she coo sweetly.

“ I can see why he was all lovey dovey with love!! You're beautiful~ '' she bites her lips as she leans in my ear.

“ Lemme drink your blood.. I bet it's sweet~!! ” I feel shivers run down my spine as she is being pulled away.

“ young master shigaraki doesn't want you near his room himiko. ” she's pouting at him as the tray is being given to you.

You saw the door being closed as you started to panic.

“ wait~!! ” I scream as the door is paused as I look at the man.

“ Is there a way to contact my family? ” There was a long silent pause as he finally spoke.

“ no. Young master shigaraki doesn't want you to contact anyone nor touch his items. ” he looks into your eyes with a sudden harsh expression.

“ He forbids you to behave in his room while he's done working.. “  he leans in and whispers.

“ You wouldn't want the young master to be upset, he has a harsh temper. ” as he closes the door with a click.

You heard the girl called himiko shout behind the door.” we should have a girl night out y/n-chan!! ” The footsteps being heard goes away as I look at the breakfast.

It has a bowl of fruit. Next to it was white rice on top of it was eggs with bacon.

It looks too fancy then your regular breakfast that you had. In your old life you couldn't afford any food, you just worked at a game store to make money and paid the rent from a shady apartment.

I sighed heavily, will people notice that I'm gone? I know Denki and Kirishima from my job are probably worried sick.

Those two will be reporting about my absence. 

I sat on the bed as I began to eat the food, it tasted better as well. Does shigaraki make more money to afford food? 

That sounds stupid of course he has a job, that's what the man says… I don't even know his name but yet he looks more intimidating than Shigaraki is.

Young master… he's gotta be younger than me as I take a bite of the fruit, it has a sweet taste and is freshly picked.

Once I finished with breakfast, it was time to find a way to escape. I saw a desk that had two moderators and a pc.

I can contact someone from my account, I don't think tomura has got to it from my phone…. I tilted my head a bit clueless, he probably has, I see my clothes and items on the floor but no phone in site. 

I sat down on the chair that looked a bit expensive, I started the pc up as I watched it turn on.

It was too bright in the darkness, I saw the screen and it needed a password… crap what his password, I began to look for a booklet or something that could possibly have his password.

No luck, I sighed in frustration as I put my hands up to my face as I looked at the door.

There is one way, I begin to get up as I run up to it. I slammed my fist on it as I scream bloody murder, I shouting loud to anyone to hear my cry for help.

Tomura’s pov

I put my fingers on my chin as I read the newspaper, my smirk grew so wide as the new talk about the league of villains.. his group, I've been working on it from the ground up. I bite my lips as it reads the destruction and fear from civilians that our group cost. 

Thank God they are not talking about stain, I can roll my eyes just thinking about it.

“ young master shigaraki. ” I tilted my head to look at Kurogiri with an annoyed look.

“ young Y/n has gotten her food. ” I smirk again as I hold my drink of whiskey, I take sips of it.

“... good, does she know about the rule-.. ” a loud crash can be heard as we look at the direction as I quickly look at Kurogiri in rage.

“ yes… I guess she doesn't care.. ” I huff some air out as I get up and start to stomp fast.

“ You'll be in charge of running the bar, I'll teach her some manners. ” I growl low as he nods his head in agreement. 

“ Of course, young master. ” I begin to speed up as the loud banging can be heard.

Once I reached the door as I swung it wide, in my shocked expression, I saw you holding my chair about your head as I felt boiled in rage. The itch started to grow fast as I yelled.

“ What the hell are you doing!? ” you immediately dropped the chair as you ran straight first to the open door, I was faster then she was.

I quickly grab her hair as I yank it hard, she's made a yelp like pain as I dragged her to the ground, I look at the door knob being bent in half as I growl at you.

“ you lost your privileges. ” you started to beg for forgiveness and beg him to not harm you.

“ Please, I'm sorry!! I'll be good I-... ” I go to my desk as I pull out a bag of pills, her whining is hurting my head.

“ Shut the hell up, you're getting a harsh punishment for the door. "Your watery eyes blink fast and your lips quiver, I couldn't help finding it so hot just by your expression. 

I dragged you to a different room, one where it has a strong door and soundproof as well so you can scream as loud as you want sweetie.

But I think I like the quiet version better, I lock the door as you scratch at my wrist hard drawing out a bit of blood.

I head to the dresser and open it. It has a few items for couples even since I first saw you. I had to get toys and cute girly lingerie. It was a good thing I checked your size otherwise it wouldn't fit on your cute body.

I grab the handcuffs that have pink fluff as I begin to cuff you as you're crying softly and hear a soft “ sorry. “ Sorry, don't fix the door.

I focus your mouth open as I open the bag to give you your pill.. special pills for my y/n.

“ what the fuck is that!?! ” you whine and squirm as I try to shove the pills deep in your throat.

I focus you to gag on my fingers as I watch your eyes blink fast.

“ It'll help you feel good sweetheart. �� I smirk wide.

“ It's called sex pills. ” I watch and wait for the pills to kick in, it takes a few minutes but god do they last long.

She's starting to scream at me.” PLEASE! NO, I DON'T WANT THIS!!! YOU'RE FUCKING CRAZY. ” I put my fingers back in your mouth as you gag loudly.

“ much better… mhmm I'll teach you a lesson, pet. ” I lean in to lick your ear.

“ one where you'll never forget. I'll train you for days until. "Your eyes clouded with lust as you bite your lips hard, seeing your thighs being squeezed is such a huge turn on.

“ you're broken pet~ ” I throw you on the bed as you whine from the sudden movements.

I smirk at you sadistically as I begin to take my clothes off slowly in a teasing way. I pause to get your used panties that I keep in my pocket.

I stare at you as I begin to walk away to sit down on a chair nearby. I'm in my boxers as I begin to stroke my cover cock as I watch your body language. I hold the dirty panties to my face as I inhale deeply letting out a lewd groan, I watch you from the bed.

Your confused mind wasn't looking at me but your body tells a different story, you're hungry for it and hurt expression that I didn't pounce on you so fast and quick… No, the game has just begun.

[ros3maryt3a]

Domestic Facade

Chrollo x (f) OC

A/N: so I started this as a little break from revision and to mess around with writing tropes I hate, but now I’m really into the idea and need feedback on the initial extract. I was going to post this directly onto Ao3 but want to increase my changes of writing more by having a few characters under my belt.

NOT PARTICULARLY PROOF READ

Feeback would be appreciated <3

CW: non applicable

Word count: 1,193

- Content bellow read on -

The early hours of morning began to arrive, sun trickling through open windows, seemingly drawn by the sizzling of eggs. Days like this were nice. Curtains drifting slowly in the breeze, everything at peace. The thought of work -as pleasant as she found it- not weighing heavy on Nirami’s back.

One of her few days off.

Nirami stood beside her kitchen counter, watching as steam billowed from her soon to be breakfast. She loved cooking. Always had, it was so fascinating watching atoms at work.

Sat, ogling, at the way her egg whites puffed up.

The things swayed in her pan with every small movement, don’t play with your food, a familiar voice rang in the back of her head. Her father always did hate this habit of her’s. Counted it a waste of food as stubby legs would dangle idly from her chair, fork prodding at the food she’d left to go cold with a pout. ‘I don’t want it.’ she’d whine, only for a firm voice to barter with her, holding the prospect of desert like a carrot on a stick. Inevitably causing her to cave. At the time, she’d looked at him as if he was the worst person in the world. However, now, standing in a kitchen of her own, she began to appreciate that he placated to her antics.

Slumping the eggs onto a plate, Nirami moved to check on her hashbrowns (an equally as interesting phenomenon to watch as her eggs.), she’d have to pay him a visit, get something to replace the flowers she’d given last time. He always liked Chrysanthemums, it wouldn’t hurt to pick some next time she went out.

A single churn of her salt shaker signaled the dinner bell; she sat down to eat. Tearing her food apart with an almost abnormally meticulous care.

Through her chewing, Nirami turned her attention to the flurry of plants climbing up her walls. A colleague had once suggested the idea of a simple houseplant, to keep her occupied during her parents' passing, a few years ago. A part of her had scoffed at the idea. And now here she was, all sorts of flora scattered around her apartment.

Nirami wouldn’t particularly say it had elevated her grief, but it was certainly a pleasant development. A particularly burnt piece of potato cut through her idle thoughts, maybe she should’ve focused a little more on ensuring her food was edible…The food itself was nice, it always was, for all her slip ups Nirami was a good cook. Eggs oozed; she eagerly wiped up their contents and around fifteen minutes passed before she’d finished. Raising to put her plates in for the wash. A sigh left Nirami as she went about her daily drivel, it was always like this, just as she liked it. The routine had brought solace in times of distress and kept her grounded for her line of work. Never changing, forever trudging along.

Life was simple like this.

Life was good like this.

Life was–

–buzz

The light of her phone flooded the room, its artificial hue reminded her of work. Placing her plate back into soapy water, her eyes scanned the screen’s surface. Unfortunately for her, it had already faded. Forcing Nirami to dry her hands and wander to the side, picking up her mobile, a smile split through her lips. Perhaps changes in her routine were good every once in a while, he was proof of that. Chrollo.

The two had met at her place of work, he’d been dressed to the nines. At the time, she’d taken his attire and assumed he was there to grieve a loved one, offering her condolences. Once he’d revealed he was simply there for an appointment, she’d found herself stumbling over her words. He was kind and quite the charmer, winning her over with ease (and a little coffee).

Since then the two had grown quite close, Chrollo had slotted himself neatly into Nirami’s schedule. Quite the feat indeed. He wasn't around much anymore, had to head back off to work, he’d told her. And so, anytime his name popped up on her phone, it filled her with nothing but euphoria.

The text was simple enough, morning love, yet she still found it hard to respond.

He always did have that effect on her.

Chrollo was far more composed than Nirami. Every word he ever said was picked with poise. She settled for an equally simple response (one most would’ve considered second nature.) morning. The words ‘delivered’ looked back up at her. No doubt he’d take a while to respond, he usually did…

With a sigh, Nirami set back off to do: something. A pleasant hum leaving her as she did. Her apartment was fairly small yet held a large range of activities. She settled for reading.

Plucking one of the many books from its neat place upon her shelf, she didn't particularly know what it was she’d picked. Nor did she care. Everybook in that apartment had been picked apart more times than she could count. Most of them were gifts. Small reminders of Chrollo’s many stays. He’d often send them over, classics and historical pieces, far beyond the ages. A few of them had been in languages Nirami had never even heard of, forcing her hand in learning all sorts of new tongues.

She’d taken to her sofa, swinging her legs onto its surface and brushing her fingers against the pages. Turning to the cover she was finally met by its title: Wuthering Heights. She was familiar with this one, had been when Chrollo had bought her this particular copy. The conversation of that ordeal lay sweet on her tongue.

“Ah, this one’s a particular favorite of mine.” A chuckle rang out as fingers grasped a hard worn cover, moving with almost criminal precision. Finally holding it in view Nirami’s eyes were alight with curiosity before her eyes met the title. “Fitting, a man of nuance, attracted to the definition of it.” A slight look of surprise overtook Chrollo’s features, the act so minute Nirami missed it by a mile. “You’ve read it?” The question wasn’t raised in a way of shock, more admiration, “mhm, a few times over actually. My father used to give me all his mother’s old books.” The conversation spanned for what felt like hours, every answer Nirami gave seemed to give way only for another question. All perfectly eloquent and all perfectly crafted to garner the exact responses he seemed to crave.

It had been like watching a thief at work, the thought was almost enough to elicit a small laugh from Nirami. Her Chrollo, a man who’d shown her nothing but compassion, a thief? Such juxtaposition was a thing of Shakespeare. The idea in itself seemed laughable…With all the ruckus in her life, Chrollo had come as a pleasant break, thoughts of him often flooded her head nowadays. Though she tried her best to filter them at work, he always loomed in some deep recess of her mind. In a way, Nirami guessed he was a thief: he’d stolen her attention in such little time.

Bzz.

[lady-severus-snape]

Headcanon #21

Severus gets jinxed by a spell gone wrong. He is now a black cat who ends up with one of Dumbledore's grandkids.

🌠 Damn kids. He kept telling Albus to switch slytherin out with ravenclaw. Now he's atuck as a cat. It was only TUESDAY!!!

🌠Dumbledore lips twitching and his eyes twinkling as he thought of a solution. Severus was to stay with his grandchild y/n. They were in town from the States to visit him as a sabbatical for an injury sustained on the job.

🌠Severus being a scraggly emaciated little thing hissing and batting at everyone who tried to come near him. Y/n wasn't deterred and would entice him with quick ear rubs, homemade treats, cat nip, a toy, etc.

🌠y/n was told by grandpappy albus if they could watch a rescued cat. When you seen the little thing. You almost went off on them from the condition of the animal.

🌠you named him Cosmos after catching sight of a little white spot in the middle of his chest. And soon the two of you were inseparable.

🌠Severus tried to keep his distance from you, but somehow y/n wormed their way under his skin- erm fur and ended up I'm his heart. No matter how grouchy he was. How hard he bite or scratched, y/n always gave him a pet or two.

🌠y/n found out his likes and dislikes. He absolutely hated cat food and refused to eat on the floor. So for breakfast lunch and dinner Comos sat in a chair with his little fish shaped bowl and ate. He liked tuna.

🌠Soon Severus(Cosmos) started to recover. His coat became shinier, healthier. He packed on pounds. The first time y/n called him chonky monkey he was mortified. He bit them and hid to sulk and soothe his ego.

🌠By the end of y/n sabbatical, Severus was unrecognizable as a cat. He always cuddled with you and purred when you returned home from therapy. One day your pain was so intense that it caused him to be distressed enough. His transformation reversed and instead of cat sitting on your bed was Severus.

[palmredbottoms]

Well Every Christmas for over the last 20 years my husband purchases a new implement. I in turn will warm his bottom with my new toy on Christmas day. Depending on my mood and my husband behavior during the day the spanking can range from a mild to a severe one. Yesterday when my husband handed me my gift wrap package and I opened it (Purple heart square wooden paddle).

Myself - I replied this really is nice honey ( tapping it against my palm). Now I have 2 purple 💜 paddles , but it's good because this is square and the other is shaped more like common like a hairbrush/paddle.

Matthew - ( blushing) I thought you would like it. I guess you are going to use it on me later right.

Myself - ( Excitingly) After we have dinner and watch the Christmas movie. I will give you your traditional over my knee Spanking.

Matthew - ( upset) But I wanted to watch a basketball game not some Christmas movie dear.

Well to make a long story short we had dinner and Matthew was acting grumpy during the first half hour of the movie.I had enough and said.

Myself - Go bring Mommy spanking chair and the new paddle.( When I say Mommy he knows I am going to spank him immediately).

Matthew - Yes dear!

Myself - Well Matthew I was planning on giving you a little spanking, but the way you have been acting I am going to a hard Spanking. ( sitting on my chair and unbuttoning his trousers.)What do you have to say for yourself Matthew?

Matthew (Head down) I apologize I should not have acted that way.

Myself -( determined pushing him across my knee). You need a attitude adjustment Young Man. ( Placing my hand on his transparent white panties and putting the paddle on his back). This paddle better not drop when I am spanking you with my hand.

Matthew (Worried ☹️) I thought you were just going to try the paddle out. Not a hand spanking too.

Myself -( Raising my hand) You have earned 2 Spankings.I alternating fast hard slaps right to the center of his panties for a good 5 minutes.

Matthew ( distressed) Oh I won't be grumpy anymore .

Myself ( Once again putting my hand on his panties). You should be ashamed of yourself Matthew.At least the paddle didn't drop. (I could see how red my hand had redden his bottom through his transparent panties). ( Raising the paddle). Well let's make sure you are sorry.

Matthew ( Pleading) Don't make it long. My bottom stings real bad.

Myself ( Giving him fast swats again to the center of his panties) .5 more minutes. ( Also not forgetting his thighs).

Letting Matthew of my knee.I stood him up and hugged him and told him that he was forgiven.

Matthew (teared eyed) I am sorry Mommy.

Myself ( Cheerfully) Looks like I will get good use out of this paddle. Honey I didn't want to give you that hard of a spanking but you were acting like a real jerk.

Today I called Matthew for breakfast.

Myself -Well it looks like that little Spanking I gave you changed your attitude for today. Come here Matthew! ( Pulling his jammies down and panties down I could still feel a little warmth on my palm).

Matthew I slept quite well but I definitely feel the heat while I was sleeping.

Myself -After breakfast you can get dressed and I expect you to do a little chores around here. You are not going to sit around and watch sports all day.

Matthew Yes dear.

Myself Good I would hate to have to give you another spanking today.

Matthew No I will get right to those chores.

Myself I am going to call Jane and I need to take back a few Christmas gifts. I will be at the mall.

It's amazing what a good spanking will due for my husband attitude. That being said he still will get his maintenance spanking Sunday and I think he will be a good husband between now and then.

Hope everyone is having a happy holiday.

Lynda

Spanking Christmas Ladies #17-23

[theshiaxartistwrites]

Stardrop Valley

Fandom: Five Nights At Freddy's: Security Breach X Stardew Valley

Rating: Mature

Tw: 2nd person, Lots of dead characters, Child Death, Missing Children, Graphic Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Alternate Universe, Magic is Real, Monsters are Real, Not Canon Compliant, Different situations mean different behaviours, characters in distress, Kidnapping, Torture, thalassophobia

AO3 Link

Chapter Four: Day Three, Spring

While you do wake up warm and comfortable, you can tell instantly that your face is swollen. Your nose and upper lip feel puffy and sore. Your eyes open with difficulty, a pain sparking between your eyebrows. That kid really did a number on you.

You pull back your blanket and sit up, head heavy with fog. Remembering what the last time you woke up was like, you lean out of bed and look for your shoes. Gone. You try to frown and wince. Guess you're not emoting today. Looking the other way you notice that the doors at the top of the stairs are wide open.

How the hell does he do that without waking you?? It would be impressive if it wasn't so terrifying.

You slip out of bed and go to grab your phone from your jacket, anger flaring when you find that missing as well. Well, the jacket is missing, as is your pile of dirty laundry, but your phone is sitting atop your dresser, plugged in and charging. You really can't be angry and it's getting harder and harder to be anxious about this 'Attendant' when all it seems he's doing is attending to you.

You grab your phone and run a hand through your hair. Hold on. Where's your hat?

You groan, but just chalk it up to the Attendant doing whatever he likes and move on. You're not sure if you lost it yesterday or if he took it, but you let it slip to the bottom of the things you need to worry about.

It's just before 8am, a decent chunk of sleep, though you wish you'd been up earlier. You pocket your phone, not bothering to change out of your pajamas with the door wide open, and start slowly up the stairs. You step with care, avoiding any boards that try to creak under your weight, until you reach the top and can look into the living room.

The lights are on, bathing the room in warm light. Among the plants you noticed before, you notice the walls are decorated with several paintings, all of them sun, moon, or star themed. A large woven lavender rug, decorated with white-threaded images of wolves and rabbits chasing stars, stretches the space between tall bookshelves and a cozy-looking blue armchair. Directly across from you is a large fish tank, maybe 100 to 125 gallons, with a dark blue lunar theme. Though from where you stand, the tank appears empty.

You hear a clink of silverware from the kitchen and step forward quickly, peeking from around the corner and past the yellow couch and multitude of plants. The kitchen is empty, but there's a plate, a glass, and a folded note at the place setting once again. Your stomach clenches with hunger as you cautiously approach the table.

Six strips of bacon, two slices of toast with some orange jelly on it, and a well seasoned omelet mixed with diced red pepper, mushrooms, and onions. There's even a glass of what looks like orange juice. You pick up the note, another smiling sun drawn on the front, and flip it open.

You…don't really know how to feel. You think maybe you should be afraid, grab your things, and run away as fast as your legs can carry you. You still have a good chunk of money, you could easily start new elsewhere.

'Good morning, Starlight

I hope you like eggs and bacon more than pancakes

Breakfast is important!'

But…

This feels kinda nice. Not safe, just nice.

You set down the note and eye the plate. You've had several near death experiences in the last twenty-four hours, what's it to you to risk one more?

With a nervous glance around the area you can see from where you are, you make sure The Attendant isn’t hiding nearby before you plop down into the chair and pull up to eat. The juice stings a cut inside your upper lip you didn't know was there and the crunch of the bacon makes your nose burn with pain. But damn, it's so fucking good. You can feel tears threatening to fall as you chew, your stomach so happy for a good home cooked meal that isn't stale beef ramen with week-old store bought green onions. God how you wish you could smell it.

When your plate is empty and your juice is gone, you pick up your dishes and carry them to place in the sink.

Now. You have a giant creepy monster to find.

You don’t really WANT to find him, but you have questions and he hasn’t tried to kill you yet. Well, not on purpose anyway.

You're sure he's not in the house, but you're not sure if he's going to be all that friendly if you start breaking into other buildings trying to find him. By the front door you find your shoes on the rug and your jacket hung up on a hook, donning both you try the door and find it unlocked. Stepping outside you're greeted with the same beautiful sight as before, the sun barely up over the edge of the forest, casting a warm glow over the farm. You step out onto the porch and sigh, cupping your hands and taking a deep breath. You hesitate.

Do you reeeaaaally want to draw this thing’s attention? It might not actually know you’re awake yet. You might be able to get away and go look for those kids on your own. It’s early morning. Now would be the safest time.

You suck in a deep breath again and shout out over the fields.

"HEY! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT HERE!" You yell. "YOU SAID I WOULD SEE YOU!"

No reply. You feel a twitch of irritation behind your eye and put your hands on your hips.

"IF YOU WON’T COME OUT, I GUESS I'LL JUST GO BACK INTO TOWN-"

"We would really prefer it if you didn't."

You jump and spin around and look up as the creature that grabbed you last night ducks under the doorway and steps outside with you. Even in your shock, you manage to stop and actually look at him. You start at the bottom and go up.

He stands at least eight feet tall, more or less given how he stands with a hunch and slightly bent legs on his tip-toes. His feet are the same split colors as his hands, one pale yellow and the other dark grey. He appears to have cloven hooves in place of toes, the pale one's hooves are an almost golden yellow like the claws on his pale hand, while the others are a striking blue. Around his waist is a bright red sash that matches the red ribbons wrapped around his wrists and ankles. The way the tattered ends dangle almost looks like blood at a glance. He's dressed in a barely off-white pair of matching shirt and pants that are tucked into his wraps.

Draped in layers around his shoulders and hips are two different orange fabrics, a lighter orange with a burnt orange over it. The collar and skirt both cut into multiple sharp-curved points from which unnaturally glowing little stars hang. Atop his head is a burst of yellow petal-like pieces stuck out around his face, attached to a blue nightcap-style hat with another burst of smaller yellow petals at the tip that hide a small silver bell.

All this and it's his face that draws you in. The side you saw last night, his right, your left, is a pale yellow like his hand, with a round golden-yellow spot on his cheek like a bit of blush and a brightly glowing white eye surrounded by that black starburst. His smile on this side is gentle, sweet even, as this pale side is shaped like a crescent moon that splits his face..

The other side is a stark contrast.

A hollow black eye with a burning white pupil stares at you, you're reminded of Chica's soul-scorching glare. This side has no lips, instead it's almost skull-like with oversized teeth so sharp you're sure he could bite straight through your arm if he wanted. The little blue circle of blush on his cheek is distracting enough that you do not flinch when he moves.

"It's rude to stare, Starlight." He chides, gently teasing. You can't help but notice that while the light side of his face smiles, his mouth doesn't actually move when he speaks.

"You nearly smothered me last night." You balk, indignant that he could possibly call you rude after trying to suffocate you.

"We did not," He straightens up, but it's not aggressive, more surprised. "We were very careful not to cover your nose-"

"I can't b r e a t h e out of my nose right now." You motion to your clearly bruised and swollen face and watch his right side droop in dismay as he inspects you and realizes the extent of the damage.

"Oh goodness," He moves forward too fast to dodge, an arm wrapped around your back to pull you close. "I'm so sorry, Starlight, I didn't know."

"Hey-!" You press your hands against his chest, trying to keep him away and lean your head back when he lifts his other hand toward your face.

"This'll only hurt for a moment." He promises as you struggle to dodge his encroaching hand.

"Now hold on-!" You try to turn your head and yelp when he grabs your nose and gives it a hard squeeze. You’re not sure which is louder, the crunch or your scream. Bright lights dance in your vision and the way you're being cradled close to his chest takes your attention. You try to push away and take a sharp breath to scream at him, only to find that you can breathe through your nose again. It doesn't hurt any less, but being able to breathe helps.

"Stop touching me!" You snap, flailing your arms and wriggling out of his grip. "You keep grabbing me and touching my stuff! Stop it!"

You flinch at the sad look on his face and the way he crouches with his hands folded in front of him. It would be pitiful if he wasn't so much stronger and larger than you.

"Just…ask first next time! That hurt!" You gently touch your face, pouting at the way he brightens slightly.

"Of course! We did say it would hurt. Silly me! We're so used to just doing, I suppose we forget you haven't been here in so very long!" He clasps his hands together and stands up a little to match your height.

"What-?" You frown at him, no matter how painful it is.

"We've missed you terribly," He continued. "We weren't sure you were ever going to come back, but now you're home-!"

"Whoa whoa whoa," You put your hands up in his face and wave to get his attention. "Home? Back? The fuck are you talking about?" You want to grab his face and shake the answers out of him, but he gasps and holds his hands over his nonexistent ears.

“Language!” He gasps, eyes wide and face in a frown. You groan loudly and step backwards, trying to put distance between you. You feel your foot slip off the top stair and yelp as you tip backward. You jerk to a stop, The Attendant’s claw hooked in the bottom hem of your shirt. His arm is stretched out as though he’s trying so hard not to touch you.

“May I-?” He starts, but you grab his wrist and drag yourself back to solid ground on the porch, making sure to unhook his claw and step sideways to get a few feet between you.

“Look,” You cross your arms defensively. “I appreciate how much you seem to want to help me, you’ve been very kind so far, but I don’t know you and you keep doing some very weird sh…stuff.” You catch yourself from swearing again. “Who are you? Why are you here? What was that Chica monstrosity last night? Why are the kids in town so afraid of you?”

"Well," He tilts his head, arms sagging at his sides. "I guess it has been a very long time and we're not quite…'us' anymore."

"That answers absolutely nothing." You growl, glaring at him as best your broken nose will allow.

"Mm." He bends down to reach for your hand and freezes when you flinch back, realizing that he was going to touch you without asking again, instead he holds his hand out to you and waits. You really shouldn't and you don’t want to, but after a long moment you put your hand in his and feel a weird tingle when his smile turns oh so sweet.

"I'm Sundrop," He says. "I was…I am the Sunnyday Farm Attendant."

"Sundrop." You echo. Why does that sound familiar?

"I belonged to your grandfather before he passed," He puts his other hand over yours to hold your hand so tenderly. "Now I'm yours. I look forward to taking care of you."

Oh.

That's a feeling.

You turn your eyes away, unable to handle the way he's looking at you.

"Okay, Sundrop," You grip his cold hand briefly and then take your hand back. He stands up fully, looking beside himself with delight. "So, what about all the locked doors?" You ask as he steps past you and off the porch.

"Locked doors?" Sundrop taps his chin with a claw in thought. "Oh, you mean the greenhouse?"

"Yeah," You hop down the stairs after him. "And the gates and-"

"Oh! I keep those locked to keep monsters from wandering around or getting into what they shouldn't." Sunny leads the way towards the greenhouse, while you struggle to keep up with his long strides.

"And the doors in the house?" You press, practically jogging. It feels like he’s trying to escape your questioning.

"To keep you safe!" He chirps.

"From the monsters?" You scoff, but are met with silence. It feels heavier than it should, leaving you looking up at Sunny's back with a weird feeling in your chest. The click of a lock draws you out of your thoughts, realizing you've reached the greenhouse as he opens the door. He holds it open for you, smiling down at you as you look up at him with a wary look. Eventually curiosity gets the better of you and you slip past him and step inside. The farm outside is lovely, but the greenhouse takes your breath away. You count no less than eight different types of fruit, two of each type of tree, resulting in sixteen trees with branches hanging heavily with the weight of their fruit. The space around the trees is packed with summer spangle flowers of all different colors.

You breathe a small gasp of awe and step up to the edge of the dirt, looking up at a tree heavy with bright red pomegranates. You want to reach for one, but don't want to risk stepping on the flowers.

"Sunny-" You barely turn your head before Sundrop has joined you and is reaching up to grab the largest pomegranate he can find. He plucks it from the tree with a sharp twist and turns it in his hands, claws dragging over the skin. You watch as he cuts it open and turns it inside out, a few of the red seeds dropping to the ground as he hands it to you.

"Thank you." You mutter, taking it from him and plucking at the tasty little seeds within.

"Um," You clear your throat, Sundrop looking down at you. "The kids in town," Oh god, you don't know how to talk about this with an eight foot monster farmer. "Why did you save me and not them? They seem to think you're dangerous. They're afraid of you." Hell, you also think he’s dangerous, you’d be hard pressed to say you weren’t afraid. Your eyes meet Sundrop's and you look at each other for a moment. That heavy silence starts to creep back in before Sundrop breaks it with a softer tone.

"I…keep trespassers and thieves out." He says, tilting his head slightly. "I would never hurt them."

Okay. That's good to know. As long as he’s not lying.

"But,"

BUT?? BUT WHAT??

"My twin, Moondrop, is much more dangerous. It’s not safe for them here." Sundrop looks away as he touches the darker side of his face.

"How dangerous?" You grip your snack to your chest.

"…He would pull even you apart if given the chance." Sun looks at you with a sad smile.

‘Even’ you? That's not good. Very not good.

“…Why is it safe for me, but not the kids?” You press, your snack forgotten as you turn it nervously in your hands. Sundrop is quiet. He stands there in silence, a growing silence that makes your heartbeat pound in your ears, your breathing becoming difficult to control. So you change the question.

"Where IS your brother?" You ask, your hands shaking a little as you consider how unsafe you might actually be.

"He only comes out after sunset," Sunny assures you. "You're safe with me. During the day he can't get you."

You're not sure how much you believe any of that, but with how Sundrop has treated you, you really can't think of a reason to question him.

"I would…like to find those kids again," You say, popping a few more seeds in your mouth. "They might need food or a place to stay-"

"They can't stay here." Sundrop says firmly, turning his head toward you again.

“Why not?" You huff. “You still haven’t explained-”

"It's not big enough to keep that many people safe, they're safer where they are." Sundrop sighs, plucking another pomegranate from the tree. You pout a little, but shove a handful of seeds in your mouth.

"I still want to help them however I can," You puff up defiantly. "They're just kids and there's plenty of food to share."

Sundrop hums as he brings the fruit to his mouth. He opens his mouth for the first time since you've met him and you see the inky blackness that is the inside of his throat. He bites the pomegranate in half with a solid crunch, jaw snapping shut like a bear trap, and swallows it without chewing. You shudder when you remember how close his face was to yours last night.

"If that's what you want, Starlight." He purrs, tossing the other half back before stepping away to a small stack of supplies in the corner. He digs around a bit before turning back with a few wicker baskets in his grip.

"Shall we pick something for your friends then?" He smiles as you brighten and nod eagerly.

"Absolutely!" You bound forward and jut your hand out for a basket. Sundrop covers his mouth, muffling a giggle as he holds it down where you can take it from him.

You're going to grab as much fruit as you can carry to give to Haley and the boys. If Sundrop won’t answer your questions, maybe you’ll manage to get some more answers out of the kids in exchange for food.

[pointreyesjournal]

Hare Trigger : ep209

Autumn: I’m stuffed. I think I ate too much breakfast.

Beri: Let’s go for a swim.

Autumn: Swim on a full stomach?

Beri: Yes, silly. We’re not going to drown. We’re going to disprove some old wives tales.

Autumn: A last act of defiance before actually becoming a wife?

Beri: Hahaha, exactly. Come on Cheyenne, the girls are going swimming!

Cheyenne’s long curvy figure is stretched out and her arm is bridging the gap between our two lounge chairs as we hold hands in our slumber. I can feel her give me a quick squeeze on my finger to let me know that she’s going to let my hand go so she can join the girls for a swim.

I open my eyes to the sight of the three girls posing on the beach for a selfie. Cheyenne in her red bikini, Autumn in her white bikini, and Beri in her blue bikini. It’s pure pornography for the mid thirties males in attendance. Three curvy American women in the prime of their lives, arms and legs tangled together like supermodels in a Peter Lindbergh photo, toes and butt cheeks covered in Sardinian beach sand.

Floody: Would you look at that? God Bless America.

Henrik: Haha. Vive la France!

Floody: Henrik, you’re such eurotrash. That looks like an American flag.

Henrik: French flag dude. We’re in the med!

Me: Bah! Vive la Bikini.

Henrik: Yes! Vive la Bikini.

Floody: I’ll drink to that.

Henrik: You’ll drink to anything, mate.

Me: So true!

The Mediterranean being a sea, not an ocean, means that unless the Mistral winds are blowing the water is supernaturally calm, especially here in the channel between Corsica and Sardinia. There’s a swim platform a solid 75 meters offshore and the girls are floating casually toward it like a little flotilla of flesh. It’s a good long swim, but they spend most of the journey across laying on their backs, half floating, half swimming, laughing and giggling all the while.

The diffused light under the umbrella is intoxicating and with the girls safely on the swim platform I begin to drift off toward a light nap. I begin to dream about predator drones flown by lop eared bunnies. Unfortunately a species that typically avoids conflict, the US military’s bunny pilot experiment fails miserably. Just as I’m beginning to contemplate the finer details for employing a herbivore for armed conflict, a commotion wakes me.

It’s Cheyenne. She’s standing on the swim platform waving our arms to get our attention.

“Send a kayak!” I hear faintly.

Floody: What is she saying?

Me: It sounds like she’s saying “Send a kayak.”

I shout back in reply “Is everyone okay?”

Cheyenne yells across the bay “Autumn isn’t feeling well and she needs a ride back to shore.”

Floody is alarmed. His pregnant damsel is in distress and she’s 75 meters offshore. We returned the pedal boats, but Floody and Henrik quickly convince the kid at the rental counter that we need one for just five minutes. The rental agent is initially hesitant, but when Floody explains the situation, the kid acquiesces. And it’s a good thing he did too, because I was beginning to imagine his Italian blood being spilled in the name of commerce as I watch Floody steam across the gap like a dreadnought to rescue his lady.

[lokisprettygirl]

The Night Screams at The Slumber Island (Loki x Female Reader) (Horror Romance) (Dark) (Au) (18+)

Read Chapter 10 here //Series Masterlist

Chapter 11

Summary : Your relationship with Loki grows

Warning: Steamy stuff, discussion of rape, sexual abuse, gaslighting, cheating, mention of Suicide, discussion of mental illness, therapy please read carefully. If something triggers you please don’t read it.

After that day your relationship with Loki changed, there was a lot more touching but it wasn't the kind of touch that made your insides shrivel up, it was the kind that brought you comfort. Everytime you felt scared or distressed He would cup your cheeks and kiss your forehead to calm you down, he would hold your hand as you two sat on his porch for the evening tea time, he'd read to you and you felt comfortable enough to place your head down on his shoulder. 

You thought about that moment on the rocking chair that you two shared, it was sexual in nature but you didn't feel intimidated or scared by it, maybe it was because he allowed you to be above him and do it how you wanted it done, he had your consent, he made you confess what you wanted to do to him and what you needed him to do to you and it was liberating because you had control even though he was still the one in-charge of the situation.

Being around him felt like you were cocooned by a safe sheath where nothing could harm you but it wasn't possible to stay around him all the time. You still didn't understand the nature of your relationship with him, if he was a god, if he was here for you? What does that make you? Would he be gone once you don't need him anymore? Was he really a god or you were indeed losing the last bit of your sanity?

The questions kept you up at night, you had started to get used to the screaming but it still scared you, the screaming felt like it was inching closer to your house every day so whenever you felt scared you'd come to the window and you'd see him, he often smiled or he'd play his guitar for you to calm you down. 

The people of the town still maintained their distance from you even though you had tried to talk to them, especially the blonde woman you kept seeing in the market and there was this one instance where she seemed as if she wanted to say something but Clint came to her and took her away, that's when you found out that he was her husband. Her name was Natasha and she always seemed scared, she also seemed different from the rest of them.  She seemed Normal.

As you returned to your house you saw Loki on your porch so you smiled. He took the bags away from your hand and you opened the door, everytime you got back from the market he was there to take the bags away from you, was he just being chivalrous or there was something more to it? You didn't really understand.

He took out the contents of the bag and you saw him running his hands through everything before he stocked up your fridge,

"You want breakfast?" You asked him so he nodded, you noticed the white shirt he had on, it made him look angelic, his hair was curly and damped and he smelled divine. He leaned back against the counter as he watched you cook, his eyes stayed on your form, you didn't have to go to school today so that meant he didn't have to worry about you running into those awful people out there who wanted to hurt you. Mother has been trying to get in touch with him for a while now and he knew he won't be able to ignore her for long. 

"Are you okay?" You asked him and he snapped out of the thoughts,

"Yess darling I'm absolutely delighted that you're treating me to a meal" you couldn't help but smile, you also prepared tea for him since you knew he enjoyed that. 

You called Stephen once he left and he asked you if you were taking your medicines on time. He also asked you in his subtle therapist manner if you were still hallucinating so you lied to him and said no because you had no idea if you were hallucinating or not. 

That night you showered and shaved, after a long time you actually cared to do that, there's no way you would let him anywhere near your intimate areas but you immediately felt good about yourself. You put on a night gown and stepped out, it was too cold but you didn't want to go back and put a sweater on, his house was all lit up like always so you knocked on his door.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you in, all of a sudden there was a green shawl in his hands and he wrapped it around you before closing the door.

"You're shivering love" he mumbled as he backed you against the door and his frame, his fingers playing with your hair as he kissed your cheeks one by one. He was trying to maintain the distance but it was getting harder for him every moment. In every way.

"It's cold out there" you mumbled meekly and a dainty gasp left your mouth as he placed his finger on your chin to make you look up at him.

"Are you feeling okay? Is something bothering you?" He asked you but instead of answering him you got on your tiptoes and kissed him instead, your hands wrapped around his neck and the sound of his moan melted into your ears. Not being able to kiss him was what's bothering you it seemed.

"Where do you want us to sit? The couch? The chair or the bed?" 

"Not the bed please" your eyes teared up as the memories flashed so he kissed your forehead and walked you towards the couch, then he sat down. Your fingers curled around his neck and he shivered as he felt you caressing his skin. He needed this too, the physical touch from another being, he has been a lonely god for a long time now.

You sat down on his lap with your legs on either side of his thighs and he leaned backwards, your lips crashed together as you kissed him again and you didn't pull away this time until you absolutely had to, your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt and then you took them off, you were met with the sight of his wife beater.

"You're so handsome Lokii, I'm sure you are used to that by now but I just needed you to know" and you weren't lying to him, he was blessed in every way you could tell. That was one of the reasons you felt wary of him in the beginning because a man who looks like that can't be just nice to you for no reason. 

"I'm definitely not used to it darling" he chuckled but deep down he felt those meager little butterflies dancing around.

"I don't believe you" you chuckled and he smiled

"Please do, in my realm I am what your people deem average on earth. Gods and goddesses all around blessed with immense beauty one could not even fathom. I'm just a speck of dust there" 

You kissed him again as he finished talking, you hated the thought of him feeling lesser than anyone. He was beautiful, he was the most beautiful being you have come to know of.

"You're the prettiest thing I have ever known loki..and you have a beautiful heart, no wonder my mother worshiped you..she knew the truth" his eyes teared up as you said that and he controlled the urge to flip you under him and take you right now. The urge was strong but he can't just do that to you, he had to be careful and he had to be gentle with you, you had just started to trust him.

You dropped the shawl down from your back and scooted even closer to him somehow, he moaned as he felt the warmth of your body so close to him. 

"Your mother fancied me y/n. It wasn't just a godly sort of worship" you got off his lap as soon as you heard that

"Wait Whattttt?" You chuckled as you thought about that.

"She fancied me, as in she had lustful feelings for me" 

"Nooo she did not" 

You defended her immediately and then you thought about it, she wasn't the most present mother but you knew she loved you. However she indeed was deeply engrossed in him all the time, she even had an image of him in her head, she even addressed herself as a godspouse on a number of occasions. 

"How do you know that?" You asked him and he tilted his head.

"I looked into her past when she died" 

He raised his hand forward so you placed yours on his and he made you sit down on his lap again.

"That's weird now ..I feel awful kissing the god she thought was her god husband" he couldn't help but smile because your words amused him even though you were being serious he could tell. 

"It doesn't have to be, mortals tend to sexualize everything, gods aren't spared from their desires either, it's in their nature, their primitive animalistic need to satisfy carnal cravings does not hold any limits" he mumbled softly as he caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers.

"How does it feel knowing you're being objectified like that?" 

"It does not matter to me as it's not my concern. They don't know me or who I actually am. Most of them are delusional, this universe is so vast and there are living beings scattered everywhere, some more powerful than others, mortals are the least powerful of them all" 

 "Geeee thanks" you chuckled and he smiled again but it made you think about a few things "So there was a possibility we never would have met if it wasn't for my mother's genuine prayer?" 

"That's true" 

"Ohhh" your mouth opened in realization and the thought scared you, you couldn't even imagine living here all alone anymore. The island scared you, its people terrified you, the screams bothered you and you didn't think you could have survived it all without him. 

"For all it is worth I'm overjoyed to be here with you darling" his thumb brushed over your lips and you moaned in response.

"Really?" You asked him because you didn't believe him that he actually wanted to be there with you. You always figured that he had to be there with you.

"Mmmhmm and you look adorable on top of me" your cheeks flushed even more at his words, you did enjoy being on top of him. 

You were getting used to the intimacy again, touching him, kissing him didn't make you feel repulsed because you knew he didn't treat you like an object, he cared about your consent and he allowed you to take control, to take this at your own pace.

You didn't get back home that night, you fell asleep on top of him while he read to you because after a point of time you didn't know what to do with him, you didn't want to bother him with all the kissing, unknown to you that he was more than overjoyed with all the touching, and you didn't want to take it any further either for now so he conjured your favorite book in his hands and read to you. 

As you fell asleep he wrapped the shawl around you, converted the couch into a bed and laid you down then he tucked you under a blanket so you won't feel cold at night. The night darkened and he heard your screams but it didn't wake you up. You slept peacefully and for once he could sleep too knowing that you were safe there in his house, nothing would harm you in his abode.

In the middle of the night he heard a noise outside so he walked towards the window and he saw a woman placing something in front of your door. She looked around and ran away before she would get caught by anyone, he found her frantic as she looked around. Another trapped innocent victim of the island, he recognised her as he has seen her around the island, she had tried to talk to you, to tell you the truth but she was helpless at times. 

She didn't have anyone protecting her. 

When she left he picked the envelope up she had left on your door, it only said a few words--

"Don't try to run, give in. Make Steve fall for you, he'd save your life if you're good to him or they'll give you to her. 

N" 

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Taglist @mcufan72   @stupidthoughtsinwriting   @fraoid3   @wheredafandomat   @michelleleewise   @daddylokisqueen   @123forgottherest   @usagishira   @elegantcheesecakecrown   @sashas-recs   @lukira1337   @vickie5446   @spageddyhoes   @witchypandamonium   @javagirl328   @slpnbty2001 @mochi661 @lovingchoices14   @annoyingsweetsstranger   @army24--7   @el-zef   @asgardianprincess1050   @loz-3   @whylokiissocute @holotacopeely   @thomase1   @daggers-and-mischief   @constablewafflebottom   @marvel-love24 @crimson25   @laliceee  @evansabove1981

[march-harrigan]

May I inquire an x reader for Akrhamverse! Jervis, with an s/o who fits the character of the white rabbit? 🧐🎩 lol but please and thank you, and have a good day

Oh, EXCELLENT prompt, Anon!

Here's your arkham!Jervis with a white rabbit!Reader! Hope you enjoy reading the fluff as much as I enjoyed writing it!

His little White Rabbit. Jervis just couldn't help calling them that. After all, everything about his love was reminiscent of Lewis Carroll's chronically late lagomorph. From their nervous demeanor to their excessive need to have everything just so. Right down to the way they always seemed to be hurrying and scurrying about. Like they were right now.

Jervis watched with what could only be described as amusement as his dearest bunny scrambled about. But then could he be blamed? They were so cute, the way the hastily prepared breakfast bagel hung from their mouth. The way they scrambled to gather up their laptop, some papers, and any other items they might need for the day. The way they pulled up their loose sock as they desperately searched for the missing shoe to match the one they were wearing. Only to stop in front of the mirror and fix their hair as best they could with so little time and only one free hand. Why, it was enough to make the Hatter giggle at their antics.

A giggle that seemed to get their attention, at least. They froze in their tracks, half-eaten bagel dropping from their mouth as they turned toward the old arm chair where Jervis was sitting. A personal item he'd brought when he moved in with them. He hopped up and out of the worn seat and approached. A skip in his step and then he stopped, just inches away from them.

"My oh my, you look quite flushed! Now tell me dearest… Why the rush?"

Amusement at their behavior aside, Jervis' tone was also laced with a genuine concern. Of course it would be. They were his White Rabbit, after all. Whatever brought them such distress, it was his concern as well. His duty as their dearest Hatter to fix and mend, or at least ease their burden. Yet even with his willingness to help on full display, they only seemed to tense up more and more with each passing moment. Didn't he understand? They were already so very late "Won't you stop and have some tea before you take off?" he offered when they didn't respond right away.

And finally, they shook their head. "I… I can't, Jervis. I'm so sorry, I just. My alarm didn't go off this morning, I can't find my shoe... I'll be late to the office if I don't leave in the next five minutes.""

"…Oh, SILLY!" He just couldn't hold back another eruption of giggles. So that's what this had been about. It would certainly explain why they'd grabbed their laptop in all of the chaos. "It's a work holiday, remember? I cancelled your alarm so you could sleep in!"

There was a rush of silence. Not to mention relief. As they stared vacantly at Jervis, their body slackened, dropping all of the items they'd been in such a hurry to gather. They'd gotten so worked up, only to realize that he was right. How had they managed to forget? With an exhausted yet alleviated sigh, they put their arms around the Hatter and pulled him into a hug. It wouldn't be long before they were desperately working to clean up the mess. But for now, they could just relax.

"Oh, my sweet, silly, little White Rabbit," Jervis sighed contentedly, pulling them in closer. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," they chuckled. Finally at ease. "I don't know what I'd do without you Jervis."

"…Now about that tea."

[moon3thereal]

I have a request with Nat x reader. It’s a party at the compound and nobody has ever seen Nat drunk but this night she was completely gone like blackout drunk. So you end up having to carry her to her room and take care of her but she accidentally admits her love for you, you end up sleeping on the armchair in the room and in the morning you wake up to a Nat that’s throwing up on the floor, at first she don’t remember shit but later during the day she remembered what she said and gets really flustered and embarrassed but it ends I fluff reader admits her love for Nat to

Title: Drunken Confessions

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: alcohol

a/n: thank you for the request! happy reading <3

1.4k

Everyone knew Tony Stark loved the glamour of his extravagant parties often threw in the Avengers tower. Everyone also knew that while everyone else got batshit drunk, the black widow never got even slightly tipsy after several rounds of drinking games when everyone else was drunk enough to strip to their undergarments and start pole dancing. She always only watched with a hint of amusement glinting in her emerald eyes

That led to the bet going on amongst the other Avengers, Tony threw in a solid 500 dollars to whoever got Natasha drunk while the others put in smaller amounts. Thor had been lurking around with a smug grin for a whole 5 minutes since the party had started, you had no doubt that he’d been up to no good and opted not to touch the alcohol at the bar for tonight.

Spotting a certain redhead, you sidled up to the bar in your new dress that you definitely haven’t bought to impress her and new heels that again, you definitely didn’t buy to awe her. “Someone put in effort for tonight’s party” Natasha said, dropping her gaze to your heels and all the way up until she met your eyes “trying to impress someone?” she winked teasingly. Damn it, were you that obvious “Steve maybe?” she pressed, seating yourself on one of the rotatable, red leather stools you laughed “I don’t swing that way”

Natasha hummed in acknowledgement “me neither” she said. You turned to look at her so quickly that you thought you may have given yourself whiplash “Then…You and Bruce?” you asked cautiously “there’s a reason that didn’t work out” she said, taking a sip of her martini and sending her glass a peculiar look “you’re new?” she asked the bartender “no ma’am I’ve been working here for three years” Natasha’s lips formed into a silent ‘oh’ and you stifled a laugh

After a few more glasses of alcohol, Natasha was clearly very drunk, the rest of the avengers who hadn’t seen Thor’s expression of obvious smugness had drunk the alcohol unknowingly too and Tony and Steve were challenging each other to a dance off. In their boxers. You watched with amusement and second-hand embarrassment. Meanwhile, the Russian that was the heart of all this chaos was standing across the room apparently having an argument with Clint about whether the walls are green or red. The walls are white. Then it suddenly clicked in your mind, the only alcohol that could get her so shockingly drunk, Asgardian liquor

Of course, why hadn’t you thought about it before. Thor was incredibly competitive even if he didn’t look it. You continued sitting aside from all the havoc erupting on the party floor taking tentative sips from the water you’d brought, keeping an eye on Natasha before she does something stupid. Normally that was her job, unbeknownst to you, Natasha always looked out for you during Tony’s parties, knowing your alcohol tolerance wasn’t exactly high.

Glancing at the clock, you could see that it was almost 3 in the morning and the noises had died down and all the Avengers were splayed out on the couch only half awake, Natasha was half laid half seated on two bar stools barely keeping herself upright. Deciding that you really didn’t want her to fall off and give herself a concussion, you tugged at her sleeve “come on Nat, we’re going back to your bedroom” she smirked at you with her painted lips which were normally perfect but tonight, they were slightly smudged, you liked the look on her though

“Bedroom? Getting frisky already y/l/n?” you raised your eyebrows while helping her off the chair and draping your jacket around her shoulders “getting concerned about how drunk you are” you corrected. Natasha hummed and after a few steps let her head slump onto your shoulder, you were half supporting and half carrying her but you were glad she wasn’t sober right now because your heart was probably going a million miles a minute, her hair smelt so nice, her tresses were gently tickling your neck

Caught up in your thoughts you had to abruptly steer Natasha towards her bedroom before she walked directly into a wall. Practically dumping her onto the bed with a huff from the exertion of dragging her all the way back to her room, you pulled off her heels and hung up the jacket “I love y/n, don’t you think she’s just so pretty, she’s so smart too and how she fights, it’s soooo hot” she slurred and your cheeks heated up.

You were ready to dismiss it as a hallucination, you had feelings for the redhead, you’d been harboring them for a good 2 months because you thought they’d never be reciprocated. But Natasha turned to you “do you think she likes me too?” she asked “yeah, yeah I’m sure she does” you whispered. Natasha seemed to hear it, she sighed contentedly and let her eyes close. Making your way out of the room, you heard her say “stay” it was barely a whisper but you heard it and you could never refuse her

So you slumped onto her chair with your chin supported by the heel of your hand just appreciating how gorgeous she looked even blackout drunk, ginger hair all over the place and smudged makeup. It sounded creepy but you were really just taking the advantage of being able to stare at her now before she’s sober again tomorrow and your act of indifference had to come up again.

You didn’t know at what point you fell asleep but you woke up to Natasha rushing to the bathroom and throwing up in the toilet. Hastily pulling her hair back into a ponytail, you rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her. She glanced up at you when she was done and flushed the toilet “why are you here?” she asked while rinsing her mouth in the sink and holding a hand to her head while wincing. You tried to hide your disappointment, last night it was the alcohol speaking, not her, it didn’t even make sense that she would remember it, really. “you couldn’t stay on your feet on your own, let alone walk back to your room, I wanted to make sure you were okay so I slept in that armchair” you gestured to the armchair at the corner of her room

“You didn’t have to do that” she said “but I’m glad you did, thank you” sending you a tired smile. You squeezed her shoulder “I’m gonna go make some breakfast you want some?” you asked at her doorway “please” she said while removing the makeup from the night before. You nodded and made your way to the kitchen

Once you step foot in the kitchen, you saw Thor with a triumphant smile on his face and the rest of the Avengers grumbling, you slapped a 50 dollar note on the table, shaking your head amusedly as you passed by. Thor’s grin widened further as he stuffed the money into his pocket. There were pancakes in the pan, courtesy of Wanda most probably. You put two each on separate plates, slathering Nutella on yours and drizzling syrup on Natasha’s. you made some coffee and poured out two mugs

When you came back to the table, Natasha was already seated wearing a hoodie, one of yours you realized with a skip of your heartbeat, and sweatpants. Setting the plate and mug of coffee in front of her, you took a seat and dug in.

It was only in the afternoon when you and Natasha were working on reports that her cheeks suddenly went pink and she stared at you with an expression of mortification. You frowned at her sudden distress and walked over to her “what’s wrong?” you asked, genuinely concerned. “last night, what I said, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t, I mean, I do feel that way, but if you don’t it’s completely understandable and I-” you cut her off by pressing your lips to hers, the feeling of her lips against yours was heavenly, they were soft and tasted like her vanilla and cherry chapstick.

“I love you too” you whispered slightly dazed from the fact that you’d just kissed Natasha and that she hadn’t pulled away “show me how much” she said and kissed you again.

Taglist: @phoenixofash @michelle-dsn @midgardianweasley

[sasarahsunshine]

Hey, could I request omega Spencer loosing a long term pet and tuning to his alpha, Aaron, for care and comfort while he's giving.

Sorry, I know it's really specific, I'm loosing my dog and coping with it is hard.

TW: Pet death, grieving, Omegaverse, Alpha gentling his Omega at the end tho it's not smut, just soft <3

A/N: I hope you're doing better, hon. I struggled a little with writing this, mostly cause I wanted to use my own experience as a reference for Spencer's feelings. This also isn't as long as I wanted, but still longer than I expected, so it's a decent-ish blurb. I hope Aaron comforting Spencer helps to comfort you <3

------

It wasn't as though he didn't expect it to happen. He knew that Einstein was getting old; older than the average age for cats, actually. But it was still a shock to wake up on that Saturday morning, to open the can of wet cat food that his picky, sassy, no-nonsense kitty always demanded of him, only to not hear those old paws pad their way across the tile floor of the kitchen. No demanding, scratchy meows. No quiet purrs that rumbled on his skin as Einstein rubbed himself against his leg impatiently for breakfast.

Spencer emptied the can onto Einstein's little plate (he had a flat face; a pure white Persian--more gray now-- that his mom just "found" one day while Spencer was at school. He never really cared to see where Einstein came from, his childhood having been very lonely up until that point, where now he had a friend to cuddle and spend time with), and called for the cranky old man (as Jack and Aaron liked to call him).

"Einstein? Here kitty." Spencer walked from the kitchen to the dining room, checking the chair that sat in the sun. No Einstein. He walked to the living room, checking the cat tower, the two different cat beds, and the space behind the bookshelf. No Einstein.

Slightly concerned now, wondering if he maybe got out somehow, Spencer went back to the bedroom and shook Aaron's shoulder, "Aaron? Aaron, I can't find Einstein."

The Alpha mumbled something under his breath, laying on his stomach with his arms under the pillow. Saturday's were the only day he allowed himself to sleep in, sans being on a case, of course.

"Aaron?"

Aaron cracked open an eye at the way Spencer's voice wavered, the scent of distressed Omega hitting his nose as he became more aware. He pushed himself sitting up, his back cracking in a few places, his shoulder popping, before he maneuvered his legs off the side of the bed. With a yawn, a shake of his head, he finally settled his eyes on his lovely mate--and frowned.

"Spencer? What's wrong, hon?"

Spencer's fingers tugged and pulled at the hem of his sleep-shirt (one of Aaron's old shirts), stretching the fabric more than it already was, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He could feel his own panic starting to bubble up through his body, a ball of anxiety settled in his stomach and pushing its way to his chest, to his throat, forming a lump that he couldn't swallow down.

"I-I can't find Einstein," he said again, quieter, voice wavering, "Wh-what if he got out? Aaron, he's so old, he couldn't survive outside! He's never had to fend for himself before! Oh, God, what if--"

Aaron was suddenly in front of him, one hand cradling the back of Spencer's head, thumb and forefinger pressing into those Omegan pressure points on the neck to help calm him. The other soothed over his rapidly beating heart as he shushed him, chuffing softly in a form of comfort, "Shh, Spencer, it's okay. I don't think Einstein got out. He's probably sleeping in the extra room. Have you checked there?"

Spencer shook his head, eyes watering, but his Alpha's presence and pressure helped him to relax. Within moments, his breathing evened out, the anxiety that had settled in the pit of his stomach feeling a little lighter--though not gone. He swallowed, managing to take a deep enough breath that Aaron felt he could let go.

"I'll help you look for him, okay?" Aaron said with a small smile. He loved how much Spencer cared for his cat, how he practically babied the grumpy old thing. Nobody could get away with holding him aside from Spencer, and if Einstein was in Spencer's lap, well, Aaron knew he wasn't allowed near. He had to schedule his own cuddle time with his Omega after the cat. He didn't mind--especially since it made Spencer laugh.

The two went to the guest room, only to find it empty of Einstein there too. Going back to the kitchen, Spencer's breathing a little too quick for Aaron's liking, brought them to a scene that Spencer will never forget.

Jack was standing by Einstein's food bowl, the cat in his arms, and he looked... sad. The little Alpha pup had watery eyes, his cheeks and nose red from fighting back tears, and his arms were so full of gray and white fluff. He looked up at his parents, lower lip wobbling, and whispered, "He doesn't wanna eat. He didn't wanna get up, either."

Spencer swallowed, gently taking Einstein from Jack--and for a moment, Aaron feared that his son had been holding a dead cat without knowing it--only to hear the old grumpy kitty let out a small meow. Aaron was relieved, but that feeling was short-lived.

Spencer held Einstein for a long moment, face pressed to the scruff of the cat's neck, inhaling his familiar scent, hand petting down his back softly, gently, and purred. Einstein was purring too, though very faint. Quiet.

He took an unsteady breath before looking up to meet Aaron's eyes, his own now tinted red as tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

Aaron sighed, his whole body rigid and tense. His job as Alpha was to protect his pack--his mate and his pup--but this wasn't something he could protect them from. This kind of heartbreak wasn't an enemy he could fight. He couldn't defend them from it, and his instincts were screaming at him. His inner Alpha demanded blood, demanded he hide his family away in their nest, cover them with his body and protect.

Instead, he made two phone calls. One to Jessica to please pick up Jack for a couple of days. And then to the vet.

--

It happened much quicker than Spencer expected. Not that he knew what to expect; he had never had a pet before Einstein, and had never seen how any of this worked outside of TV shows or movies (which, it turns out, most of that is inaccurate).

Spencer had met Einstein when he was a tiny kitten, maybe 5-6 weeks old (Spencer decided Einstein's birthday was the same as his, October 28th, because it just fit the timeline better). Spencer had just turned 10, and now he was a few weeks away from turning 30, meaning Einstein lived to the ripe old age of 20--4 years longer than the average housecat.

The vet told them that he was sick, an auto-immune disorder that most cats get when they're around the age of 4-5 years. It's possible he's always had it, but it was dormant, or he was just healthy enough that nothing triggered it to act. Until now.

So, ultimately, it wasn't even old age that was killing his cat. But, because of his age, he couldn't take the medications he would need to fight off his own immune system to keep it from attacking him.

After 7 hours at the vet (tests, more tests, talking about options, too many tears shed, one more test), it was finally time to say goodbye.

Spencer sobbed, holding Einstein in his arms, petting his soft fur, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Aaron beside him, a hand rubbing up and down his back in an offer of comfort. The vet was sweet, made it easy, simple, and quick. One moment, Einstein was softly purring into Spencer's neck, and the next he was still, quiet.

Spencer handed him over with little fuss, wrapped in a blanket, and his cat--his first friend, his childhood pet, his furbaby--was taken away.

--

It took 2 weeks to get his ashes back. Spencer printed out his favorite photo of Einstein, framed it in a wooden frame that said "True Love has Four Paws." On top of his dresser, he placed the ashes in a little metal tin that he found at the thrift store; it was once part of a jewelry box, he thinks, the sides the color of an off-cream with vintage drawings of little white cats. They aren't Persians, but that's okay. Next to the ashes is the framed photo, and dangling from the top corner of the photo is Einstein's baby blue collar (with his tag, the name "Einstein" engraved in a fancy script that Spencer picked out when he was 16, thinking the cat was too proper for anything else).

During those first two weeks, waiting on the ashes, Spencer was mostly silent. Work was easy, of course, his mind able to shut off and just focus on the paperwork before him. He would finish before everyone else (as usual) and then go into Aaron's office, laying down on the couch and staring at the wall.

Sometimes Aaron could hear his mate crying softly. When he did, he could cover him with his jacket, knowing the scent and the weight would calm him, before going back to his own paperwork.

He had tried to convince Spencer to take some time off, but the Omega refused to be home alone. He didn't like laying on the couch without the weight of Einstein on his chest. He didn't like being in the dining room without knowing his cat would be under his seat, begging for scraps. He didn't like taking a shower alone anymore either, because now Einstein wasn't sitting on the edge of the tub and daintily sticking his paw into the falling water--only to be angry if he got too wet from his vantage point.

But once the ashes arrived, things got a little easier.

Spencer would talk to them, sometimes. Sit at the desk in his room and quietly tell Einstein about his day. Even he thought it was a little weird, at first, to be talking to some ashes (he's very aware that the ashes aren't Einstein, not anymore, his soul having moved on to the "rainbow bridge" as some call it), but that didn't actually stop him.

And then a month passed. And then two. And he cried a little less, went a day or two without thinking about Einstein--but the thing about grief, about healing, is that it's not linear.

Three months after Einstein's last day, a Saturday, Spencer woke up earlier than Aaron (like every Saturday). He stretched, yawned, and walked to the kitchen. He turned on the coffee pot, turned on the radio to listen to the local news and weather, hummed along to some car commercial with a catchy jingle that somehow always got stuck in his head at the most inconvenient of times.

As he waited for the coffee to pour, he opened a can of cat food and pulled out a familiar plate, scrapping the "grilled salmon" out with a spoon and adding a small amount of water to it, to make it seem like there's more gravy than there really is--

and he freezes.

Spencer stares at the plate of wet cat food, the can and spoon still in his hands. His lower lip trembles as he takes a deep breath, moving slowly, deliberately, to throw the can, and the food, away. He washes the spoon, washes the plate, his eyes watering--but he does not cry. He puts the dishes away, forgets his coffee, and moves to the living room.

Only one of the cat trees remains. It was new, and Jack convinced him to keep it, "in case we get a new kitten someday." Spencer doesn't want a new kitten.

He collapses on the couch, long legs folded up so his knees are pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins. He stares at that cat tree. He stares at it and imagines a new kitten playing on it, sleeping on it, hiding in the little hole, and popping out when Jack walks by.

He doesn't want a new kitten.

He wants Einstein.

-

Aaron finds Spencer in the living room, crying quietly to himself on the couch, still in his pajamas, no coffee or breakfast in sight.

The Alpha doesn't even question it. He knows. He can feel the distress, the sadness, the emotions that surge through his mate. He just leans down, picks Spencer up carefully, and carries him back to their bedroom. But not to the bed; to the second closet.

Spencer and Aaron haven't spent any time in this little nest in a while, mostly due to work, partially due to the loss of Einstein, but Aaron hasn't stopped scent-marking it, just in case.

He lays his Omega down before closing the french-style doors, flicking on the dim overhead light. Along the walls are finely packed sheets and soft thin blankets, making for a thick and comfortable outer rim to the nest. While the inside is padded with quilts, comforters, one heated blanket, pillows, and a variety of older clothes that have all been scented and placed exactly where Spencer wants them.

The Omega whines, curling into himself and burying his damp face into the nest, inhaling all the mixed scents there. This is where he usually spends his heats with his Alpha, where the two come for comfort and reconnection--but Spencer hasn't had a heat in half a year due to stress.

Aaron maneuvers Spencer's body, lays him fully on his stomach, arms at his sides, and then covers him. This would be better if they were both undressed, but it will work for now. He tilts his Omega's head to the side, tucks his arms under Spencer's chest, cages Spencer's legs in with his thighs, and then starts rumbling. He noses at Spencer's wild curls, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the back of his neck, drags his fangs over the skin, scenting his mate thoroughly.

Spencer's little whines and choked sobs eventually fade into gentle, rhythmic breathing, his heartbeat in sync with his Alpha's. He feels Aaron's large hand resting right over his heart, fingertips pressing lightly into the skin with every beat of his heart, keeping the time. He can physically feel his grief fading away, like a darkness that had welled within his lungs slowly being replaced with the light of Aaron's gentling--of his love and affection.

In their nest time has no meaning. Not when they're sharing Spencer's heat or Aaron's rut, not when they just need time alone, and not now. They could have been lying here for minutes, hours, or days, Spencer doesn't know. What he does know, is that soon his body is fully relaxed, so in-tune with his Alpha, feeling protected and safe. And he starts purring.

Eventually, Aaron has them laying on their sides, Spencer's back to his chest, his chin on Spencer's shoulder, nuzzling into the scar of the mating bite he left on his Omega all those years ago. He kisses it, kisses up his jaw, and then kisses the corner of his mouth, "I love you, Spencer. And Einstein loved you too, so much. He knew that you loved him, and he knows that you miss him. You've been doing so well, and I'm so proud of you."

Spencer hums, his eyes closed, fingers interlocked with Aaron's over his stomach. He tilts his head back a little, a silent question for more kisses--which Aaron gladly gives. Still rumbling, still purring, their combined sounds a silent vibration in the stillness of their nest. Aaron kisses away the tears, the dampness on his Omega's cheeks, and he whispers, "Would you like to tell me a story about Einstein?"

Spencer finds himself smiling a little, a soft huff of laughter escaping his chest. He settles further into Aaron's arms, mumbling, "You know them all already."

"Tell me anyway."

The Omega cracks open his red-rimmed eyes, peering over his shoulder at his Alpha, getting a chaste kiss for his effort. His smile grows a little, lips curled up as memories upon memories fill his mind's eye of the 20 years he spent with Einstein.

"Alright," he says slowly, turning onto his back, tangling his legs with Aaron's, settling his head back on one of Jack's old soccer shirts. He blinks slowly, earning a chuff from Aaron who noses at his temple, scenting and kissing wherever he can reach while Spencer starts on his story.

"Did I tell you about the time he was trapped in the dryer all night?"

------

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[jimilter]

riptide (m) | k.sj. | (1/2)

one | two

pairing:  kim seokjin x reader

rating:  m (18+)

genre:  angst | smut | established relationship!au

summary:  It takes a foolishly trivial incident to unravel how astonishingly little you and Seokjin actually understand each other. It has you questioning your relationship, and him? Well, he’s questioning his whole life.

warnings:  swearing + implied alcohol consumption + realistic relationship problems + mentions of insecurities, jealousy, complicated mental dispositions + emotional distress + sexual situations (unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talking, a bit of manhandling, fingering) + mentions of masturbation + a ton of miscommunication (refer to the summary smh)

word count: 12.3 k

note:  it’s FINALLY done, y’all! came up to be a monster of 25k words, so i decided to split it into two. i’ll drop the other part next week. this took a lot more time, energy and re-writing than i’d thought it would. i began writing this in january - it’s been five excruciating months! 😩 i really hope y'all will like this one~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

riptide (n) – a dangerous area of strongly moving water in the sea, where two or more currents meet.

Lady, running down to the riptide - Taken away to the dark side - I wanna be your left hand man.

The turn of events has been so fucking hilariously impossible that Seokjin has literally been rendered speechless. Which doesn't happen often, mind you. What can he do, he is just extremely witty—he always has something to say about everything, usually and preferably with impeccable comic timing. Especially when it comes to you. 

This, though. This completely baffling scenario, right in front of him, has him gaping like a goldfish with no words to say.

"Final call, Jin. Gawk at me for five more seconds and I walk out of here," you threaten, an elegant arm poised at your waist and gorgeously plump lips pressed into a thin line. "Say something?"

And Seokjin still cannot formulate a single word, because what the actual fuck? How can you even think that he could ever— 

"Alright." You catwalk out of his bedroom, leaving him blinking into space.

He jumps the next second, leaping after you. "Honey! How would—what—I can never—why do I even have to say—will you wait? You’re being so ridiculous, right now, I hope you know that!"

If he wasn't in such a fix, Seokjin would physically cringe at his speech. It was better when he was just gaping.

“Honey! Stop being so overdramatic, you’ve known me and you’ve known Jimin! For years! Stop acting like you seriously don’t know what happened, here!”

You don't stop, though, gliding down the stairs and hopping over the haphazardly tossed items in the living room as you exit out of the house.

And then you're gone. You're really gone, over something so fucking ridiculous, that Seokjin still has no words to say.

All he knows is that his girlfriend of five years has finally gone crazy enough to jump to conclusions of such high magnitude of stupidity.

And, that Park Jimin is a dead man.

It all begins on an unsuspecting Sunday morning, when the entire house is smelling of weed, stale booze and some worse fluids. 

Last night, Seokjin vacated his own bedroom for the boys to smoke up in at Jimin's request, because that is the only well ventilated room of the house. He spent the night in Yoongi's room with earplugs in, dead to all the chaos in the house—as he often does on party nights—to catch up on his beauty sleep. He cannot afford any unbecoming dark circles or, God forbid, breakouts.

And no, that's not a comedic moment, he really does need his face looking perfect this week for reasons outside of personal gratification too, because he has a shoot on Tuesday. He especially took a leave from his part-time job at the Mexican restaurant downtown where his girlfriend, you, work full-time, on a Tuesday—saying goodbye to all the amazing tips always forwarded to the cooks on Taco Tuesday—for this. Nothing would mess up his face.

Not to mention that one very important audition for a very gigantic project he's been looking forward to. They're yet to announce the date, but it would be this very month. He hasn't really told you much about it, planning a huge surprise for later when—if, actually, but he prefers to be unrealistically optimistic in every situation possible—he bags the coveted position, at the end. He hasn't really decided upon much, other than a long drive and a picnic date to one of those grasslands on the city's outskirts that you love so much. Oh, and bringing up the prospect of moving in together in an apartment with just the two of you. 

He's pretty certain you must not remember him raving about the opportunity, because it has been months since he did that. He then proceeded to be covert about all the mini auditions and trainings he underwent to prepare for the final audition, and he is confident you have not connected the dots.

But that is all a discussion for later — he doesn't even know when he would be auditioning. 

The crux of the whole matter is that he needs to keep looking as flawless as he can until that audition happens.

So he has slept like a baby, last night, while the rest of his friends have partied, including two out of three of his housemates—Hoseok and Jimin—along with Taehyung and Taehyung's girl. Namjoon had foregone attendance in lieu of the Halloween party, next weekend, that he knows he would definitely be forced to attend because Hoseok is hosting. Yoongi, his third and final housemate, escaped the house altogether to spend a night of music-making with Jungkook in his dorm.

So, in the morning, when Seokjin is moving around his kitchen that seems to have been hit by a tornado, checking the fridge and mentally praying that his baggie of smoothie ingredients is still in good shape—a scream echoes around the house.

Seokjin freezes. That sounded a lot like…you.

Immediately alert, he runs out of the kitchen and into the drawing room. Hoseok is hanging upside down on one of the couches, something that looks a lot like undigested white sauce pasta puddles on the ground, inches from his new, fiery red hair. Seokjin grimaces.

"Kim Seokjin!" your screech tears the silence.

Seokjin twists on his heels, looking up in the direction of his bedroom. It really is you. And you're in his bedroom—the room he did not occupy last night.

God only knows what kind of a scene you have walked in on. He hopes these idiots didn’t have an orgy up there, although he really can’t put it past them.

Not waiting another second, Seokjin rushes up the stairs and pushes through the doors to his bedroom. His mouth falls open on an audible gasp.

You stand next to his bed, dressed up elegantly in a navy dress that ends above your knees—which makes him wonder if you are here for an impromptu breakfast date—with one hand clutching his duvet that has uncovered what looks like…

…a head of long, dirty blonde hair.

Who the fuck?

In his bed?

"Hey, Honey!" Seokjin's voice is a squeak. "You… you here for a date?" he manages out of a suddenly parched throat.

You roll your eyes. "Uh huh. A fact you would've known if you looked at the texts I sent you last night." Your eyes are narrow at him. "This explains why you didn't, though. Busy night, Jin?" 

He balks at your words, at a loss. How could you even think it was him, when you know all about Park Jimin and his escapades?! 

Seokjin's blood boils. Fucking Jimin. There is going to be blood on Seokjin’s hands. 

In the midst of it, the blonde head shifts. 

Soon after, as you two watch, a pair of brown eyes with smudged makeup emerge from inside Seokjin's bed—and the audacity?! There’s makeup all over his covers! Jimin will pay for the dry cleaning. The face is followed by a whole, tiny woman of five-something feet who is, thankfully, covered in a shirt.

Seokjin is almost not breathing when the blonde starts to give him a dreamy smile, his gaze switching between her and you. And it’s extremely stupid, because he hasn’t seen this woman before, ever, in his entire life. But he catches the way your arms fall to your sides and those elegant, dainty fingers of yours ball up into fists as you look at the blondie’s face.

Fortunately, the girl recognises him at last before her grin could turn fully dopey, and with a squeak, jumps out of the bed. “You’re not—um. Hi. Sorry, I, uh. I’ll get going.”

And surprisingly, she does exactly that in less than a minute, leaving you to stare down at Seokjin.

“You know, it’s really unbecoming for a girlfriend to keep finding girls in her boyfriend’s bed every other week and not be given an explanation, ever.” Your tone is teasing, but your eyes are taunting. “You shouldn’t always be so dismissive, you know? What if I start getting ideas? I don’t think you even remember how to make up with your girlfriend, at this point, because I never fight.”

That is when Seokjin starts gawking. And literally doesn’t stop until you’ve left the house.

“I don’t get it,” Jackson says, stuffing cold noodles into his mouth and chewing on them without closing it. “Do you think he cheated on you, or do you not think he cheated on you?”

You look at your best friend with your face twisted up in disgust. You swear to God you would never have agreed to make friends with this guy on your mother’s insistence when the Wang family moved in next doors to you, had you known he’d turn out to be such a barbarian a decade later. Twelve-year-old Jackson had been such a decent kid—studious, elegant, well-mannered. What went wrong, along the way?

You exhale, shifting on your chair, very wary of any dried up fluids that you might come in contact with. “I know he did not cheat on me, Jax, the very notion is completely ridiculous.”

Jackson stops chewing and looks away from the WWE match playing on the TV to squint at you. “I’m…confused? Wait. What is the problem, then? What are you mad at him for?”

To be completely honest, you aren’t quite certain yourself.

But you do know that you don’t feel good. And that this feeling has been building up over a couple months, but you have only really acknowledged it head-on, today, in all five-something years of your relationship. Five years, seven months and eight days, to be exact, but that’s kinda besides the point.

You’ve had at least a few months’ worth of buildup that has gotten you to this point, you would admit. Especially after Seokjin had to cancel that visit to your hometown at the end of June, for your parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration because he had an important audition for a big-brand ad film. The cancellation was acceptable, but his offhand comment that, “thirty-five isn’t even that special, we’ll get them a huge gift for their fiftieth,” stayed with you longer than it should’ve. Things got okay-ish when you reminded yourself how Seokjin never really thought too hard about things he said, always being a humorous, unattached clown in every situation. But this morning's dismissal has pushed you over that edge. You straightaway goaded him, claiming he doesn’t remember how to make it up to you, and all you got in response was his shock and being called “ridiculous” and “overdramatic.” Fun.

You were most certainly joking, if a bit caustically, when you said what you did. He could have taken it as a joke and laughed it off. He could have taken it as a threat and comforted you, said it was Jimin that used his room, and maybe kissed you. You already knew what had happened when you saw the girl, anyway. But this was probably the third time this situation had happened, this month. 

Sure, you are understanding and really do know Jimin and what all he gets up to, but is that really supposed to be such a given? Asking your boyfriend to hug you close and kiss your forehead when you discover a girl in his bed just as you were about to cuddle the lump of sheets thinking it was him, is not too much to expect, is it?

Granted, Seokjin has never been extremely expressive, but still. It feels like he’s consciously trying to keep you at a distance, these past few months.

You don’t have the complete grasp of the storm of thoughts in your head yet, but you want to try and explain it to Jackson the best you can. 

“It was about respect, in a way, I guess,” you quietly mumble, and Jackson turns the TV off, now sitting cross legged on the couch to face your chair. He puts away his takeout container to frown at you, probably gleaning how serious this is for you. “He stood there, without saying a single word, expecting me to stop being mad. Almost willing me to stop being mad by making these big, incredulous eyes at me. Like it was that horrible of his girlfriend to demand for an explanation when she found a girl in his bedroom. It was just the two of us, I wasn’t making a scene in front of anybody. He just—ugh! He could’ve simply asked me to not be mad, said it was Jimin who spent the night in the room and maybe even laughed about it, or plotted Jimin’s murder—I would’ve joined in—but no. He acted like I was being stupid, told me not be ridiculous and dramatic. And that made me feel really stupid.”

Jackson winces. “And why do you think you were not being stupid?”

You exhale. “I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t actually accusing him of anything, and five years down the lane, he should know that now. I just wanted him to say it and not scold me when I tease-taunted him. He always expects me to know everything. And even though I always do, it gets tiring sometimes. These weird thoughts get to you — that maybe you’re being too understanding and he’s using that to his advantage, you know?” You look down at your lap, playing with your nails. “It’s just…um. I wanted him to coddle me, I guess. To treat this as something big because I was throwing a tantrum about it and, just, I don’t know—try to cajole me? Assuage me with his words, maybe? But he didn’t. Because he hasn’t done that in forever. Because I never need him to, because I always freaking understand everything!” A sob leaves you.

Jackson pats the place next to him. “C’mere, you dumdum, and stop hyperventilating,” he mumbles, hugging you to his side when you move to sit on the couch. “I don’t exactly understand how the relationship dynamics work, but from what you told me, I get that you wanted attention? Some loving? And instead you got disappointed looks because Jin expected you to be mature and rational about it — the way you always are — and that too with his fucking eyes and some low-key insult words? Is it something like that?”

Wow, Jackson really paraphrased all that amazingly. “Yes, actually. It’s exactly that.”

Jackson sighs. “Y’all have been together a long time, babe, so I guess it’s kind of a given that you’d get to a no-bullshit point. Which is why he hasn’t done that in forever, because y’all probably don’t need that kinda stuff between you anymore.”

“I get that, it’s how a relationship matures. But I’m pretty certain that it’s not supposed to make me feel like this,” you sound slightly muffled, having stuffed your face into Jackson’s hoodie-covered chest. “I feel—I feel like we got too comfortable and now he’s just started to take me for granted. And I also feel like I’m being too needy. Am I being needy and annoying? He’d hate me if I told him all this, won’t he? Half of the reason we’ve worked out so well is because we’re both career oriented and don’t waste time overthinking stupid shit.” You gasp. “Oh, no—would he leave me? He’s used to his girlfriend being mature, not needy—”

You are cut off when Jackson pulls you away by your shoulders, giving you a serious look. “Wait, wait, stop. What did you say? Not the needy part, you’re allowed to be needy once in all the damn three-sixty-five days y’all stay busy for. The…taking you for granted part. Pretty big of a thing to say, babe.”

You sigh. “We haven’t been on an actual date in months. Seokjin thinks there’s no need for that extra effort when we spend lunch breaks at work together, everyday. Outside of the restaurant, our meetings involve our entire flock of friends by default. It’s been three months since we slept together.” You sniff, hating having to impart such a private detail of your life. “So no, I don’t think it’s that big of a thing to say, at all.”

“Wow.” Jackson gives a slow whistle. “You’ve really been bottling up a lot in there, huh?”

You shrug. “I guess. It never made me feel underappreciated, though. Sure, I was irritated at some occasions and disappointed at others, but… Today I feel horrible, Jax.”

“Did you share anything with Byulyi?” he asks, referring to your flatmate and good friend since college.

You shake your head. “She already has a lot on her plate, right now. She got rejected by the photographer she wanted to intern with, so it’s back to freelancing for her.”

“Yeah, that must suck.” Jackson grimaces. Then he looks at you. “You need to take a break, hun. Sit back, today, and have tacos and beer with me. Reset your inner thoughts. Talk to Jin tomorrow. Although, I must say, it’s kinda depressing that you have to actually tell your boyfriend that he’s being a bad boyfriend. Isn’t that kind of shit supposed to be realized on your own?”

You purse your lips. “I guess, yeah. But…don’t say that he’s being a bad boyfriend, Jax. I don’t think he even realizes something is wrong.”

“And that…doesn’t make it worse?” At your raised eyebrows, he concedes with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, fine, in any case — maybe try to hint at it before you dive straight in with the kill? See if he reacts?”

“I don’t know, Jax. What if he doesn’t? He’s really not the best at taking hints and reading signs, or that kind of subtle stuff.”

“Then you can just say your shit. All I’m saying is, give him a chance to figure it out on his own. He’s probably really clueless why you reacted so big on something so small, this morning. If you drop hints, maybe he’ll feel it out.”

You nod, somewhat amazed at how sound Jackson’s advice seems. “How are you doing this, Jax? Being a love guru all of a sudden?”

Jackson scoffs. “I’m just tryna put myself in Seokjin’s shoes. If I was in the situation he’s in, this is what I’d like to happen — be given a window to figure out what’s wrong. You’ve been together a long time, hun. It really shouldn’t be that difficult for him.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I won’t be too sure about that. Why does it even matter if he can or cannot, though?”

Jackson seems to be mulling over something before he drops his chin to his chest. “Because you’re supposed to be partners, hun. If you can tell what’s up with him with a single glance, why can't he? Not being good at taking signs is not a good enough excuse. My gut says that he’d be able to, though. And that knowledge will make you feel infinitely better, trust me. It’ll be reassuring to learn that he really knows and understands you well, won’t it?”

You nod, slowly, but you still have your suspicions. Seokjin has just been the kind of guy whose emotional depth goes to a certain extent and then just — well, stops. There are things that he feels and realizes and sees, and there are things that he doesn’t. It isn’t even something he does, you believe. It’s just how he is. Certain feelings just don’t fall in his orbit. And you’ve never found there to be anything wrong with it when he’s been an immaculately amazing boyfriend and tended to every single one of your needs, always. Well, you have never actually needed emotional consoling, too, so you haven’t had the chance to audition him for that. You keep yourself too busy for all that unnecessary mental pressure. It comes as a surprise, but you have never cried on Seokjin’s shoulder in all these years of your togetherness. You’ve kept your head straight and chin up, even during your college exams. And so has Seokjin, because you’ve never seen him cry, either.

Lately, though, things have been kind of weird. The gradual transformation into your professional lives that began after college, has been drastic in the past few months. Seokjin has been constantly prioritizing his career over you, and you have been understanding about it because you agree with it — to an extent. Seokjin believes it all the way through, though, and you have known for a while that you would hit your limit at some point, and would try to bring him back to yourself. Today morning, it seems, you hit that limit. 

You felt dispensable. 

You hate this feeling.

To be very honest, you know you can get over this. You can give it some time, remind yourself of how much your Jin loves you, believe that he is eventually going to come back to you once he settles, and be understanding about the entire thing. 

You can — but you really don’t want to.

Something tells you that this feeling of getting too comfortable will only fester and take a worse form as time goes by. You can wait it out, sure, and hope you aren’t being a pushover as he works on building his career. You are building your career, too, after all, and at least some of it has been for each other. 

The thing is, your plans with Seokjin are long-term—marriage, kids, white-picket fence, and all that. And you believe that if you are sensing a problem now, you better deal with it now before it has the chance to change its form and affect you both when you are at a more responsible point in your life.

Mind made up, you look up at Jackson, immediately grimacing when he forwards a greasy hand to pick up a taco for you. “I don’t…I don’t like tacos. And may I exchange the beer for scotch?”

“You work at a Mexican restaurant, and you don’t like tacos,” Jackson deadpans.

“They mess up my skincare.”

“Oh, fuck off! Have a spinach smoothie with a drink, why don’t you?”

You purse your lips to hold back your laughter at his ire, your own worries forgotten in the moment as Jackson gets up to get you a glass of scotch and some healthier snacking alternative.

“You're a dead man.”

Jimin stops dead in his tracks, arms frozen in the act of putting a t-shirt on. He blinks at Seokjin with big round eyes. “Hyung?” he mumbles, a picture of unblemished innocence, especially when he covers his toned torso with the oversized t-shirt he was in the process of getting into. “What—what’d I do?”

Someone who doesn’t know better would never believe that this young, innocent, frazzled haired fairy-boy could ever do any wrong. But Seokjin knows better. “You chaotic womanizer,” Seokjin nearly hisses, "you've gotta learn to clean after yourself. Honey found a girl in my bed. A girl—in my bed.”

Jimin had the decency to drop the innocent act. “Oh. Oh.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Oh? That’s it?”

"Yeah, well, I clarified to her that it was a one time thing when we got to it. She was obviously expecting something more if she didn't leave when I told her to. Disappointed but not surprised." Jimin is frowning when he comes to sit down on the couch next to Seokjin. “Sorry you two had to see that. You clarified to Honey noona that I’d been the occupant of the room, though, right?” 

“I—what?” Seokjin scoffs. “Why would I even need to do that? She knows that already, obviously. She’s been seeing you for over five years, or have you forgotten?”

Jimin squints. “I mean…okay, fair point, I guess. Why’re you so worked up, then? Did something else happen, too? Where’s she, now?” Jimin looks around the living room as if looking for you.

Seokjin sighs. “Well, I couldn't really get much out before she was storming out of the damn house, altogether.”

Jimin blinks. “Storming out? Why? She… um, was she mad?"

Seokjin opens his mouth – and then shuts it. Was she mad, indeed. "I don't know. She looked kinda mad, yes. But maybe she was in a hurry?" 

"Why would she be mad? Did you try to call her? Text her? It's unlike her to react so big on something so small." Jimin bites down on his lip, looking lost in thought. 

Seokjin shakes his head. "She didn't pick up or text back."

“There’s definitely got to be an underlying reason for her being like this. Are you sure you guys haven’t been fighting, hyung?” 

Seokjin sighs. “Yes, Jimin, I’m absolutely certain that there hasn’t been any fighting of any sorts between the two of us before today.” He pauses. “Well, she was slightly irritated that I didn’t check her texts last night, but she knows I go to bed at eleven on days leading up to a shoot, so that one’s on her.”

Jimin looks genuinely concerned, which, in turn, makes Seokjin concerned. Jimin isn't the type to stress over stuff if he can help it. Sure, he cares about the boys and would always be down to do whatever he can for them, but his throwing-caution-to-the-wind way of life causes him to not take most of the things in life seriously.

You’ve been like an older sister to the boys ever since Seokjin started dating you and introduced you to them. They all have their ways of showing their respect and affection to you. Well, maybe not Jungkook because he can’t get over getting unnecessarily intimidated by Seokjin enough to relax around you. 

Jimin, especially, always seems to be affected by any tension in Seokjin’s relationship. Everyone can see how it upsets his entire life when you two are fighting, although he’d never admit to it. He doesn’t need to, because it’s pretty obvious when he becomes a cranky six-year-old who hates the world. 

Right now, he has a guilty frown on his face. "I should've seen to it that Suzette left before I went to shower," he mumbles as if talking to himself. “Shouldn’t have trusted her to leave just because I told her to.” He looks up at Seokjin with troubled eyes. "I'm sorry, hyung."

Seokjin can not believe himself when he shakes his head at Jimin's apology—this little demon causes so much chaos in all their lives that any apology coming from him should be justified and welcome. But this one isn't really on him. "It's not entirely your fault."

Jimin's demeanor changes a bit and the attitude Seokjin is used to witnessing makes an appearance. "Right? That's what I was thinking, too!" Jimin exclaims, some of the concern on his face lifting. "You have to talk to Honey noona and make things right, though, hyung. She’s the only womanly touch in our man cave. We’d all be barbarians without her.” Jimin looks very wary and kind of nervous.

“It’s funny you would crave her ‘womanly’ presence when she’s rushed off because of a woman that you brought home.” Seokjin scrunches his nose. "And I said it isn't entirely on you, because it is partially on you, Park Jimin. You borrowed my room to smoke up in. Why couldn't you take your Suzy back to your own room?"

"Suzette," Jimin corrects under his breath while shaking his head. "Yeah, I should've, but… your room just felt like a better choice during the high," he finishes in a mumble, dragging a hand down his face. “Hyung,” Jimin says with a pout on his lips, “the last time you two fought was two years ago, remember? On your birthday? When Hobi hyung dumped cake in noona’s hair and she had her first shoot for that bigshot magazine, the next day?”

Seokjin nods with a sigh. “She yelled at me for having stupid friends, and I yelled at her for caring more about the shoot that having a good time on my birthday. Yes, I remember.”

“And then she didn’t visit us for a whole week. Please don’t let that happen, again.” Jimin looks up at Seokjin with big, round eyes. “I can’t take that kind of unrest in my life."

Seokjin briefly wonders, if Jimin’s nightly conquests were to see this side of him, would they run in the opposite direction or be more attracted to him? Jimin definitely needs someone in his life that would bring out this side in him and stay to provide him the emotional comfort he requires when he gets like this. 

“I will try not to, Jiminie, but…” Seokjin shuts his eyes. “I seriously do not understand her actions from the morning,” he finishes in a mumble.

“Maybe she’s—maybe she’s worried about something else? Some other aspect of her life?” Jimin suggests with wide eyes. “And she’s just projecting onto you.”

“As sound as the explanation is, I am literally involved in ninety percent of the aspects in her life,” Seokjin says with a twist to his lips. “I would know if something was wrong anywhere.”

“That’s cocky of you to say,” Jimin snarkily comments with narrowed eyes. At Seokjin’s raised eyebrows, he amends, “That’s cocky of you to say, hyung-nim.”

Seokjin scoffs, but then he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s true. We work at the same restaurant, we’re scouted by the same agency. Even her agent is best friends with mine—she gossips a ton about how Honey passes up so many opportunities and pisses her agent off. Her friends are, well—” Seokjin stops short when it hits him. “Wang. Wang could know something!”

Jimin is looking at him skeptically when Seokjin meets the younger’s eyes. “I just think you should have a simple talk with noona first before digging around.”

That is sensible advice. Seokjin nods as he pulls his phone out.

“Just find out what’s been troubling her, hyung. You two are rational people, I’m sure you’ll work it out.” Jimin pauses to scratch the back of his head. “Just please don’t let this be another fight like that one?”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin finally says with a pat on Jimin’s shoulder as he finishes sending off another text to you, “this one is nothing like that fight.”

Turns out, this fight really is not like that one. Or any other fights Seokjin has ever had with you, in fact, because you’re giving him the silent treatment. 

You’ve never given him the silent treatment. 

Not even when you were students and didn’t have a load of time on your hands and used to waste precious sleep hours arguing over stupid shit that would probably resolve itself if you just slept on it and looked back at it with a fresh state of mind. Not even then did you forego talking.

Needless to say, Seokjin is distressed.

You drive to the house to pick him up at your usual time, the next morning, after not having responded to any of his calls or texts for the entire day. Seokjin is aghast as he gets into the car.

“Honey! What is going on? Why didn’t you—where have you been?”

You simply start the engine and take off. “Busy,” you murmur after a while.

Soekjin’s head is close to exploding. “Busy? Doing what?”

Your face remains stoic as you weave through the morning traffic. Seokjin looks at you. You’re dressed up in your waitressing outfit that consists of a shirt, skirt and tights, and being who you are, Seokjin can proudly say that you would stand out to be the most well dressed server in the field. You’re always pristine and tidy — no accidents happen to you at the job ever. No spillage of drinks or ketchups, no soiled hands being wiped down on your skirt. Nothing even ruins your manicure. 

It is something that Seokjin has always tried to keep up with, this cleanliness streak of yours. Because he has always assumed you would expect it out of him, too. You were attracted to the cover model version of him, after all. It is quite natural that you would have those kinds of expectations. And Seokjin has always been more than happy to deliver. It has become a part of him, in fact. He doesn't even chew with his mouth open even when he's among the boys, anymore.

It has, somewhat, made him practical and less emotional in life, too, but he doesn't really think of it as a bad thing. You have always been practical in life – the most ambitious girl he has ever met, someone that has always prioritized her career and goals over everything else. Seokjin has admired that since college, and has tried to show you that he has similar priorities even if he has had to work on thinking from his mind more than his heart.

But when you are already by his side, what does he even need his heart for, anymore, when it's already yours?

Now, looking at you sitting with a morose expression on your face as you give him the cold shoulder, Seokjin is just as much in love with you as he was when he first met you.

“Stuff,” you say with a shrug, after some extended silence. “You should know about that, right? Your schedule’s always busier than mine and I never complain.”

Your sharp words have him reeling. Whatever do you even mean by that? “Uhm, okay. Fair enough. But… did you really not have the time to respond to a single text?”

“It gets impossible sometimes, Jin, you know how it is.”

Seokjin frowns. He does know that, but he doesn’t feel okay. Something is very off with you. It is as if you’re saying something else and expecting him to discern a different meaning out of it. 

He doesn’t understand why, though. You, of all people, should know how terrible he is at decoding signs.

He sighs.

Seokjin, after his conversation with Jimin yesterday, had decided to ask you about the morning’s incident, head on, whenever you called him back. But you didn’t, and this is the first opportunity he’s had to talk to you, so he decides to bring it up, now. “What—what happened yesterday morning, babe? You got really mad and stormed off, and… I mean, you’ve got to know the girl had been Jimin’s companion for the night, right? You know him, how he is!”

You say nothing, hands tightening a bit on the steering wheel. Seokjin looks down at his own hands.

“You know I was only surprised at your words because we really do not have the time to be discussing silly things." He shuts his heart down when it tries to tell him to go soft. He knows it isn't something you would appreciate. "After five years, you know what I’m capable of right? You can never start getting ideas, because that would be insane and stupid. I’m already so supremely occupied as it is between two jobs, when would I even have the time to cheat, right?” he jokes, snorting to himself.

You’re still quiet, but your tongue comes out to moisten your lips. It is a nervous tick of yours which Seokjin recognizes very well, because with your skincare and scheduled regular application of lip balms, your lips never need the extra moisture.

He frowns. Was he too straightforward? But this is exactly how you communicate with him! “Hey, is everything okay, babe?”

You exhale, noisily. “Everything’s fine, Jin,” you finally say with a roll of your eyes. “And you’re right. I know you wouldn’t cheat. You don’t have the time to chat me up, how are you gonna pick someone new to impress, huh?” 

Your snort sounds lacking in humor, but Seokjin still gives a couple of stilted chuckles. Even so, he's still somewhat relieved. “Right. Just so we’re certain, that was a joke, right? I mean, it would be really ridiculous of you to think that I would—”

“Yes, Jin!” you cut him off with a deep frown. “If I wanted to talk to you about something, or accuse you, or confront you — I’d do that without you having to prompt me. Stop obsessing over yesterday and stop trying to explain yourself. I know it was Jimin’s doing.”

Seokjin feels immensely relaxed at the conviction with which you say the last sentence, certainly, but something is still off. “Why were you ignoring me, then?”

“I just didn’t have anything to say to you.” You stop at a red light, the last one before you reach the restaurant, and turn to look at Seokjin with really vacant eyes. He doesn’t like your stare one bit. “We’ve been together five years, babe. If neither of us have got anything of significance to say, I’d rather not text too much, if that’s okay with you? I’ve got a busy schedule to work around, too, you know?”

Seokjin wants to remind you that both of you had something of significance to say after you left his place in anger, but chooses to just roll with whatever you’re playing at. Maybe he's thinking too much. He nods. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Great,” you breathe out, somehow looking disappointed along with the preexisting sorrowful expression you had on your face.

You really do not have a concrete explanation for why you acted the way you did with Seokjin, this morning. 

You were supposed to hint at being mad, not blatantly try to give him a taste of his own medicine. It could turn out to be a good thing if he eventually starts to miss you and reaches out, sure, but playing mind games never feels right to you. But when he started to joke about not having time to cheat, and something just turned off in you. He really could’ve seriously reassured you of his love. That would’ve been actually comforting. But no. He chose to joke about that, too. You didn’t feel like putting in all that energy anymore, after that.

Now, you sit down in the break room to check your phone during your ten minutes’ rest break. A text message floats at the top of your notifications.

Jax 🚽 Hey How’d it go?

With an exhale, you decide to call him back. Your fingers are too tired to type, and Jackson is sure to launch off into a rampage of texts the moment you tell him you’ve tried to turn the tables on Seokjin.

Seokjin is in the kitchen, his usual rest break not being for another hour, so you don’t have to worry about him walking in.

“Hey!” Jackson jovially greets you as soon as he picks the phone. “Did you get my text?”

“I did, yes,” you respond in a calm voice. “I’ve been looping milkshake mugs through my fingers since eight am, they needed some rest, so I decided to call.”

“Yeah, no, it’s cool. I was in a really boring class, anyway. So. How'd it go?"

You pull in your lip between your teeth. "I… I kinda ended up telling him I am a busy person too and that we shouldn’t text that much."

You hear silence instead of the outburst you'd expected. 

"Jax?"

"Are you actually gonna try to play a mind game with the dumbest human being you know on earth?" Jackson so very eloquently asks, his interpretation making you pinch the bridge of your nose. “He’s never even gonna figure it out!”

“I know how it sounds, okay?” You exhale. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“Okay, alright, one thing at a time. So, no coddling?"

"Not a single soft word. Just more expectations of me understanding, and claiming that anything but that would be stupid of me. He acts like I'm supposed to know everything about him and everyone in his group of friends," you mutter in irritation. “As if those dumbasses know the first thing about themselves.”

You realize you're being a bit harsh, because his friends – basically your younger brothers, at this point – are a bunch of clueless idiots that love, adore and respect you. You shouldn't be badmouthing them, Seokjin’s growing callousness towards you isn't their doing. It's his own. 

You sigh. You really miss how things used to be when you were in college.

“Uh, I think we need to rewind a bit. What happened? What triggered this?”

It makes you smile a little when Jackson asks that. At least your best knows you’re not wholly clinically insane. “Well… I drove him to work. He…" your brows lower at the recollection, "he was the first to bring up yesterday morning. And yet again, he gave me the same you've got to know this and that crap, and then he tried to assure me in the dumbest possible way. Do you know what he said, Jax, do you?”

“Um, do I wanna know?”

“He said, and I quote, he doesn’t have the time to cheat. Jackson Wang, are you hearing this? He really straight up said he was too busy to cheat on me and so I should rest assured! Who says that?!”

“He must’ve meant it as a joke—”

“Yeah, he said that, too, and then very immaculately added that it’d be ridiculous of me to think otherwise. I have lost count of how many times the words ridiculous and stupid came up.”

“Goddammit.”

“Goddammit is right,” you mumble, morosely resting your head on your palm.

“What did he say, by the way? When you told him to text less?”

You give a wry chuckle. "Well, he said it sounded alright to him."

"Son of a bitch. You – you two are messed up, man. Messed up bad. Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't? You don't wanna text less because you're busy, you want him to dote on you because you miss him!" Jackson sounds beyond frustrated. "And it doesn't fucking sound alright to him! It sounds scary, it sounds confusing, it sounds like something you would never say to him!" He groans. "But none of you would say that shit to each other! You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess."

You reel from the onslaught of his harsh words, eyes widened and breath stuttering. Jackson isn't usually the type to pay so much attention to your relationship problems. But this time, you guess, he has garnered the depth of your unhappiness and thus has gotten so involved.

You realize he is right. Nothing good can come out of any turned tables, because Seokjin is, anyways, not even going to be able to work out the problem by himself. He may even go around talking to his friends about how you were being cold with him and not giving him any time, and still not realize he has been doing the same to you. He is thick like that. 

When his friends tell you tales of his compassion, you're unable to relate. You've never seen that side of him. He has probably grown up from that emotionally overwhelmed high school graduate who had made friends on a whim, the night of his graduation.

You certainly don't appreciate the emotional abstinence, though, and would very much rather prefer if he would open up a bit more. It would help you be more open with him, without fearing him calling you "stupid" in response.

But it’s still alright, you accept him with that thick brain of his, because he’s still only ever going to be the only one for you.

"How are you two gonna get around to having a proper chat if you just keep building more walls between you both?" Jackson asks after the long pause from your end, this time softer. “I’m sorry, babe, I was wrong. Giving him signs and making him realize shit won’t work. It was stupid of me to suggest that. It’s probably why you ended up being so caustic with him.

“No, no, it was all me, Jax. I could’ve chosen to not listen to you, but my ego got in the way, I guess. It’s not exactly easy, telling your boyfriend you’re feeling neglected. I mean, what if he laughs in my face and tells me I’m being paranoid? What if he thinks I have no regard for his career — or mine — because my priorities don’t align with his?” You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as your insecurities attack you.

“Hey, no. None of that is gonna happen if you really share with him what you’ve been feeling. No hints, no sarcasm, you’re gonna have to tell him point blank. Allow yourself to be raw. He’s the love of your life. You don’t have to protect yourself from him, right?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. You’re absolutely right, Jax. But I really have no idea how to even approach him, at this point. He’s either too busy with shoots, or with the guys, or some meeting. I cannot do this on call, because that always leads to misunderstandings.” You bite down on your lower lip, contemplating. “But I’ll figure something out.”

"Yes, you will. You always do. So, that’s good then. In the meanwhile, can you at least clean up this latest pile of poop? The talking less thingy is gonna make you two more distant, hun."

You scrunch your nose at his metaphor, but then your shoulders slump. "I don't know, Jackson. The way he so impassively agreed to it would make me sound really stupid if I take it back. And given what he keeps saying, he really doesn’t want me to sound stupid."

Jackson gives a snort at that. “Hah, funny. But listen. At the end of the day, he’s your boyfriend. You're gonna have to really decide if you're trying to get your boyfriend to give you more love, or if you're fighting a battle of egos and would like to bend him to you."

You bite your lip. “You make me sound manipulative.”

“You yourself confessed you let your ego come into this, one time. Don’t let that happen again. I’m trying to make you realize that complicated problems can have simple solutions, too. If only you’d communicate. Just talk to him soon, please, and make him understand why you’re hurt. Don’t carry on with this stupid cold war, okay? You gotta figure out exactly what you want, first.”

“You know what I want, Jax. You’re literally the only person that does, actually,” you remind him with a sigh.

“Oh, he is, isn’t he?”

You freeze, eyes bulging at the familiar voice. “I’ll… I’ll call you back,” you mumble before you disconnect the call and turn to look over your shoulder at Seokjin’s unreadable face. He stands with his arms crossed, still in his uniform but without the apron. “Jin… what—uh…”

“What am I doing here?” he scoffs, lips curling in distaste as he stares you down. “Well, I was going to the loo when I saw you sitting here. You looked upset, so I thought I’d check in on you on my way back.” He clicks his tongue, a dry chuckle tumbling out. “But apparently, you’ve got other people doing it for you, already.”

You wince, shutting your eyes. The one time he was finally going to give you some much needed attention — you sent a bad message his way. 

“So. Good to know there actually is someone who knows what you want. Would’ve been easier if it were me, though, given how I stand to be the one that is to deliver.” Seokjin sounds pissed off, and despite your irritation, you really want to make him understand.

You rub at your forehead. “Stop talking like that, Jin, it was just Jackson.”

“Wang?” He seems to seethe more, for some reason. “Of course, it’s fucking Wang!”

You frown, standing up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin looks at you incredulously. “You—do you not see how this looks? You have problems with me, Honey, but you choose to discuss them with him? Who’s he, your therapist?”

“He’s my best friend, Jin, someone I trust,” you grit out.

Seokjin seems to take it the wrong way, his agitated expressions slowly fading into a blank stare. “Oh. You trust him, as opposed to…” He trails off with a shrug, but the implication is as obvious as it can be.

“Jin—”

He raises a hand up, palm facing you as he looks away. “If you need some time apart, you should tell me in plain words. You know I’m not good at reading signs.”

Seokjin gives you a blank stare before turning around to leave the area. You stand rooted to your place, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Some time apart? Has he lost his mind? 

He really is a huge freaking idiot who cannot pause to think what implications his words have. He seriously doesn’t recognize what all his “don’t be ridiculous/overdramatic/stupid” speeches do to you. You realize you should really make him understand. This has gone on for way too long.

But maybe you should take some time to yourself to cool off before that. You don’t want to say the wrong thing in your rage and complicate things further.

You sigh to yourself as you slump back into the bench you were sat on before.

You’d set out to tell your boyfriend you were feeling neglected, but you ended up making him think you want to be apart. How the heck did you get here?

You belatedly recall Jackson's words.

Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't?

You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess.

Your usually dumbheaded best friend was right on this one, you realize. You should’ve just talked like a normal human being instead of letting Seokjin’s words get to you and get pissy in retaliation.

You give a weary sigh. 

Seokjin is grateful for the sudden busyness he’s got on his schedule, or he would explode from all the pent up frustration you have been causing him. 

He realized he wasn’t as upset with you as he was irritated, right after he walked away from you on Monday. He dropped you a text with some excuse of needing to stay back so that he wasn’t forced to ride with you in the car again, and later took the bus home. 

You had told Jackson Wang about what was troubling you, but not him. It made Seokjin feel upset, incompetent and more than a little insecure. Seokjin absolutely hates feeling insecure. Especially about you. You’re the singular most precious entity in his life — not that you are an entity, per se — and anything that seeks to threaten your position in his life or his position in yours, makes him lose his shit.

So it was understandable that he jumped to unfairly disproportionate magnitudes of conclusions that day. When he thought about it, later, he could easily tell that you are just mad at him and not actually contemplating leaving him, not even for a little while. Not that he’d just sit back and have you do that so easily.

Seokjin also hates overthinking, but that is all he did for the entirety of his Monday. 

Monday, though, was the last time he had time to overthink. Life got exponentially busier after that.

Immediately after his shoot on Tuesday, he received his agent’s call and was informed of his jam packed schedule for the remainder of the week. He was pulled into two separate magazine ad shoots on Wednesday, a perfume ad film drank up all of his Thursday, and today, a hair product ad film needed him to report to a sunrise point in the city at the ass-crack of dawn. The sky was still dark when he rode across the city with his agent at nearly four in the morning. 

And now, the afternoon sun beats down on his car as he drives back alone, his agent staying back to tend to some business. Stopping at a red light, he reaches for his spinach smoothie with one hand and his phone with the other. Ugh, he feels beyond tired.

Blearily, he looks down at the device around a yawn, fingers habitually reaching for your chat.

He took a week off from the restaurant and dropped you a text, late Tuesday evening, informing you of the same.

Honey✨❤👸 Hm, kay. Good luck x

Unsurprisingly, that stands to be your last message in his inbox. It’s been four days.

Sighing, he swipes a hand down his tired face and exits out of the message app. He went to bed at nine o’clock, last night, and owing to the way he has trained his body to sleep on command, he did manage to get a sleep of nearly six hours, too. But it was fitful and plagued with nightmares featuring you. 

Knowing he doesn't have to be at the restaurant until Monday and that his next gig isn’t until Wednesday, he cannot wait to get back home and drink his weight in alcohol before he sleeps his way through the weekend.

Just as he has moved past the intersection, his phone rings. 

Honey✨❤👸 calling...

He nearly spits the smoothie he just sipped at.

Coughing, he roughly jostles the plastic cup back in the holder and pulls up to a side of the road to pick up the call. “Hey,” he breathes into the phone, embarrassed at his desperation.

“Jin. Um, hi.” You sound awkward, as if you…have been compelled to call him due to some reason.

He is immediately worried. “Honey? Is everything okay, do you need something?”

He hates himself for being so concerned when you have been neglecting him for so many days – yet again, despite your spat at the restaurant – instead of finally talking to him about what’s bothering you, but he can’t help it. At the end of the day, you are the love of his life. 

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. It’s just, um. Can you pick me up from the restaurant?” you sound nervous.

But, Seokjin realizes, I was right. You do need something. He clears his throat. “Uh, okay, I guess,” he agrees before stopping short when he realizes the time. “Wait, it’s barely even two. Why are you leaving?” he asks, confused and a little concerned. You work your shift till five every day and till eight on weekends.

“Tomorrow is Halloween, Jin. We’re closing for the weekend, remember?”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open on a gasp. He really had forgotten. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there in five, wait up.”

He swerves the car into the lane and takes off in the direction of the restaurant. 

He laughs at himself. He has been so caught up in work that he literally forgot Halloween. He wonders if this is what actual adulting is.

He is stopping before the restaurant within three minutes of your phone call, eyes immediately spotting your delicate figure standing on the sidewalk with your hands crossed against your chest.

You step down from the curb when you spot his car, and walk towards him. He watches your elegant legs as they beautifully fall in a straight line. Even when exiting your job as a waitress, you’re every bit the elegant model he met in college. Your hips sway tantalizingly, and something akin to longing swirls in his chest.

He composes himself quickly when you cross the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You awkwardly clear your throat as Seokjin busies himself with starting the vehicle, unsure if he should initiate conversation.

“Um, sorry about this. You were probably getting ready for shoot,” you finally say. “Byulyi dropped me off today. She wasn’t picking her phone up. I was trying to get a cab for half an hour. And the bus stop’s really far—”

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. You should’ve called me sooner.” Seokjin catches your apprehensive gaze on his oversized hoodie when he chances a glance at you. He sighs. “I was returning home from shoot, actually.”

He feels you stiffen, and he feels even more mentally drained at this. You used to be updated with his schedule to the tee — just short of having an actual copy of the calendar his agent carries on him. And the same goes for him with your schedule. This feels so wrong.

You are quiet for a while, your hands fidgeting in his peripheral vision.

“How—how was it?” you finally say, voice coming out like a croak.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “The usual. Blinding, tiring, exhaustive. I did okay, I guess.”

He feels your gaze snap up to drill holes into his skull. Your eyes are wide when he checks. “Okay? Since when do you do anything less than amazing at shoots, babe?”

He feels endeared at your casual use of a pet name. “I had to get up at three in the morning and go through a skincare routine. Then drive across the entire city to get to the location, because they wanted to capture actual sunrise. I was more tired than excited by the time they rolled cameras, so.” He shrugs. “Can’t really say I gave my best today.”

You nod at his admission. 

Seokjin almost jumps when his phone rings, again.

Jiminie calling...

He feels you shift in your seat. His mouth sours at the reminder of that Sue girl that started off this entire tussle between you and him. Fucking Jimin and his conquests. What happened to the shy and more than a little glum looking freshman he let into his living space, three years ago?

Your hand suddenly reaches forth to accept the call, putting it on loudspeaker, immediately. Seokjin gapes at you, momentarily looking away from the road. 

“Uh…hyung?” Jimin’s confused voice echoes in the car. 

Seokjin snaps out of his daze when you gesture towards the device. “Wh—Jimin, hi, what’s — what’s up?” he stumbles his way through a haphazard greeting.

“Hyung, I needed a favor. Are you on your way back from the shoot, right now?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin sees you freeze in your seat.

He feels a perverse sense of satisfaction. Yes, take that! Park Jmin knows of my schedule better than you do! This is what you get for ghosting me! “I was, yeah. What is it?”

“Oh, great! I kinda need your help, hyung. My tire gave out. Could you pick me up from the Kappa hall?”

Seokjin scowls. “Yah! Who am I, your butler? Hop on a damn bus!”

He notices you pursing your lips, no doubt finding his agitation humorous — you always do. 

“Hyu~ng,” Jimin whines. “I would take the bus, but the next one leaves in forty-five minutes and I need to be back within an hour!”

“What? Why?”

“I started on my sem project really late, hyung, and now I gotta spend any time I can spare at the rehearsal hall. I’m meeting a choreographer here in an hour. Please help me out!” Jimin is still whining, and maybe his reasoning is kind of alright, but—

Seokjin is tired to his bones. He literally cannot drive all the way down to your apartment and then drive back to the university campus to pick Jimin up.

He sighs, wearily. “Jimin… I’m really tired.” 

“And I’m really desperate, hyung! Dancing is tough! And the subject I've chosen, tougher. I haven't done ballet since first semester, Freshman year! I have to work my butt off and be done in under two months."

Seokjin exhales, feeling beyond exhausted. But then your finger is tapping on the screen and the call has been muted. Seokjin’s surprised eyes fly up to meet yours. You look conflicted, biting down on your lower lip as you shake your head with a frown.

“You should go home and rest, Jin. Leave the car with me, I’ll pick him up.”

“Hyung? Say something?”

Seokjin blinks. “You…”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll pick him up, yeah. He’ll drop me off and drive back to your place.”

“Hyung?! Did you put me on mute, or what? I can't hear a thing!”

“Tell him you’ll be there in ten!” you say, unmuting the call.

“I’m in the car, the network must have glitched. I’ll, uh… be there in ten?” Seokjin nervously finishes off, looking at you in question. You give him a nod, blinking slowly. “Wait up, okay?”

“Oh my God, thank you so much, hyung!” Jimin practically squeals through the phone. “I’ll be in the ice cream shop across the building. I love you, hyung-nim!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and disconnects the call. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes as he takes a right, now moving in the direction of his apartment instead of yours. “You sure about this? Jimin, um, knows. About our…” Seokjin doesn’t want to call it the f-word, because he would like to believe that you two aren’t actually fighting. “You being upset, I mean,” he settles for the easier alternative. “He might ask questions.”

You give a small huff of wry laugh. “I can handle it, Seokjin. I’ve known Jimin for almost three years now.”

Seokjin doesn’t like it when you address him by his full name. And so, his lips remain pursed for the remainder of the ride, only parting to tell you to “drive safe and text me when you finally get home,” and then he walks inside his apartment without looking back.

He hears his car come to life and then speed away. He shuts his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter. Gathering his emotional as well as physical bearings, he opens the refrigerator to rummage through some leftovers to munch on while he breaks out a six pack of Budweiser. 

Before his fried rice has even reheated, Seokjin groans at the sight of an all too jovial Hoseok entering the kitchen with a glint in his eyes. “No, Hobi. Not now.”

“What? I didn’t say a word, hyung!”

Seokjin winces, shutting his eyes just as the microwave beeps. “I don’t have enough energy to deal with your general aura, right now,” he mumbles, extracting the piping hot glass bowl. He leans down to open one of the compartments beneath the kitchen table to get to the beer that he’s been dreaming of for nearly an hour, now. “I’m dead on my feet and—woah!” Seokjin gasps, cutting himself off.

Hoseok hops into the kitchen, coming around to stand behind Seokjin. “So you found ’em,” he says around a chuckle.

“Found ’em? This is you?” Seokjin whips his head around to glare at Hoseok up from his crouch. “Why is my liquor closet resembling a liquor shop, Hobi? Why do we have all this—” he turns around to read the labels, cursing under his breath. “Why do we have,” he pauses to count, “five bottles of Tequila and eight bottles of Vodka?”

Hoseok frowns in concern. “Eight? There should be ten, hyung, check again.”

Seokjin actually gasps, this time. “What the hell, Jung Hoseok? Explain yourself before I start throwing hands!”

Hoseok smacks a palm against his forehead, taking Seokjin by surprise, yet again. “Tonight’s the Halloween party, hyung! Did you actually forget?”

Seokjin screws his eyes shut, letting his head roll back with a frustrated whine. “No~o, don’t tell me it's tonight. Halloween’s tomorrow, right? Why is the party tonight?”

“Yes, hyung, Halloween in tomorrow, which is why it would be stupid to hold the party when Halloween is ending.”

Seokjin finds the logic to be very severely flawed, but his energy is draining out fast and he cannot keep up with this quarrel. There’s no point, anyway. He’s known about this party for nearly a month. And Hoseok isn’t going to postpone a whole party just because Seokjin is tired.

“You look tired, hyung. You should rest. Recharge yourself before the party, okay? There’s plenty of time.” Hoseok pats Seokjin on the shoulder with a kind smile.

“I’m not even in the mood to party, Hobi,” Seokjin mutters, reaching behind all the glass bottles to extract his pack of cans. 

Hoseok scowls at Seokjin. “Because you’re upset about your fight, I realize that. All the more reason to party, hyung! Take your mind off it for some time, why don’t you? You don’t even have to dress up, come as yourself.”

“I’d rather just drink myself to sleep and not wake up for the next twenty four hours.”

Hoseok blocks his path as Seokjin moves to exit the kitchen. “Is Honey coming?”

Seokjin sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Hobi. Did you invite her?”

“No, hyung, because you said you would.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. He completely forgot. “Then she isn’t coming.”

Without listening to his protests, Seokjin trudges upstairs with his food and beer. He will be forced to come down for at least a couple shots, he is certain, so he better make as much of the time he has on his hands as he can.

These days, it seems to be becoming a pattern for you to do things without really understanding why you do them. 

You nibble at your bottom lip as you recall how gaunt and pale Seokjin had looked when you sat in the car. You had been really self-centered as it is, not really keeping in touch with him for four days, and then reaching out when you needed help. You couldn’t bear to think, on top of everything, that he had driven you home despite his extreme exhaustion while you sat back selfishly and let him drive around the city to pick Jimin up when he looked like a ghost.

You shake your head at yourself as Jimin jogs down the road to enter the car, ten seconds after you texted him. 

His gaze is slightly hesitant when he meets your eyes, even though his smile is nothing but genuine. “Hello, noona. How come you are…” he trails off, gesturing around the two of you.

You start the car, shrugging one shoulder. “Seokjin came to pick me up. Now you’re gonna drop me off.”

Jimin gives you a huge smile, before his eyebrows suddenly lower. You look away, veering onto the road. “Wait. Were you in the car with him when I called?”

You chuckle. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles around a small laugh.

You hum to yourself as you drive, distracting yourself from the thoughts that keep encircling your head. Seokjin is your boyfriend, no matter how mad you might be at him — you love him and care about him. Which is why you have tried to help him out. Not to mention, you felt slightly guilty, as it is, about calling him to pick you up. Why is your gesture of goodwill bothering you, then?

This is what you do for people you care about. Seokjin would do the same.

Your train of thoughts suddenly comes to a screeching halt.

Would he? Would he, really?

“You okay, noona?”

You jolt back from your thoughts, wide eyes turning to look at Jimin. “Wha—yes, yeah, I'm fine.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’re gripping the wheel really hard.”

You look at your tightly clenched fists, and immediately ease them. “Oh, uh. Sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Understandably,” Jimin mutters, looking out of the side window when you turn to look at him.

You purse your lips and press down on the accelerator. 

A few beats of silence pass between you two before Jimin clears his throat. “Can I say something?” he asks you in a soft voice, looking nothing like the seductive persona he puts forth to get ladies falling in his bed. 

You exhale. “Sure.”

“You, um. You are not just hyung’s girlfriend, you know?” he says slowly.

You scoff. “Of course, I do. I am also the very best server my restaurant has ever seen and the best struggling model you’ll ever meet, on the side.”

Jimin snorts, before giggling with his eyes closed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You do. But you do not want to face it. You want to be selfish, for once. You do absolutely know that you have been ignoring all the boys in your anger at Seokjin, but you absolutely do not wish to do anything about it. Not until you’ve resolved this tense air between you and Seokjin.

“You are also a part of our little family,” Jimin quietly finishes.

You suck your lips in at that. The word “family'' really gets to you. 

He’s right, isn’t he? 

All eight of you — well, nine, now, with the addition of Taehyung’s girlfriend — have been a family since the day you met these guys.

You smile as the memories start to filter in.

You had had a giant crush on Seokjin since the very first time you saw him in your Freshman year. Well, having a crush on the guy wasn’t that unheard of given how handsome he was. It also helped matters that he modelled for the cover page of your university’s journal within his first month in college. What surprised you was his reciprocated interest when you both finally got to know each other, thanks to Byulyi. Your current roommate was majoring in photography back then, and somehow roped the two of you into modelling for her portfolio. Seokjin asked you out during the sixth month of your Freshman year.

You recall being introduced to Yoongi in your Sophomore year, when he entered your college as a Music major. You found him laid back, calm but really sassy, and fun to be around. The three of you often hung out together, and you took immense pleasure in singling Seokjin out with the two of your sarcastic back and forths.

In your senior year, Hoseok transferred to your college as a Sophomore, and Taehyung and Jimin entered as Freshmen. 

Hoseok was literally the most lively person you’d ever met in your life. There wasn’t a single moment of boredom next to him. He was easily given the responsibility of planning all your outings and parties, henceforth — a position he still holds with full competence.

Taehyung was usually found to be lost in his head more often than not in his initial college days. He was confused about his major for two entire semesters. With inputs from the group, when he eventually picked Art, he eased into college life. After that, he came out to be one of the weirdest and unwittingly funny guys in the group. You still don’t get how he was the first amongst all the boys to find him a girl.

Jimin was a really quiet and reserved individual, at first. He very rarely interacted with you all, choosing to stay holed up in his dorm room, instead, that Taehyung had forced him to share with him. You suspected he was recovering from a recent heartbreak. It became evident when he started dating someone within a week of getting into college, only to confess it was a rebound when he got dumped. The whoring around that began after the whole debacle is yet to cease, though. Obviously. 

Hoseok comes from a really well-off family, and had brought along with him the four-bedroom apartment he currently resides in with Yoongi, Jimin and your boyfriend. His uncle gave it away to him, rent-free of course, and he proposed to share it with the rest of the guys. Seokjin and Yoongi were immediately on board, more than eager to leave the chaotic dorm life behind. Taehyung, contrarily, decided he wanted to get the whole college experience and refused to quit the dorms. Jimin, then, left the dorm he shared with Taehyung to move in with the elders.

You met Jungkook immediately after your graduation on the boy’s eighteenth birthday. He instantly struck you as a smart kid, really good at singing as well as art. Yoongi disclosed he wanted to be a music major in your college, and you tried to encourage Jungkook about it, but the guy could hardly even look at you. It was cute but also hilarious how much he was scared of Seokjin, and by principle, you.

You believe that is still true. Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you haven’t seen Jungkook ever actually relax around the two of you.

“Noona?”

You blink, coming back to the present as Jimin calls out to you. You take a deep breath, the memories hitting you with tender emotions. All these people are really precious to you, aren’t they? The bunch of you really are a family, aren’t you?

A sad smile swims up to your face. You miss the boys.

When he calls again, you turn to look at Jimin, questioningly. 

“Please don’t be mad at hyung,” he slowly says, looking down at his lap. In this moment, he looks quite unlike the Jimin you are used to and reminds you of, instead, the one you’d first met. “He might lack tact, sometimes, but he really loves you a lot. You’re his whole world. Whatever it is that you are angry about, you should tell him about it. I don’t think he would be able to figure it out by himself.”

This, you agree with. “I’ll try, Jiminie.”

“We all miss you. Especially Hobi hyung and I,” he says with a lopsided excuse of a smile. 

You resist the urge to fluff his hair. Jimin and Hoseok have been like the younger brothers you never had. You miss them, too. 

He suddenly chuckles. "And Yoongi hyung hides it well, but I think he's the one that misses you the most. No one helps him roast Jin hyung quite like you do."

You roll your eyes. "Of course not. It's a waste for Yoongi to even try to find a better partner at roasting Jin."

You spot your apartment building and pull up to it. 

“I’ll try to talk to Jin as soon as I can, Jimin, I promise. Don't worry so much about it,” you say as you step out, patting the boy once on his head. "I miss you all, too."

You give a small wave and faint smile to him as he drives away.

tagging: @shrimpmsg​

note: so! a lil bit of backstory and the infamous halloween party - how we feelin’ so far? the next part is ~12k words, too, and i’ll post it next wednesday, wait around~ 😘💕

SECOND PART OUT NOW: read here!

© jimilter | 2021

[jimlingss]

Happy Holidays! Can you write a Jimin hybrid Au? I love you and your fics!

Every day, we stray closer to being a furry.

↳ Floof’s Tail

3k || 80% Fluff, 20% Angst || Park Jimin || Hybrid!AU

You’re beaming with excitement.

The first time you saw her through the glass window, you thought she was just a visitor. You were so happy when she wanted to play with you and only you. And you were even more ecstatic when she came a second time days later. You spent time together for hours on end, just like many of the other humans that came around to keep you and the other hybrids company.

But unlike them, she adopted you.

You still can’t believe you now have a home, something to call yours, and an owner that you love so much.

Soyeon stops in the hall and her hand lifts to pet you, gesture affectionate and eyes loving. You lean into her touch, and she smiles before withdrawing away much to your disappointment. 

“This is it, Y/N.”

Her arms motion theatrically to the door, and then she pulls out her keys with a grin. “This is my home and it’s going to be your home from now on too.”

Your tail is practically wagging and you look at the gray door, loving what’s inside already without needing to see it. You don’t remember much of the street name or the apartment building, but you know that it’s the seventh floor, that it seems super nice from the outside, and they’ll probably be big windows looking out at the city. Not to mention from the drive here, there’s also a park close by! 

You can’t wait.

The door opens.

Soyeon brings in your small bag along with the other stuff she bought for you at the store, and then she turns around to beckon you to come in, smiling softly. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Y/N.”

This is a dream. It’s all you’ve ever wanted and wished for. An owner. A home. A place to call your own. But you should’ve known, nothing is what it seems.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with a thick scent. It slams into you, choking your lungs and overwhelming your senses. Warm and earthy, like vanilla and the trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. You don’t know why you didn’t notice before. It always lingered on Soyeon, a scent underneath her laundry fabric softener and sweet perfume. Maybe you had unconsciously ignored it because you wanted so desperately to be hers.

But of course, someone as perfect as Soyeon would have another dog.

Before you can dart out the door, she calls for him. “Jimin!”

He comes barreling out of the hall with a big smile and his tail wagging.

Only, he stops short a meter away with his eyes pin-pointed on you. His grin instantly falls, ears drooping. His brows furrow as if to ask ‘what the hell is this’. 

Soyeon smiles. “Y/N, this is Jimin.”

Jimin is a dog hybrid just like you. You can tell by the triangle ears on the top of his head that’s a slightly darker shade than the blonde hair that falls over his forehead. His face is round, cheeks full and his lips are pouty. But his brown eyes are mean. They’re half-lidded and glaring at you.

“Jimin, this is our new puppy, Y/N.”

“Leave!” he suddenly barks at you, growling at the back of his throat. You yelp, ears pressed flat on your head and you jump to cower behind Soyeon who’s bigger and taller than you are.

“Jimin,” Soyeon scolds in a low tone.

But he isn’t dissuaded and steps closer to you with one large stride.

Your back hits the door, fear making your eyes grow round. He’s much larger than you are and his scent is thicker too. Jimin’s nose twitches, but before he can get to you, Soyeon blocks his way.

More sternly than before she commands, “Jimin, stop.”

Soyeon takes your hand, turns around and shushes you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry,” she coos and then shifts to the other hybrid. “Stay right there, Jimin.”

He glares as Soyeon leads you away, down the hall into a room. But he doesn’t move.

“This is my room and the place that’ll be yours too.” She shuts the door and realizes your distressed expression. “Everything will be okay,” Soyeon tries to reassure and comes to brush a hand through your hair. Then she looks over to the small bag she had dragged with her and lights up. “Oh, here’s your kitty cat.”

It’s a tattered stuffed toy you’ve had since you were born in the shelter, but the moment she passes it to you, you hug it and find comfort. Your heart begins to slow back to its normal pace and Soyeon smiles, seeing that you’ve eased.

“Get yourself settled, okay? I’ll be a second. I just have to talk to Jimin.”

“Okay.”

Her room is large with plenty of space. There’s a massive bed bigger than you’ve ever seen and a TV opposite of it. By the other wall, there’s a bookshelf, vanity, and desk with a computer. There’s a walk-in closet, dresser and another door to a bathroom too. It’s everything anyone could ever need in one room.

You marvel at your surroundings before staring out the enormous glass window.

But your ears perk. Outside the room, there’s muffled voices.

You shuffle your feet over the door and you pick up what’s being said.

“—your friend and heat partner.”

“I don’t need a friend or a heat partner!”

“Jimin. This….this isn’t the way to act.” 

There’s a long sigh and you hear steps coming down the hall. You step back and Soyeon opens the door before shutting it. She looks at you with your eyes on the ground, tail drooping and your ears pressed to your head again.

“It’s okay,” she suddenly says in a higher-pitched voice. You head lifts to her and she smiles, petting you softly behind the ear. “Jimin’s really sweet and kind, I promise. You just have to get used to each other.”

You nod. 

Soyeon asks, “Do you want snacks?”

Your eyes widen and your head bobs more enthusiastically. 

...

Soyeon does a good job of distracting you. She pets you, plays with you, shows you her room and the connected bathroom. The TV has you especially captured for a while, but you’re broken out of your trance when you hear knocking on the door. Followed by scratching. 

And then there’s Jimin’s whine.

Soyeon looks at you and says. “I’ll be right back.”

She slips away and you’re left by yourself again.

Deep down, you know you shouldn’t get too comfortable. This isn’t your home.

…

“Yes. I tried to introduce them, but it isn’t going as well as I thought it would.”

Soyeon’s voice is quiet, barely above a murmur. Yet it’s enough to stir you from your sleep and your eyes flutter a few times before you see her outline standing in the corner. She’s facing the wall with her phone pressed to her ear. You don’t know what time it is but it’s still dark outside.

“My other dog, he’s a guard dog, but he’s more possessive than I thought—….okay…..okay. Oh, alright. Yeah.”

She stops talking and you shut your eyes again, pretending you didn’t hear.

When Soyeon turns around, she doesn’t see the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

The sheets, the pillow, the blanket, it all smells like Jimin. Even if you’re stowed away in this room for the rest of your life and kept separate, the walls have already been plunged with his scent.

...

You don’t realize you’ve drifted back to sleep until you wake up with the sunshine on your face.

And your heart feels full when you see Soyeon right there with you. You’ve never been taken care of so closely by someone before, never been solely doted on, never had someone call you in such a soft voice and look at you that lovingly. And she chose you. But you don’t let yourself become too happy. Not when there was someone else on the other end of the apartment.

Still, you very much like it when Soyeon smiles and sweetly chimes, “Rise and shine.”

You rub your eyes, voice still sleepy, “Morning.” 

As you sit up from your spot on the bed, your nose twitches. Your pupils instantly dart to a wool sweater draped at the back of the desk chair. It smells strong. Stronger than the rest of the room. 

Soyeon follows your line of sight. “Oh. I thought you looked cold in that dress. I ordered you new clothes, but they’ll arrive later tonight. Do you want to wear that for the time being?”

“M-Maybe later.”

She nods. “Are you hungry?”

You nod enthusiastically and the corner of her lips quirk. 

As she leaves to get you food, you stare at the sweater. It looks softer than the blankets and much warmer too. Before you can think twice, you approach slowly, feet cold on the floorboards.

You hesitantly sink your hand into the plush fabric of the sweater. 

It doesn’t bite you. No one yells.

You pick it up and bring it to your nose, inhaling deeply. It actually smells….good. Comforting.

Soyeon grins when she returns with a tray of food, noticing the sweater slipped on top of your dress.

Halfway through your meal, she looks at your stuffed cat and boops its black nose. “Hey, Y/N. Would you mind if Jimin took a look at this? I think he’d really like it.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“I have other toys for you, like the sheep.” She plops down the white stuffie next to you that looks like a huge cotton ball. You picked it out yourself, but still… “I’ll only borrow this one for a few hours.”

It takes a second, then you’re nodding. “Okay then.”

Soyeon’s hand lifts to gently ruffle your hair. “Thank you.”

…

After breakfast, you watch TV as Soyeon cleans up and probably attends to Jimin on the other side of the wall. But no later is she returning to play with you. The two of you end up reading a story as you cuddle up to her. She shows you how to play a game on her laptop too. But then all of it is interrupted when the phone rings.

Your ears perk and you flinch from the loud sound.

Soyeon picks it up and stands in the corner of the room. “Hello?” There’s silence and then she’s sighing. “What do you mean, Taehyung? I put the file on your desk before I left.” A long pause has you worried. “It should be somewhere in our email correspondence. Figure it out.”

“No. I can’t come in! I’m on personal leave for the next two weeks, remember?” Her voice moves up a pitch and you wince. Soyeon’s clearly upset and you hate it. “Ugh. I hate you. I swear to god, Kim.”

She hangs up.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“I have to go into work, but I’ll be back in an hour.” She’s frantically rushing around, entering her closet and emerging with a blouse, pants and a coat. Still, she finds the time to come over to you and she presses a kiss on top of your forehead. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“It’s okay. I can wait.” You muster a smile, trying to make her feel better. After all, she’s done her best to comfort you. Now you want to do the same to her.

“It’ll just take a jiffy. Be back before you know it.” Soyeon steps towards the door. “Don’t leave the room, okay, Y/N?”

You nod.

Soyeon leaves a few moments later. You hear footsteps in the hall, muffled voices and then the larger door shutting. Instantly, you become drowned in silence without the television or the laptop or Soyeon’s comforting voice and soothing hands petting you. You’re abandoned.

On the other side of the wall is someone who hates you and wishes you were gone.

The truth that’s been blaring in your head becomes noisier than ever: this isn’t your home.

Maybe what she said was just an excuse. Maybe the phone call was an act and maybe Soyeon hates you too. Maybe you’re more problematic than she expected, and she’ll return you to the shelter tomorrow or even today. You wouldn’t blame her if she did. Soyeon probably wanted someone to get along with Jimin and you’re too much of a handful for her.

You don’t realize you’re crying until it’s gotten so loud that it’s deafening to your own ears. But you can’t help the wails choking out of your sobbing chest or the tears streaming down your face. You lay curled up in the bed, ears pressed to your head as you clutch your toy to your chest.

Through your clouded vision, you don’t notice the bedroom door opening. Not until you hear—

“You know she’s not leaving forever, right?”

Instantly, you jolt and scramble back on the bed. Until your back hits the headboard, pillows bent underneath you. 

Jimin looks at you, eyeing the way you’re wearing his sweater, and he swallows hard. “She’s supposed to leave five to six hours a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But she always comes back.”

You whimper and he frowns. 

“Stop making those noises.”

“I can’t help it,” you hiccup and rub your eyes. “W-Will she make me go back?”

“What?”

“The shelter. Will she leave me if we don’t get along?”

Jimin shifts his weight from one foot to another, expression almost uncomfortable. But he says, “Soyeon’s not that kind of owner.”

You hiccup and snivel, unable to make the lump in your throat go away. “I...I just want a home.”

You almost start to cry again, but then Jimin extends his arm. You see him holding your kitty cat. “I think this is yours,” he says and you nod, teary-eyed. He points to your body. “That’s my sweater. You’re not supposed to touch it.”

You look down, not sure if you should take it off. But you’re too scared to move.

At once, the concern vanishes. Jimin takes a step towards you and your spine and ears straighten on reflex. Then he takes another. You whimper and his brows furrow again. “Stop it. I won’t bite you.”

He places the kitty cat on the edge of the bed and in a moment where your courage has swelled, you lurch forward to grab it. Immediately, you withdraw and hold it to your chest.

You frown when you realize how much it smells like him.

You’re too busy paying attention to your toy to see the bed dip. To see Jimin crawling closer to you. Not until he’s facing you, practically nose to nose. Your back hits the headboard once more and your breath hitches. But instead of being barked at or bitten, Jimin leans in. You feel a tickle as his nose sniffs at your neck.

You release your breath, unable to hold it any longer and when you inhale, you smell him.

Jimin’s scent is warm and earthy, like vanilla and trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. When you’re not scared, it actually smells really nice. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

Jimin sniffs at your neck incessantly with his nose and then at your hair. You whine, slumping downwards, and he practically hovers over you, caging your frame in with his arms, smelling down your body. 

The tip of his nose travels from the valley of your breasts down your tummy. He pauses at the apex of your thighs, right where your underwear is and you shut your legs together.

You’re vulnerable beneath him and you’re not sure clutching the two toys to your chest will do much good in protecting you if he decides to attack. But when Jimin’s done, he looks at you and simply says, “You smell like flowers.”

“Is that bad?”

He pauses. “No. But I like it when things smell like me.”

You gasp when he suddenly leans in, brushing his cheek against yours, nuzzling into you. It tickles and you can’t help but giggle. Jimin’s ears perk at the bubbly sound and his tail starts to wag. The toys roll off your chest, and they’re left beside you when you let go. You wiggle and shift away from him, yet he pounces after you with a smile on his face.

You laugh, managing to dodge his arms and slip off the bed.

But Jimin’s much too fast and swift for your liking. He corners you by the closet with an enormous grin on his face, half-moon eyes lit up in mischief. Before you can dart to the left, he snatches your waist and follows after you as you collapse on the soft carpet. 

Jimin brushes his cheek against yours, the weight of his body pressed to yours with a knee placed between your parted thighs. You’re never going to completely smell like him, not when you have your own scent, so you’re not sure why he’s trying so hard. But you don’t mind.

You take the chance to smell him too, nose twitching at his neck. A hum leaves the back of your throat as you allow yourself to become immersed in the comforting scent.

...

 When Soyeon comes home an hour later, she’s surprised that Jimin isn’t already waiting at the door or doesn’t come barreling out to greet her. It’s much too quiet. She doesn’t have a good feeling.

Blood drains from her face when she walks down the hall and she sees the bedroom door wide open. The woman rushes inside, nearly tripping her feet, mouth falling open.

Yet the words die in her throat and a smile lifts onto her features when she sees Jimin cuddling you. The pair of you are fast asleep.

[dreamsclock]

Do you know the headcanon of Dream with long hair in prison? Well, I was thinking, it can be considered dehumanizing to forcefully cut someone's hair. What I'm saying is, Quackity. Shears. Using them on Dream like an animal. :) -Minotaur

okay so this is an au of canon that a gc on twt i’m in came up with !!! notably, dr3, who has EXCELLENT snippets and art HERE, HERE, and HERE if you’re interested :D the general premise is the VEGAS TEAM AU (click the name to find out more!) but set post-c!quackity torturing c!dream: in other words, c!dream, c!wilbur, c!quackity and c!sam all teaming up in perhaps the most destructive toxic team of all time, called the VEGAS TEAM 2.0 AU (vt2 for short!) and the whole au is two parts angst, two parts crack, all parts “what the absolute fuck :D” and it’s great SKJDVBLSD

i wanted to try my hand writing something for it, so thought i’d write something based off this here !! >:)

warnings (oh god this is gonna be long, vegas team 2.0 is always warning-heavy): panic attacks, emotional distress, mental instability, aftermath of torture / abuse, toxic relationships, manipulation, trauma / trauma responses, dehumanisation (c!dream’s choices are taken from him), violence, threats, general dark themes (if anything else needs tagged, pls let me know!)

“Hey, Dream,” Wilbur says cheerfully one morning, bright and early, “your hair is getting long. You could use a haircut. Thoughts from the group?”

Dream is cringing back before anyone can get a word out, almost overturning the coffee pot - an unwise move, because, as Wilbur knows, Quackity is a nightmare before his coffee, and he doesn’t think anyone would be able to tear him away from Dream before he managed to take his last canon life if the coffee had been spilt. As it is, the coffee remains in the pot, and Quackity only grunts irritably, hands curled around a cup in his hands: it’s too early for him to be in his usual trigger-happy mood, which Wilbur supposes he can’t fault him for. He doesn’t think Quackity is used to waking up at seven in the morning - looks like he might bite the head off anyone who points it out.

Beside him, Sam, clearly hoping for one morning of relative peace, sinks down further in his chair. 

“I asked for thoughts,” Wilbur says, rather put out, “and I get silence instead. Use your big boy words, Dream. We’re a team here. It’s good to hear everyone’s opinions, right?”

Dream is stiff and unyielding. Behind his mask, Wilbur catches his lips press into a tight white line, watches them open and close for a second, clearly struggling.

“...I don’t want my hair cut.” It’s the first words Dream has spoken all morning, save from the hoarse good morning Wilbur makes them all say over breakfast. “It’s- It’s fine. It’s a fine length.”

Wilbur hums, clearly disagreeing, but remaining chipper. “Sam? What’re your thoughts?”

“I think that I don’t care,” Sam mutters, sounding tired, “I don’t think it’s too big a deal, Wilbur.”

“Well, if we can’t make small decisions together, how are we going to make the bigger ones?” Wilbur prods. “Think of it as a team training exercise!”

And he watches the collective reaction at the word team - watches Sam wince, Dream twitch, Quackity roll his eyes with a half-formed snarl rising on his lips - and thinks that if every morning could be this fun, maybe they’d be far more successful in their business ventures, because it’s all about the tension, isn’t it? It’s all about poking the sore spots with a sword and grinning when they fall apart, and the sooner his fellow team members can deal with that, the sooner they can move on to doing it to others, too.

“Wilbur,” Dream says, words quiet, tripping over themselves, “I don’t want to-”

“Ah, ah, Dream, don’t be rude,” Wilbur replies, making Dream flinch back, huddling deeper in his hoodie, “we haven’t even heard from Quackity yet. What do you think, Big Q? Do you think Dream’s hair would look better with a bit of a tidy-up?”

Quackity scowls around his mouthful of coffee. “I don’t give a fuck,” he says plainly, “I really couldn’t give a shit, Wilbur, it doesn’t matter.”

“But you did such a good job on it before!” Wilbur wheedles playfully, pleased at Sam’s visceral reaction to this: he realises what’s going on quicker than the others, shooting Wilbur a warning look and beginning to get to his feet. If he thinks he can avoid the drama this easily, he’s wrong - Wilbur’s eyes flicker to Dream, and quick as lightning, Dream tugs Sam back to his seat, looking nauseous as doing so. “Thank you, Dream. Sam, don’t you agree with me? I mean, I wasn’t there, but Dream’s told me all about it: you two actually got to see him after that, didn’t you? Sam, how would you rate Quackity’s hairdressing abilities? You can use a scale one to ten if you’d like: that might be quite smart, actually.”

Sam carefully doesn’t respond, staring at the floor as though he wants it to open up and swallow him. Wilbur stares, cheery, letting the silence engulf them all.

“Yeah,” Sam eventually says, clearly unhappy with the topic at hand, “No. I thought- Prime, Wilbur, what do you want me to say? It was with shears: it wasn’t a haircut, that’s not why it happened.”

You know that, his sharp gaze tells him, and Wilbur smiles. It doesn’t particularly matter what he knows in the end. Sam had spoken: that’s enough for him.

“I think you’d look good with shorter hair,” he tells Dream, and the younger goes still, fingers freezing from where they’d been anxiously drumming against the side of his leg, “Quackity, are you up to another haircutting job any time soon?”

“I don’t-” Dream begins.

“If he doesn’t shut the hell up, then yeah,” Quackity snaps, and there’s the Quackity Wilbur likes - the flash of something darker, the dark cloud in his eyes that makes Dream inch back and Sam stiffen, there you are, Q, Wilbur thinks fondly, good morning, “I’m sick of hearing his fucking voice.”

Dream’s throat bobs, and when he moves, it’s jerky, stilted. “You’re not going to touch me,” he says, glancing to Wilbur for confirmation, who only smiles, and recoiling when Quackity snarls, a cruel shadow of a sneer, leaning across the table to Dream, “Wil-”

“Wilbur isn’t here for him to be your knight in shining armour, Dream,” Quackity tells him, pseudo-sweetly, “Wilbur won’t be able to stop be in time if I wanted to take a pair of shears to your hair. Wilbur wouldn’t be able to do a single damn thing, Dream, and even if he could, I doubt he would.”

Wilbur sits back, sipping at his tea - it’s cold by now, the way he likes it - and smiles serenely at Dream’s stuttered attempt at a reply and Quackity’s growing anger. It’s too early for popcorn, which is a shame, because otherwise he’d be having a field day right now.

It ends like it usually does: anti-climactic, with Dream’s eyes glazing over sharply, Quackity storming out of the building with a muttered curse, and Sam heading to his room, presumably to bemoan their team in private so Wilbur has no ammunition to light. Annoying, but Wilbur thinks he’s satisfied with the events of today so far. 

They still have tonight, anyway. And the rest of the week, and the rest of the month, and however long it takes until this whole business endeavour goes up in flames and takes them all with it. Eyes lighting up at the thought of it all, he turns to his ally, giving him a brief considering look.

“I think your hair looks fine,” Wilbur tells an unresponsive Dream, whose breaths are ragged, pouring himself another cup, “I don’t know what they were talking about. Maybe we could get Quackity to braid it later or something instead. That might be nice. What do you think?”

Dream twitches, and Wilbur counts the morning as a success.