#why do I love the dog filter so much

[copiawife]

copia wakes up in the middle of the night and sees me curled up away from him looking at my phone and crying. he's really worried that i'm looking at something that's really upsetting or i got bad news or something but then he looks over and it's just this post

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Gaslighting? In MY household? It’s more likely than you think

[kamaluhkhan]

HER CANINE TEETH IN THE SIDE OF MY NECK

pairing: werewolf!vi x vampire slayer!reader word count: 11.1 k summary: she's a monster, and you're essentially a monster hunter. it shouldn't work, but it does. (or — you and vi decide to escape the narrative together) warnings: ooh various mentions of fighting + blood + injuries ranging from mild to life-threatening; reader and vi both smoke + consume alcohol; rough sex (fingering [vi receiving], oral [reader receiving], tribbing, biting, spitting ++ aftercare); 18+ ! vibes are basically buffy the vampire slayer with chaotic lesbians loving each other so much it consumes them both a/n: i think i've been watching too much buffy and fantasizing about werewolf!vi for like,, too long,, and this unholy mess is the result. this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for a WHILE but tonight is the wolf moon so it felt right to post now, i really hope y'all enjoy 🖤 i'll include credit for each subtitle in the tags too <33

♪: "bullet with butterfly wings" by the smashing pumpkins; "dig me out" by sleater-kinney; "taste my despair" by lesbian bed death; "i wanna be your dog" by joan jett; "fantastic" by king princess

i. sorry about the blood in your mouth

vi wakes up with a terrible motherfucking headache, which isn’t anything new. 

she doesn’t know where she is — that isn’t particularly something new, either — but what is new is the tongue slobbering all over her face. when she opens her eyes, vi sees a 50-pound black dog standing over her.

“whoa!” vi sits up abruptly, but the dog only gets more excited and jumps up on the couch, caging her in.

“sorry. she usually isn’t so enthusiastic about company.”

the voice is coming from the other side of the room, where you’re sitting on the edge of the mattress closest to the window. there’s a cigarette in your hand, and each time you exhale, you point your chin accordingly so the smoke travels outside. a crisp breeze trickles in. 

“morning, killer.”

vi swallows the heart that has jumped into her throat, takes a deep breath to steady her breathing. fuck, she literally just moved here and might already need to leave. she tries to remember if something bad happened last night. 

it wasn’t the full moon, was it? no, that shouldn’t be for another few weeks. but then why are you calling her a —

“killer?” she asks, swallowing the lump in her throat.

she stares at you, eyes trailing your injured jawline as she waits for you to respond. you do look vaguely, achingly familiar. whatever happened last night, you were probably part of it. 

“well, you’ve got a killer right hook,” you quip. you snuff out your cigarette and twist around to fully face vi. “and i’m pretty sure you killed my reputation as a pit fighting champion. i was undefeated before you.” 

fresh blood emerges from your split lip as you speak, and you’re quick to swipe it away with your tongue. 

oh. right. 

your tank top is torn at the bottom, just cropped enough that vi can see the imprint of her fist on your lower ribs. she now remembers the feeling of yours on the side of her face, and has a bloody, crusted eyebrow, painfully tender cheekbone, and the outline of your ring seared onto her skin forever to prove it. 

what kind of pitfighter wears pure silver?

vi takes note of her surroundings to get a better sense of who she’s up against: the place is small, dingy, but has a good amount of light. you’ve got a broken mirror, old books stacked in the corner, and an open cupboard filled with clothing and various weapons, mostly daggers and some wooden stakes. an intricate glass cross dangles from the centre of the window, filtering through multicolored light. there are a bunch of dried plants next to a mortar and pestle on the sill below — nightshade, juniper, wolfsbane. on the tiny kitchen counter is a silver vase filled with more wilted flowers. 

even from far away, vi can hear your heartbeat — strong, steady — as you shuffle around and gather some things. she inhales your scent. she remembers that she was slightly taken aback, in the pit when she had you pinned to the mat, that under the musk of sweat and metallic tang of blood, vi sensed something else, something delicate and floral. 

your whole apartment smells overwhelmingly of dried roses and decaying fruit, too, sweet and earthy.

“did you bring me here for round two?”

“no.” you let out a short, breathy laugh. “i brought you here so that some creep wouldn’t take advantage of you. you were pretty out of it.”  

“so you’re — what an enforcer?”

“no fucking way,” you declare, and vi can practically feel rage coursing through you, your heart pumping with reignited vigor. “like an enforcer would care enough to actually help the undercity,” you grumble. 

you shake your head and sit down at the edge of the couch, shooing your dog away so you can drop first aid supplies in her place. she settles on the floor at your feet. 

you offer vi a somewhat bruised apple. when she hesitates, you push it into her hand.

“this isn’t a fairytale,” you say, hands busy soaking a cloth in some alcohol. “i’m not trying to poison you,” you add as if reading her mind.  

“there…there are some good enforcers, though,” vi tries, trained to have such platitudes at the ready.  

you roll your eyes. “if there are, i haven’t met them.” 

vi’s not sure she believes what she had said, either. she feels her side ache, a phantom bruise from when caitlyn slammed her rifle into the very injury she had once helped heal. 

what started as you’re not like the rest of those animals. you’re one of the good ones. became you’re all the same. it’s their blood in your veins. as soon as things went downhill. 

vi bites her lip to prevent herself from wincing, and it isn’t because you’ve pressed an alcohol-soaked cloth to the cut on her nose. her sharp nails break through the skin of the apple, digging into its soft flesh until juice is running down her wrist.

“eat,” you insist, but you’re focused on removing as much dirt and dried blood from her face as you can, brows furrowed in concentration. “you ruined my reputation, so you better keep up your strength if you wanna keep yours.”

“so, you’re helping the enemy,” vi, still wary of you, wonders.

your frown softens. you place a bandage on the bridge of her nose before saying: 

“you’re not my enemy.” 

maybe it was the sincerity of your words, or the unconditional care you’re showing her, or the fact that it’s been so long since someone has touched vi so tenderly, but she decides in that moment to trust you, whoever you are. 

she takes a bite of the apple, the sweetness invading her mouth, as you lean over to search for something else in the first aid kit, mumbling to yourself about how the wound is deeper than you thought. 

“you should really be more careful,” you chide. “are you a topsider?”

vi scoffs through a mouthful of fruit. “i’m from the lanes.” 

“yeah, well this neighborhood is a different level of bad,” you tell her.

“i can hold my own — ouch.”

you start stitching up the cut on her eyebrow, one hand keeping her head steady. her cheek pulses against you as she chews, your skin calming and cool. 

“when you’re sober, maybe.”

“you didn’t have to help me,” vi grunts. “most people would’ve gone about their business.”

“i was going about my business. i was out on patrol; vampires never sleep, you know.” 

you say it so casually, almost too casually, that vi wonders if she misheard you.

“vampires?”

you raise an eyebrow at vi. “there’s a high concentration of them around here, near the hellmouth. a lot of monsters, actually —”

vi hopes you don’t notice how she shudders at the word monsters.

“ — some of whom can and will eat you alive if they get the chance,” you deadpan. “that’s kinda what i’m here for.”

“so….what are you, exactly?”

you don’t say anything for a few seconds, your expression unreadable while you finish vi’s stitches, but your heart thumps so forcefully against your ribcage, vi almost thinks she’s seconds away from hearing the bones there crack. you start gnawing at your bottom lip, let the blood gather until it starts to trickle down towards your chin. vi swipes it away with her thumb, which she then wipes against her bandaged palm. 

you inhale slowly, then exhale. your heart rate eases; still a bit higher than most people’s, but to what seems to be normal for you. 

“the correct term is slayer,” you finally say, watching vi carefully for her reaction. 

vi isn’t quite sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good for someone like her. she’s wondering if she should make a run for it when you drop your voice an octave or two and add: 

“the chosen one standing against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.” you clear your throat. “if you were wondering.” you break out into a cheeky grin, teeth sparkling in the late morning sun.

“you’re joking?”

“most days, i wish i was. that’s the official tagline, actually.” your smile shrinks into a sigh. “i’m the slayer. i won’t bore you with all the details, but me saving you last night? that’s kinda just what i do. my destiny, so to speak.”

“do you normally take the people you save home?”

you blink away, wipe your hands half-heartedly on the white tank top you’re wearing, smearing vi’s mess of crimson and grime.

“no,” you admit. 

vi narrows her eyes at you, shifts her body so there’s at least more space between you before she figures out what the hell to do. it’s possible that you’re lying but —

vi puffs out her chest. “why are you being so nice to me?” 

you already have her blood on your body, and vice versa, and not just because you’d been fighting each other. it’s not quite trust, but it feels like something close. something you’re willing to share without even knowing much about the other. 

an unspoken question: do you know what i really am? 

because if you did, vi’s sure you wouldn’t be so….friendly towards her. so gentle.

“honestly?” you gesture towards the dog who’s busy nuzzling into vi’s leg. “fangs kinda hates everyone but she seems to like you.”

her jaw drops. “you decided to be my guardian angel because your dog likes me?”

“i already had a good feeling about you before.” you shrug. “i took it as a good omen, i guess.” 

“i’m not sure you should,” vi advises. 

you’re looking out for her, so she should look out for you. it’s better, for everyone, that vi be left alone. 

she’s been good, had to learn how to be, in order to survive; that doesn’t mean she’s innocent. 

on the bad days, she can’t control her anger. on the worst days, she can’t contain her hunger.

“okay, well, maybe i’ve got a thing for strays,” you reach your hand down, run it through fangs’ thick black fur. your lips curl upwards as you look at vi, all bright-eyed and beautiful, sunlight itself emanating from your smile. 

something sparks in her chest that she thought would never light again. something that, like her, could be dangerous if it’s not controlled. 

vi decides it’s probably about time that she left, though it's difficult to tear herself from your warmth.

“so, will i see you in the pit again?” she still can’t help but ask as you accompany her to the door.

“probably, yeah.” you lean against the doorframe, and vi is about to turn the knob when you add: “but, that pub you passed outside of? the bronze? maybe we can, uh, get a drink there, afterwards sometime.”

your heart skips a beat or two as you anxiously wait for vi to say something. her entire body heats up when she realizes what’s going on.

you were….asking her out. 

the good thing is that then there’s no way you actually know what vi is because, well, would this even be allowed in your line of work?

“you promise you’re not just playing the long game? gaining my trust and then stabbing me in the back?”

you give her a playful but sincere smile and make a small ‘x’ on the left side of your upper chest. “cross my heart.”

“guess i’ll will call you my guardian angel,” she muses, her chest glowing. “i’m vi, by the way.” 

you grin, then formally introduce yourself. you reach out your hand. vi holds it, delicately, even though your grip is firm.

“one more thing, though — keep the whole me being the slayer thing under wraps? it’s supposed to be a secret.”

“why’d you tell me, then?” vi wonders, raising an eyebrow. 

you tilt your head, examining her. “like i said — i had a good feeling about you. slayers are meant to have good instincts, so i decided to trust mine.” 

vi takes a deep breath, removes her hand from yours, and glances at you once more with a small smile. she promises not to tell a soul. 

(she, of all people, knows that there are far worse secrets to keep.)  

“thank you,” vi adds. “for saving me.”

she hears fangs scratching at the door from inside the apartment after she’s gone, along with the deep rumble of your voice telling fangs not to worry, our new friend will visit again soon, like you’re so sure vi will be back. 

with the way you already have her sharp edges softening, her heart fluttering in her chest, vi probably will be. 

except —

vi’s not quite human, hasn’t been since she started bleeding between her legs at 13, since her mother told her that this was a blessing passed down to eldest daughters in their family, no matter how many people will try to convince her it’s a curse. 

it would be a few months later that her mother would be killed because of said blessing. 

really, it’s more nightmare. 

because vi knows what it’s like to pick ripped flesh from between her teeth, to have the metallic sweetness of blood linger on her tongue and throat-tearing screams ringing in her ears. 

meanwhile, you — with your good instincts, strong fists and stronger heart  —

it’s your destiny to end those nightmares. 

you’re the thing that monsters like her are supposed to have nightmares about.

ii. you’re an angel / i’m a dog

there’s an intimacy to knowing how someone fights. 

vi fights with bared teeth and burning rage, knuckles cracking against bone, elbows bruising skin without any remorse. her own wounds are half-hazardly hidden behind layers of gauze, her chest wrapped tightly to keep her heart from bleeding out. she doesn’t bother to clean the dirt underneath her nails, to wipe the blood from her upper lip after an opponent breaks her nose, to wash her face clean before smearing on more dark paint until all she sees in the mirror is a shadow of her former self. 

you, on the other hand: you’re precise and quick in how you defeat your opponents, maybe even a bit bored. vi figures that when you fight monsters for a living, it must be fairly dull, knocking out some guy with a single, well placed uppercut, even if he is twice your size. your bandages are always fresh, and you always make vi a little dizzy when she catches a whiff of rose. you walk past her with a playful grin, easily replaced by the glint of your razor-sharp canines as you defeat another opponent in the arena. she listens as your heartbeat barely increases a beat, despite the inevitable adrenaline of battle. 

you might not be as feral as her, but vi thinks you’re just as dangerous. she likes it, admires that your violence is always calculated rather than all-consuming. 

she does wonder if you’d ever let anything consume you, curious to know what’s hiding under your armor.

so, a few days after she first woke up in your apartment, vi builds up the courage to suggest: 

"whoever wins the most fights tonight picks up the tab for the bar." 

your face brightens the dim, dirty sidelines of the pit as you’re both waiting for your turn, when you answer:

"you're on, killer." 

later that night, both of your bodies are aching as vi tries to examine your injuries once you’re both done for the day, away from the roar of the crowd. 

"guess i'll be picking up the tab," you smile, your lip splitting open even more, just like the morning after her knuckles first kissed your skin. 

(she wants to kiss this wound closed, too, press her lips to your bloody ones, if you’d be willing to give her a taste.)

"i'll still take care of it, angel,” vi soothes. she rummages around the tiny locker room, a single light bulb flickering above you. finally, she finds a small first aid kit — poorly stocked, but good enough for now. “lemme take care of you first."

you must understand what vi’s implying, because your heart starts racing faster. 

it’s a routine that becomes vi’s guiding light — the two of you patching each other up after a rough day (and, regardless of the fact that you’re both strong, it’s always a rough day). you share a drink at the bronze, and then you’re off slaying vampires or whatever other nightmares will keep you awake and fighting every night. 

then, it’s another full moon, and the routine changes. 

she’s able to prevent herself from turning even in the worst of circumstances, but she doesn’t want to risk any accidents, knowing that you’re out there on the prowl. vi is confident that you’d never hurt, let alone kill her, but that’s counting on you being able to recognize her. 

vi locks herself in the basement of the bronze. spike, the bartender, let her crash in a storage closet, temporarily, no questions asked and a promise to keep it a secret.

she emerges from her isolation after three days, eyes stinging from the harsh morning sun. her first instinct is to head underground, search for you. she makes one stop beforehand, drops something off in the locker room before she’s ushered into the arena without any more preamble. 

the show must go on, and you’re already center stage. 

the lanky woman you must’ve just knocked unconscious is being dragged away. you spit out what looks like a combination of blood and saliva, and crack your neck before resuming a fighting stance, feet squared, bruised knuckles at the ready. 

you falter when you see that it’s vi who’s your next opponent. vi picks up the increased pace of your heart, the muscle worrying against your chest.  

you’ve had this conversation, though — about what would happen if you were ever up against each other again in the ring — and you both agreed: once the bell rings, the fight starts, because you both need the money to survive. 

nothing personal. winner buys two rounds of drinks at the bronze. three, if there were some nasty hits involved.

you hadn’t needed to worry about any of that until now.

the bell rings, and vi waits for you to make the first move, like you tend to do.

but, you don’t.

the first time you were up against each other, vi dodged your attack and delivered a jab hard enough to make you bleed. you had looked at her with wide eyes, fingers touching your bottom lip and becoming stained with red as the crowd roared. you adjusted your posture with a newfound interest, and a glimmer of what vi can only describe as hunger.

this time, you drop your stance like you’ve already lost the fight. you ignore the shouts and groans from the crowd as you walk away.

….

vi finds you in the locker room — and you’re not alone. 

“there a problem here?” vi asks, glaring at the guy you seem to be arguing with. 

“it’s fine,” you answer coolly. still, vi sits on the bench nearest to the door, waits for you like a patient dog. 

“fine?” the guy barks a laugh. he’s wearing topside clothes. an enforcer, no less. “you made me look like a fool.”

you scoff. “i doubt that’s hard to do.”

the guy suddenly reaches forward and snatches your arm. vi feels rage surge through her when his nails indent your skin. you must sense it, because your eyes lock with hers in a silent command not to do anything, not just yet.

“i don’t think you understand, bitch,” he seethes, face a pissed off shade of red. “i’m out more money than you’ll ever see in your entire pathetic life.” 

“i’m sure you’ll manage.”

vi follows your gaze as it drops to his belt. he’s got his badge, a standard issue pistol, and a pouch full of gold coins. 

“clearly i bet on the wrong fucking dog.” 

you force a smile. “better luck next time, officer.” 

you finally rip your arm out of his grip, push him away abruptly, effectively manoeuvring him to stumble between where you’re standing, and vi’s waiting. you gesture towards vi with a smirk, a taunting dare for this enforcer to challenge two of the undercity’s best fighters. 

vi gets up just as he’s walking out, grumbling an incoherent string of swears. she not-so-subtly knocks into his shoulder and hip, her nimble fingers still quick.

“guess we can get dinner with our drinks, now,” she quips with a toothy grin. vi tosses you the pouch, but you don’t seem too thrilled, even as you catch it effortlessly. 

“you can’t just disappear like that, vi.” your voice sharp, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“i didn’t mean to,” vi lies, walking over to open your shared locker. she pulls out a bouquet of roses, the same deep red as dried blood. 

vi pouts, gives you her best puppy dog eyes. “i’m sorry, angel.” 

the only reaction she gages from you is a quickening heartbeat at the nickname, your face still hard to crack marble. 

“this is serious, vi.” 

“i know! but —”

“do you know what’s out there? i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful,” you rush, walking over to her and talking with your hands. “i looked everywhere for you, and….and you just left without saying anything. i thought…i thought you’d been killed —”

your blood roars in vi’s ears, your pulse close to out of control, and vi doesn’t know what else to do except bring you into her arms in an attempt to calm you down.

“i’m okay, angel. i’m here. i’m right here,” vi mumbles against your shoulder, inhaling sweat and roses.

your heart starts beating steady against her own as you exhale.

“i was safe, i promise. i was in the supply close at the bronze.”

“are you kidding?” you guffaw, unravelling yourself from vi’s body. “that basement is a hellhole.”

vi shrugs. “it does the trick.”

you chuckle dryly, shaking your head.

“well, i guess now that i lost one of my best sponsors, fangs and i might have to move in there with you,” you deadpan.

you reach around vi to pull a jacket from the locker, slipping on worn leather that vi realizes is hers. you take the flowers from her with a small thank you, and vi adjusts the collar of her jacket on you, her warm fingers subtly grazing your pulsepoint. vi can’t help the possessiveness that sparks in her abdomen: you, wearing her clothes; you, heart beating rapidly for her. 

“well…what if….i moved in with you?” deep down, she knows it’s not an ideal situation, but vi reasons: “we can pool our money together for rent. besides, what’s another stray in your home?” 

you bite your bottom lip as you mull over the offer.

“well, you did buy me flowers, ask me out to dinner….seems like the logical next step.”

“so….” 

vi wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you finally crack a smile. 

it was only been three days apart and vi already felt deprived of the sunlight of your smile. 

“okay, killer. as long as you don’t make a habit of disappearing on me.”

….

on paper, there might be reasons why you and vi, together, shouldn’t work, but the simple truth is that you do.

you still spend your afternoons engulfed in the darkness of the underground arena, patch each other up at the end of the day, share drinks at the bronze before parting ways.

now, in the mornings, you spend a few hours training together, moving furniture around so there’s enough space to spar. you try not to get distracted by how hot her skin is every time it brushes against yours, how solid her thigh is between your legs when she’s adjusting your stance, how a shattered moan emerges from her lips as you pin her to the floor after showing her a new technique to catch an opponent off-guard.

the nights are your favourite, though. like fangs, vi is able to fall asleep anywhere in the apartment, and is usually passed out by the time you’re off the clock from slayer duty. after the first few nights, you insist that vi sleep on the bed, and she begrudgingly agrees. now, you get home just before dawn, bone-tired, to find her belly up, drooling and snoring on top of the dilapidated mattress. the moonlight illuminates all the curves and shadows of her sculpted body, her skin shimmering with sweat because her body runs warm, even on the coldest nights. you can see the trail of pink hair disappear beneath her black underwear, while her dyed-black hair is a tangled mess you’re tempted to tug at, curious to see if she’d moan again for you. vi sleeps shirtless, nipples winking at you like two fallen stars with those titanium rods pierced through. 

gods, you try not to drool when you slip under the covers and fall asleep dreaming of her, all the places you would sink your teeth into, all the places you wish she would do the same. 

(meanwhile, vi tries to ignore the sound of your whimpers, the quick tempo of your heartbeat, and the overwhelming musk of desire between your legs as you sleep next to her, because she’s so sure that you would never dream of her.)

these fantasies of vi, all her warmth, all her chaos, gnaw at you from the inside out. it’s an overwhelming sense of hunger, but with vi, you also feel something else, something gentler and more fragile building between you.

it’s really the little things. 

like, vi brings you fresh roses every week, and even though you keep telling her to save her winnings for better things, she tells you that pretty girls like you are worth it, angel. they should teach you that in slayer school. 

she winks, makes you flustered, then has the audacity to blush when you leave her the ripest apples because you know that she likes them a bit sweeter. 

sometimes you open the window as you share a cigarette, exhaling smoke into the starlit twilight as you exchange stories about your pasts, about the people you’ve loved and lost. she’s the first person you confide in about how weighed down you feel by the responsibility of being the slayer, a burden that’s cost you many loved ones, and the uncertainty of whether what you’re destined to do is truly what is good for the world. she tells you about her time in prison, the lonely nights lamenting the death of her father and brothers, but keeping her strength because she hoped to one day make it back to a sister she just ended up losing, anyways. 

other times, the two of you play a game. you imagine that you’re elsewhere, that there are no such things as monsters, no reason to have to battle and bruise yourselves just to survive. instead, you have a life and a family and a home together, filled with luxurious parties, decadent dinner tables, and endless sunny days. 

you comfort her and she comforts you through the dark, morbid world you both have been fighting against, alone, for so long.

it works. it works really well. 

except — you’ve been the slayer long enough to know that nothing this good will last. it's nauseating — dangerous, even — this desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut, twisting and taunting you with what can never be.

you’re just waiting for the next nightmare to reveal itself.

….

vi’s hair has started to fade back to pink, so she asks you to re-dye it.

it’s easy to forget that she sits in a rickety chair in your decrepit but well-loved apartment because all she can think about is your body behind hers, solid and steady. your cool fingers work the dye through her hair, your nails scrape against her scalp, and you’re humming as fangs snores peacefully at her feet. she’s died and gone to heaven, pure bliss glowing in her chest and releasing through her throat as a deep rumble. 

she closes her eyes and indulges in a little daydreaming:

just you and your sunburst smile and your soft, rose-petal skin.

there’s a firm knock that rustles vi out of her reverie, and you tell her to go rinse out her hair while you answer it.

she can hear you talking with someone through the rush of hot water. she tries not to eavesdrop, but…it’s difficult, especially once she hears:

“it’ll be fine. silver bullets usually do the trick,” you say, without much enthusiasm. vi bites back her hurt, keeps rinsing her hair, waiting for the water to run clear instead of sludge gray. 

you’re not talking about her. 

“i’m not sure you understand the severity of the situation,” a voice with a thick british accent replies. “i’ve been on the council for fifty years — five times longer than you’ve been the slayer — and i’ve never seen something quite this vicious.”

“my guess is you don’t get out in the field much,” you quip. 

whoever you’re talking to clearly is not amused, ignoring your backhanded comment and instead offering the details of what has been witnessed in the past few days. it’s so gruesome and gory that vi herself is shivering as she turns off the shower, towels off, and gets dressed. 

when vi opens the door, she almost trips over fangs, who’d fallen asleep just outside. she gets up immediately as vi steps out, her tail wagging. the owner of the stern voice — a man wearing a very pristine looking tweed suit — is handing you a crossbow, a bunch of silver-tipped arrows already splayed on the table. you notice vi first as your grip on the weapon tightens, and the man’s gaze follows.

“you know there’s a rule about slayers keeping….pets,” the man says, turning his nose up at vi and fangs from where they’re still standing at the doorway of the bathroom. 

you glance back at the pair, jaw clenched, and then focus back on your unwanted guest. 

“mr. travers, thank you for the heads up, but i believe it’s time for you to leave,” you clip, dropping the crossbow on the table. 

“actually, i believe that we have much more to discuss, namely how you’ve allowed this mutt into your home —”

“get the fuck out of our apartment,” you practically growl. you walk towards him menacingly until his back is millimeters away from the door. “you of all people know what i can do.”

“you will be punished for this…this transgression,” travers warns, but there’s an unmistakable tremble in his voice. 

you laugh in a way vi can barely recognize, sharp and bitter. 

“fine. i’m no stranger to dealing with the council’s bullshit.” you open the door, flash an exaggerated, sickly sweet smile. “have a nice day.”

“i hope this animal is worth it,” travers huffs. 

“she’s worth it,” you reply without hesitation before you slam the door on his ass, so hard that the walls shake, the vase in the kitchen toppling over and cracking on the counter. 

vi’s seen you fight in the pit — hell, she’s been on the receiving end of some of your wicked moves — but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen you this angry. 

your chest is heaving as you pace back and forth. 

“so that sounds….bad,” vi remarks, heading over to the kitchen counter to gather the broken shards of pottery.

you freeze. “how much did you hear?” 

vi just shrugs. “just that there’s something bad out there —”

“don’t worry about it,” you say with a forced smile. you walk over and push some damp hair away from vi’s eyes. “let’s take fangs for a walk before we leave, yeah? while it’s still light out.” 

there are whispers throughout the next few days leading up to the full moon. the crowd at the arena starts to thin, most topsiders too scared to journey underground with rumors of a bloodthirsty monster on the loose. 

you’re not sleeping anymore, still fighting during the day to a half-empty arena, out on patrol at night, your rosy scent fading from the bedsheets with each passing night. even if you get home before dawn, you spend your time scouring through books and scribbling into your notebook, mumbling to yourself theories about where and how you can stop this thing. vi tries to get you to take a break, or at least eat instead of burning through shimmer-laced cigarettes to keep yourself awake.

the best vi can do is convince you to sit down on the couch with her and share a snack. you settle for doing some research, flip through yellowed pages as you take a bite of an apple, juice dripping down your chin. 

vi reaches her finger out, puts it in her mouth to suck off the juice, moaning around the salty-sweet taste of your skin. you let out a pleased hum, turning your attention back to your research, but angling your body to invite her closer. vi nuzzles into your side, puts her head on your lap, twitches in pleasure as you reach down to scratch behind her ear. 

she looks up at you, and you finally give her a real smile — the first ray of sun after a pitch dark night.

a slice of paradise vi was certain she’d never find.

….

the night of the full moon is when all hell breaks loose. 

vi tries — she begs you not to go out there, sensing that tonight, of all nights, it will be at its strongest. but you, too headstrong and too righteous for your own good, just won’t listen. 

“this thing has killed eleven people in less than a week. i don’t care what phase of the moon it is — i’m ending this, tonight.” 

“why does it have to be you? that thing is stronger than anything you’ve ever fought!” 

“which is why i’ve been preparing,” you snap.

“can’t you – can’t you just call the fucking council, or something, tell them to deal with it?” 

fangs is right there with vi, scrambling and whining as you’re meticulously arming yourself with as many weapons you can carry.

you scoff, notching a few silver blades to your belt. “it’s not their responsibility, it’s mine. where the fuck — i can’t go out only in this tank top, it’s fucking freezing — ”

vi swallows the lump in her throat.

“you’re gonna die if you go out there alone.”

“yeah, well, i’ve accepted my fate a long time ago,” you say stoically. 

you’re fairly well supplied at this point; if vi was the monster you were hunting, she’d be running scared from a glance alone. you’re only half paying attention to vi’s pleas, and sigh in relief when you find what you’d been looking for. 

“please, angel, don’t —”

“i was literally born for this, violet. if i don’t go out and stop this thing from killing more people, then my life is worth nothing.” 

“you make me happy!” she shouts desperately, forcing you to pause as you slip on her jacket. “that’s worth something, isn’t it?”

a tense silence follows. 

you freeze for a few moments, avoiding vi’s gaze. then, you walk over to the cabinet, grabbing something so quickly vi can’t pinpoint what it is and stuffing it in your back pocket. you clench and unclench your left fist, a tick of yours that vi recognizes from the arena. 

you’re planning your next move. 

in a daze, you pick up the crossbow, but you hesitate once more —

“fuck,” you exhale before letting the weapon clatter to the ground and rushing over to crash your lips against vi’s. 

you’re kissing and kissing, teeth and tongue and a pleasure so guilty, vi’s sure she’ll be damned for all eternity. vi’s lungs are burning when she pulls away first.

“wait. you should know that i’m —”

“i still have to go,” you interrupt, voice determined and sharp, cutting right through to vi’s heart.

there’s a fear curling up her throat as you watch her, your eyes the darkest she’s ever seen them. 

“then let me – i mean, i can help —”

you kiss her again. you taste so heavenly, better than she ever dreamed of, that vi doesn’t even care that it’s probably just to shut her up. 

she almost doesn’t notice that you’ve cornered her between the kitchen counter and the front door, until she hears a distinct click, feels something heavy and burning against her wrists. 

you pull away first this time, eyes glazed over as you back away to make space between you and what you’ve done:

vi, handcuffed to the exposed heating pipe. the cuffs are stronger than any vi has ever been bound by. must be made of real silver. the metal sears into her skin, down to the bone, as she struggles against them, screaming to the point of howling, watching as you pick up the crossbow and a handful of silver tipped arrows as a final hail mary.

“no!” she cries. the pipe you’d cuffed her to rattles, but it doesn’t give. “please, please don’t —”

“i’m…i’m really sorry,” you mumble, quickly wiping away a tear. vi flinches when you try to touch her cheek; she bares her teeth at you like a rabid beast, but you don’t give her the courtesy of a reaction.  

“why are you doing this?” she growls.

“because….you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

you take a deep breath. you look at fangs, affectionately pat her head as she bows her head and whines, tail between her legs. “bring her the key once it’s morning,” you instruct. your eyes slide over to vi’s, for what she fears might be the last time. “take care of each other.”

with that, you’re out the door.

vi isn’t sure how much time passes. her wrists sting, her muscles ache, but still, she keeps going. she doesn’t care how, but she’s not letting you die tonight. 

a sliver of moonlight shines through the window. something claws at her ribcage. 

you’re not dying tonight. 

and vi’s been hungry for too long.

iii. all my devotion turns violent

the streets are empty, deserted due to fear and damp from the cold evening rain.

you search through the shadows, around every corner, play with one of your daggers just to pass the time, the blade weaving between your expert fingers.

all you can really think about, though, is vi, and how scared she was to lose you, and how terribly you must have hurt her — 

fuck. 

you accidentally sliced through your palm, your blood emerging as thick, black tar in the darkness. you sigh and kneel down in the alleyway, dropping your heaviest weapon so you can use your uninjured hand to wrap the other. 

something pounces on you before you can stop the bleeding. the crossbow — the weapon that was supposed to deliver a fatal blow — is now out of reach. 

you jab one of your silver blades into the creature’s side; he howls, but you manage to kick him away long enough to get to your feet, get a better sense of what you’re fighting. you’ve never seen anything like it before: a hulking mass roughly five times your size, wolf-like features, and chemical machinery woven throughout his body, a neon green liquid pumping through glass tubes. 

the beast growls at you, lunges forward once again; you jump out of his path, roll away so run, fast, and grab the crossbow. you quickly notch a silver tipped arrow, aim at his heart; you hold your breath and fire without hesitation. then another, and another, just to be safe.  

your stomach turns as you watch the creature remove the arrows as if they were nothing but splinters. he lets out a roar that shakes the earth. you’ve made him angrier.

you drop the crossbow, deciding instead to propel yourself off the wall, leap onto the beast’s shoulders and stab the glass tubes with all the force you can muster. green liquid gushes out, and the beast howls in pain, but doesn’t give up. with sharp claws, he throws you to the ground, and you shriek as he tears through the skin of your ribs. 

you’re very suddenly dizzy, bleeding out on the cobblestones, yet continue to struggle with whatever strength still courses through your veins. the beast looms over you, foaming at the mouth, and your vision is getting fuzzier by the second.

that’s when you see a flash of dark fur, almost fuschia in the moonlight, jump in front of you, knock the beast out of the way, tumble to the side. you glance at the creature that saved you — a wolf with a fierce set of teeth and beautiful powder blue eyes — before you fall unconscious. 

iv. stitch me up (touch me inside and out)

vi barely registers that the temperature in the apartment is dropping.

she doesn’t regret how she had to rip the heating pipe from the wall — there are nasty burns, still untreated, stinging her wrists where the silver cuffs had restrained her. 

she doesn’t regret transforming from human to something wild, unrestrained, in order to save you from something much worse. 

she’s still burning off adrenaline, her nervous system on high alert. it’s been a while, and she’d forgotten how exhilarating it can be.

it all happened so fast. there was something oddly familiar about the beast; he seemed to recognize vi, too. that’s the only explanation — for all the ruthless, bloody stories she’d heard, why else would he have let vi take you away and just disappear into the night without so much as a growl? 

vi doesn’t have the energy to answer such questions. all she cares about is you. she can’t get over the overwhelming scent of your blood, already spilling out onto the street when she showed up. she almost lost control, blinded by rage and a desire to kill the beast — but you were there, on the brink of death, and she just wanted you to be safe, wanted to bring you home.

she just hopes she wasn’t too late. 

vi hyper-focuses on your labored, disjointed breaths from where she tucked you in. she tried her best to stop the bleeding and dress your wounds with combinations of herbs and flowers she frantically read about in one of your books, desperate to keep you alive. 

you’ve lost blood. a lot of blood. 

vi wants nothing more than to curl up on the bed next to you, but after you saw her last night, once you realize that she’s no different than the savage beast you were so determined to kill, she’s not sure you’d want her near you. 

she’ll just stay long enough to know that you’ll wake up, and then she’ll be out of your life forever. 

dawn breaks. the sun shines through cracked, frost covered windows, and your eyes remain shut.

your heart’s still pumping blood, which is a good sign, but otherwise….

day bleeds into night, and you’re still out cold. vi manages to drip some water between your parted lips, and watches with relief as your throat reacts accordingly. you let out a gentle sigh, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly. 

“please wake up,” vi whispers. 

fangs jumps onto the bed and whimpers, nudging her nose against your arm so that she’s snuggled underneath. vi drapes a blanket over the pair of you.

another sleepless night passes.

at first light, vi changes your bandages. she struggles a bit, given her injured wrists, but she’s pleased to find you healing from what might have been a fatal injury to most humans. she tries to feed fangs, but the dog refuses. 

fair enough — vi can’t bring herself to eat, either. 

instead, to pass the time, vi glues together shards from the broken vase and places it back on the kitchen counter. there are no more fresh roses; vi decides she’ll bring you some as a parting gift once you’ve woken up. 

you’re shivering by the time darkness starts to creep in. vi piles as many blankets as she can on you and fangs, but it’s not enough. vi accepts what she had been reluctant to do: she slips into bed next to you, uses her body to keep you warm, arms wrapped around you protectively.

vi doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes up late the next afternoon, to cold rumpled sheets and an even colder empty apartment. 

you must have a knack for perfect timing, because just as vi’s about to start spiralling, the front door swings open and it’s you — cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, holding a brown paper bag with one arm while your other hand grasps the key. fangs rushes through the door, too, tail wagging as she zooms around the apartment, bounces on the furniture and lets out excited little yaps.

“morning, killer.” you smile like you hadn’t been knocking on death’s door since a few nights before. “i would have waited, but you were pretty knocked out and fangs had a ton of energy to burn. clearly she still does,” you chuckle, sending a warm, fuzzy feeling through vi’s body. “i got us some food, too, and i’ll contact the landlord to fix our — whoa!”

the bag drops to your feet as vi pounces on you, engulfing your body in her arms and squeezing tightly. your heartbeat is as strong as ever, steadies her own frantic pulse. 

“s-sorry.” she pulls away and takes a step back. “i shouldn’t have —”

you just shake your head and press a finger to her lips to quiet her.

“i’m sorry,” you say. “i shouldn’t have — i shouldn’t have treated you like that; shouldn’t have used who you are as a weapon against you. you saved me, vi.” you take a shuddery breath. you place a gentle hand on her cheek. “thank you.”

it takes vi a minute to process what you’ve said. 

you thanked her for saving you. 

you apologized for using who she is as a weapon. 

what did you mean by that? 

unless —

i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful.

she’s worth it. 

you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. 

“you….knew,” vi realizes, and even as she says it, she can’t quite believe it. “how….how long?”

“from the first time i landed a punch on your handsome face.” smiling softly, you run your thumb over the faded burn on her cheek, the one mirroring her tattoo, the one left by your silver ring. 

“are you serious?”

“well, fine, i didn’t know what you were, not exactly, until later. i just had a pretty good feeling that you weren’t human; you had a pulse, so you couldn’t be a vampire, which meant —” 

“you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you?”

you shrug. “you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you.” while vi continues to stare at you in disbelief, you bend down to pick up the fallen items. vi crouches down with you.

“that’s different,” she reasons, handing you a soft red apple, your cold fingers brushing over her warm skin momentarily. 

“i don’t think so. not all monsters are evil and not all humans are good. i saved you from a human that night, remember?” 

“b-but you’re you and i-i’m me.” vi scrambles to find the right words. she’s still shocked at how calm you are. is it really as simple as you make it seem? “you weren’t….scared that i’d hurt you, because that’s who i am?”

you get up and place the bag of groceries in the kitchen, lean against the counter as you stare back at vi. instead of answering, you challenge her once again:

“were you scared that i’d hurt you?”

vi blinks at you. “never.”

“there’s your answer,” you declare, giving her that razor-sharp grin you flash whenever you win a fight.

fangs has calmed down, and she’s asleep on the living room couch, her snores the only sound between you as vi processes everything that’s been said. 

she feels like her entire world has flipped upside down.

this whole time…..

it went terribly when she last told someone the truth, at least anyone outside her family, and even they would sometimes walk on eggshells around her, like they were worried she might snap. 

but you….you’ve sparred and you’ve bickered and you never even flinched once. 

you welcomed her into your home, into your life. 

you kissed her. 

this whole time.

“i was scared you wouldn’t love me, if you knew,” vi admits, a whisper so soft that she’s almost sure that you didn’t hear. 

except you falter then, your confident posture melting at her confession. your lips part in a soft exhale. 

“well, it’s like you said; i knew this whole time, and i still….” you swallow the rest of your sentence, but you’re looking at vi with so much adoration that it’s overwhelming. “i still want you.”

her brain short circuits, and all vi can think to do is kiss you.

it starts sweet, your lips rose-petal soft. her lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure. you run your fingers through vi’s hair, swallow her moans. she’s dizzy with anticipation, imagining how you might do the same when she’s between your legs later. you kiss the scar on her upper lip, gently like you’re hoping to heal the permanent wound. then, your tongue laves over the cut on vi’s bottom lip, soothes her, pushes into her mouth again so you’re both tasting copper. 

but then, you bite down, and a desire buried deep within vi is unleashed: the desire to cut herself open for you so you can love each and every part of her. even deeper down, vi hopes that you’d want the same.

vi brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into her mouth even more. she lodges her thigh between your legs and shoves her tongue into your mouth when you gasp. one of your hands slips underneath her shirt to trace the contours of her abdomen, meticulously outlining each one.

“it’s been days since you’ve eaten, hasn’t it?” you mumble against her lips, pulling away slightly. your brows pinch together in worry, because you already know her body too well, can tell that each muscle is more defined, each edge a bit sharper. “you must be starving, baby. let’s eat something before —”

vi whines when you start to pull away even more.

“we can do that after.” she offers you her best puppy dog eyes as she pleads: “i’m hungry for something else now. i want you.”

to prove her point, vi guides your hand to her belt. your fingers dance along the metal and she eagerly awaits your response.

“fine,” you decide. “but whoever has the most orgasms makes dinner.” 

“you’re on, angel.”

her breath hitches when your hand moves down the waistband of her pants; you play with her tangle of curls, tease the tip of your fingers into her wetness. she purrs against you. 

“wait —” you pause your actions. vi whimpers when you remove your glistening fingers; you take off the silver ring on your pointer finger, grinning guiltily as you toss it on the counter behind you. “that would have been bad,” is all you say before inserting two fingers into her already slick pussy.

“ugh, ah — fuck, just like that, angel,” she moans, twitching as you ram your fingers into her. 

you hum, stuff another finger into her heat, stretching her so deliciously that her legs start to tremble. 

“such a good girl for me. aren’t you, violet?” you coo and start sucking the skin behind her ear. “you gonna make a mess, right here in our kitchen?” 

and that does it — vi’s walls tighten around you, her wetness soaks through her clothes; she’s almost sure that it drips down onto the floor. vi whines as you remove your fingers, feeling empty. you shove your syrupy fingers into her mouth instead, her tongue greedily lapping up her own cum. a string of spit follows as you rip away your fingers and press your mouth against vi’s kiss-swollen, cum-covered lips. you feel something smouldering in the pit of your stomach at her whimpers; you’re nowhere near satisfied, but her eyes, all wide and dark and desperate, are pleading at you to let her indulge in her hunger, as well.  

“what else do you want?”

vi paws at your breasts from above your shirt.

“i want to fuck you,” she declares, and you nod eagerly, your body bursting into flames. 

she gestures at you to wrap your legs around her hips, and she carries you to the bed as you kiss more fiercely, teeth clacking and tongues fighting to explore every crevice of her mouth. you tear each other’s clothes off; but the cold air doesn’t faze you in the slightess, because you have vi, hot and passionate, above you, keeping you going.

your teeth gnaw on her bottom lip as vi messily thrusts against you, your cunts sliding against each other; sticky, languid bliss. 

vi takes her time. she wants to savor every part of this, of you — the sting of your nails scratching down her tattooed back, no doubt leaving red marks in their wake; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet roses, combined with the thick musk of your desire, dripping against hers so deliciously; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging her to go faster, harder. 

she nudges her nose against the crook of your neck, salivates at how your vein pulses for her like a tantalizing butterfly. her teeth graze your pulsepoint, but she’s trembling with the amount of self control it takes not to add any more pressure.

“v-vi,” you breathe her name like a prayer. “baby.”

a guttural moan bubbles from the back of her throat in response.

you gently run your fingers through her hair, coax her to look you in the eye, the gesture a sharp contrast to the harsh squelching of your cunts against each other, melding together with each determined thrust. 

“you – ah,” you gasp as vi rolls her hips into yours with even more vigor. “you can bite me, if you want.” 

vi licks her lips, swallows the hunger burning in her throat because you must be too fucked out if you’re willing to let vi fully indulge in this craving. 

“but then you would —”

“lycanthropy is only transmitted when you’re in wolf form,” you explain through labored breaths. “so if you bite me now….and gods, i’m begging you to…..nothing’s gonna change.” 

“i have never been more thankful for your slayer training,” she growls. “you really want that, huh? for me to mark you up really good, show everyone that you’re mine?”

“o-only if i can do the same,” you manage a smirk. “or are you all bark and no bite?” you tease, buck your hips upwards. vi is willing to die for your knife-like smile alone, so of course. she’d let you eat her whole, if that’s what you really wanted. 

vi finally sinks her teeth into you, rolling her eyes back at how absolutely luscious you taste. like a good girl — your good girl — she follows your orders and bites. she bites down your neck, across your shoulders and collarbones, relishing in the imprints left in her wake.

vi knows now that she calls you angel for a reason. it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the pillow as your orgasm crashes through you. vi follows a few seconds later until you’re covered in her — she drenched the curls of your bush, her cum dripping down on your own wet pussy as she watches from above. vi can’t help it; she bends down, and you jolt slightly when her cold nipple piercing brushes against your clit. she does it again a few more times just to appreciate how you whine, rut your pussy against her perky breast, begging for more. 

but, vi’s on the hunt for something else — she splits your folds with her sharp tongue, sucks any and all of your shared essence. she lets it slosh around in her mouth before hovering over you once more, silently ordering you to part your wet lips; when you comply, so obedient, vi spits into your wanton mouth, thick and velvety. 

“swallow,” she orders, voice rough with lust. you do so quite eagerly.

and just like that, you’re back to grinding on each other, leaving a delectable mess along the skin of each other’s thighs. the tension in vi’s abdomen snaps when you wrap your lips around her nipple, suckling at your own wetness until drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth. 

after feeling her gush against you, a feral impulse rips through you. you release her nipple with a distinct pop, the cold metal still burning on your tongue as you yank vi’s hair, exposing her tender skin, glittering with sweat in the dark golden light as the sun starts to set. you pull her close, bite around the tattoo on the side of her neck, hard. vi howls in pleasure as you taste salt and iron and her, reaching your peak. 

vi waits patiently as you come down from your high, chest heaving, your neck still engraved with the outline of her teeth while yours are stained red. you crash your lips onto hers, chaotic and insatiable, kissing her like she’s your last meal. in turn, she licks into your mouth, tongue tracing your canines to savor what you’ve consumed of hers. 

“you sure you’re not a vampire? that would be quite the scandal,” vi jokes later when you’re sitting in her lap, taking time to clean each other up. vi’s only wearing a shirt, but you’ve doubled up on clothes, the apartment growing colder as night approaches. 

you already tended to the burns on her wrists (and apologized profusely for causing them; you also scolded her a bit for not tending to herself sooner). now you use disinfectant to wipe down her neck, where you broke skin; you quickly place a bandage that soothes the sting and vi presses a grateful kiss to your sternum.

you hum around the unlit cigarette in your mouth, which you had rolled beforehand with dried rose petals. with your hands unoccupied, you reach for your lighter. vi tilts her chin to gaze up at you; you’re backlit by the evening twilight, a silver halo around you as flowery smoke billows from your mouth.

“i’m sure they won’t be thrilled to know that a slayer’s fallen in love with a werewolf, either,” you muse, beaming at her. 

vi clicks her tongue. “sounds like we’re breaking some bylaws.”

“oh, she’s worth it; i’d do anything for my charming, sexy, handsome werewolf.”

you lean forward and exhale smoke into vi’s parted mouth, lips brushing against each other as you share the same breath. you sit back once your lungs are burning and admire the view. 

vi — normally all rough edges and dark shadows — blushing a delicate pink as you praise her.

“she’s got a killer right hook, too,” you continue. you offer vi the cigarette and she nods; you hold it, place it between her lips as she takes a drag. “a body so hot that it’s honestly unfair. she’s a fighter, which i love, and some people might think she’s just a scary dog, but i think she’s beautiful and brave and a total softie —”

“okay, okay,” vi coughs, the tips of her ears red. she takes the cigarette from you and stubs it out on the makeshift ashtray by the windowsill. vi rolls over so she’s on top of you, cupping your face in her hands. she pecks across your cheeks until you’re giggling; you try to turn the tables, and the two of you just end up wrestling in a tangle of sheets and laughter and tender kisses.

eventually, you both calm down. 

“you hungry?”

“not really. you?”

vi shakes her head. “we’ll make breakfast together in the morning?” 

“sounds heavenly.”

it’s dark outside, but the stars are out and the waning moon shines bright. vi positions herself behind you, her body curving into yours, chin notched over your shoulder and arm secure on your waist.

fangs must feel left out, because she shuffles under the covers for warmth before immediately falling back asleep, her fur tickling at your feet.

your thumb rubs against the gauze on vi’s wrist. you can’t help but feel regret, heavy like lead in your stomach.

“baby, i’m fine,” vi assures, already knowing what you’re thinking.

“i….i just hate that i did this to you,” you mumble, bringing her wrist up so you can kiss it. 

“you were trying to protect me. it’s what we do, yeah? protect each other?”

when you hum in agreement, vi guides you to turn around so you’re facing each other. on instinct, she parts your legs with her thigh. your sweatshirt has ridden up, so vi starts to rub circles onto your exposed hip bone, her touch soft as velvet.

“next time you go out there, i’m coming with you.”

your breath hitches as you trace the tattoos licking up her arm. “vi….”

“this isn’t up for debate,” vi declares. she reaches her hand up to caress your cheek, thumb delicately rubbing the shadows under your eye. “you almost died. whatever almost killed you is still out there. you’re strong — gods, you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met — but you don’t have to face any of this alone. not anymore.”

you let out a surprised laugh. 

“what?” she murmurs shyly, her eyes the soft, pale blue of moonlight, star-like freckles dazzling her sculpted cheeks. 

“no, it’s just….anyone who’s known that i’m the slayer either calls me delusional, runs scared, or expects me to do it all by myself. hell — that’s how it was written, how it was destined to be."

vi nudges her nose against yours. her breath tickles your lips, heats up your entire being with a warmth so divine, you wonder if you actually have died and gone to heaven. 

you’re both alive, though, a bit bruised and wounded. the world is dark and cold, but here’s this beautiful, strong girl with a beautiful, strong heart who holds you close, parts her full lips — like two rose petals, kiss-bitten and crimson — and vows:

“fuck destiny. it’s you and me now, angel.”

v. my heart is black and beats for you

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

it’s a quiet night. you spent most of it lamenting how you got your ass kicked earlier and fantasizing about the woman who did it, when you see a shadow of a person passed out at the corner of the street, and another trying to steal from them. 

someone has to stand against the forces of darkness and evil, and the universe somehow determined that would be you — a fate you’ve had to accept through bruised ribs and broken hearts and bloody prophecies, but one you’ve had to accept nonetheless. 

if that goes beyond vampires and demons, so be it. 

after you’ve managed to send the creep on the run, you recognize the person you saved:

it’s her. 

she looked more intimidating in the pit, honestly — all harsh and dark, furrowed brows and vicious snarls. 

it takes you kneeling in front of her to be able to really see it through the black face paint. you take a little pride in the bruise that blossoms on her cheek and the cut through her eyebrow, thinking that at least you got a few shots in before she took you out with a killer right hook. 

your jaw still aches and you still taste copper thanks to her, but without the roars from the crowd or the pressure of hefty prize money that you need to survive, you can see her more clearly. she’s bleeding through her bandages; she’s shivering because, gods, it’s freezing this time of year and all she’s wearing underneath a flimsy leather jacket is scrap fabric that would not be counted as a shirt; and she looks like she hasn’t eaten in days despite reeking of alcohol. 

that’s when you see a burn on her cheekbone, too, just about where your silver ring would have collided with her skin. you hold your breath, lean in closer to her chest and listen closely to check — the thumping of a strong, steady heartbeat; the gentle rush of blood flowing through her veins. 

so, not a vampire. maybe a human with a silver allergy, but what’s more likely is that she’s….something else. 

“hey.” you whisper. when she doesn’t respond, you cup her face in one hand and tap her bruised cheek with your thumb. her skin is warm; if she were a human, you’d think she had a fever. “wake up.”

you resist the urge to jerk away when she softly takes your hand in hers, the gesture a sharp contrast to her knuckles bloodied from earlier.

“five more minutes, cupcake,” she whines, her voice echoing down the empty alley.

“look, it’s late and freezing. we should really go before —”

“please. just stay with me. i promise i’ll be good.”

your chest aches at her sincere tone. did you sound the same, when you made a similar promise before to the people you’ve loved after they found out who — what — you are? did you also look so broken, so bruised when they left? 

you know the council wouldn’t approve of what you’re about to do. 

but you also know well enough from years of studying and training and fighting as the slayer that their judgement should not be taken as scripture.

in other words: fuck the council. 

(plus — you need a friend, or just….someone. it’s lonely, being the chosen one. and this girl, in front of you — when you fought, her body reacting to yours so fluidly, you had somehow never felt more understood.)

you manage to get her to her feet. 

she mumbles something incomprehensible into your neck, her breath hot against your skin. you let her lean into your body after a weak attempt at holding herself up. it’s not much trouble for you, though. it’s a cold night, anyways; her body, solid and warm, is almost comforting against yours.

you trust your instincts and carry her home. 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

New Beginnings | Yandere Animal Town

You'll want to read Only Human Series | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The smell of a hearty meal brings a warmth greater than the heavy comforter you're curled up in–-a ray of light from the open curtains beaming on your face. Your body started to rise before you fully registered that someone had to be the cause of such a heavenly scent and you were pretty sure you’d taken back all the keys from your former roommate. Slipping into your slippers and wrapping a robe around yourself you made your way down the creaky steps of your late grandmother's home. Running your fingers over the aged wooden walls, tracing the frames of the art and pictures that were still hung. It brought back memories of her entering your life, your original apprehension, and the slow realization that you loved her just as much as your grandfather. Smiling at the frame you had hung just before the staircase. 

"Morning Poppop, Mam! I made it another year without burning the place down...please wish me well."

The words spilled out earnestly devoid of the filters preparing in your head. Seeing as you had revoked Eudora's key a week earlier after the incident with your bedroom your whole being was readying to scold whoever had found themselves in your home.

"Happy New Years, Hun! Decided to start the year with a good meal. Pull up a chair and take yer time; I will warn you though you'll be having company in a few. I tried to stop them but you know how these nosy neighbors of ours tend to be."

The motherly canine hounded on about each of their pleas; all of it all too familiar. letting her voice fade into the background you tried to remind yourself that this was reality. The space connecting the kitchen room was spotless. Wooden floors glisten and windows let in clear rays of light without a speck of dirt to darken it. Your couch known for its crotchety, dusty presence was abnormally bright for its beige color, and when you pressed a finger into the cushion it plumped up as you pulled away. As if its stuffing wasn't devoured by mites. The carpet and curtains shared the same treatment, smelling of lemon cleaning products. At the center of your transformed living room were the other two canines wagging their tails happily.

"So do you like it (Y/n)?"

The small voice of Titan woke you up. Memories of when you first met the pup all teary-eyed and worried for his mother. It was a stark reminder as to why the years to come would likely never be quiet again.

" How did you guys get in? You didn't break my other door did you?" 

The child giggled before rocketing himself into your thigh. Despite this being a regular occurrence you still doubled over to nurse the bruised spot; leaving your neck perfectly exposed to tiny, grabby arms. The little hybrid hung onto you waiting for the rest of your body to accept his impromptu hug. 

"Didn't have to this time with that new mini-door I finished installing for ya!" 

Tank cheered from the floor behind the couch, popping up to reveal his typical attire of worn and tattered overalls hanging off his bulging pecks. Its single good strap hanging on for dear life over his tanned chest which was puffed up with pride as he watched you examine only his his and his brother's work.

" Thanks you guys...oh uh Happy New Year."

The family returned the saying before ushering you to your seat to eat. All of them seemed more than certain you wouldn't be alone much longer. With one sip of orange juice and three bites into your toast, you no longer were. Mama Tiffany had the decency not to groan exasperated at the knocking on the door. While you knew dog hybrids had more intense senses than humans and likely told them who exactly was at the door, you had the impression it didn't matter who it was. Just that they were interrupting a quiet New Year's Day with you.

"Darling I've brought the champagne. Since we missed each other New Years Eve i say we drink it now and finish the bottle before lunch!"

It was Eudora the cow-woman you helped get back on her feet (hooves?) rocking her usual cow-print designer brand jumpsuit with champagne wrapped in her hand and two caps of wine bottles sticking out of her matching bag.

"AHEM."

In an instant Tank and Tiffany were behind you. Arms crossed and sporting a sneer, one hidden well and one not, Eudora was forced to realize she wasn't your only visitor. 

"Fine. I'll share but I'm not going to like it."

Tiffany hummed," Sorry dear but while a child is about we all can't be...under the influence."

Shrugging you had to agree. Titan for as independent and rambunctious of a child he was still one and it was in bad taste to be indulging with him so close by.

"Sorry, Dor maybe another time."

The cow-woman whined latching onto you to fake-cry into your chest. Being sure to nuzzle indulgently.

"Every time I come over you’re surrounded by that brat! How ever will we get to be alone?!"

Her dramatic plea made Tank roll his eyes, slipping around her to grab the neck of a wine bottle from her purse. Immediately jumping away she chased after the scampering dog hybrid as best as she could in her speckled pumps. Tank and Titan were snickering as they weaved around passing the bottle between the two as she struggled, slipping onto the newly shined wooden floor.

"Give that back you have no idea, how important that is!"

Above her head, Tank dangled the bottle mockingly as he chuckled.

"Oh, I don't?"

"Noo! You don't! A farmer dog would never understand the kind of luxuries I earned to get--"

"You mean you earned by selling this milk" Titan had mysteriously slid the bag off her arm rummaging through it to pull out a jar of milk with a label on top which he so dutifully began to read,"(Y/n)'s spe-speshul milk?"

Eudora blushed, gasping in horror abandoning the laughing Tank to snatch the jar from Titan's hand. Cradling it to her chest she glared at the dog boy hoping he'd shiver and tuck that tail of his. Alas he didn't. He was smiling devilishly at the cow-woman, who was too distracted by him to stop Mama Tiffany from snatching the jar from her manicured hands.

"Hm good readin' Titan," her boy proudly wags his tail. Eudora dives for the jar but misses on account of the mother canine easily dodging her and heading straight for the kitchen her victorious smile seen by only Eudora , "Anyway if you made this for (Y/n) I might as well use it to make some more french toast. What d'ya say Hon?"

"Wait—"

"Sounds good to me!"

"H-hold on!"

"Great I'll get started on 'em right away," she popped the lid open giving it a good sniff before recoiling something fierce. Tank shivered and fought the urge to gag as he picked up the scent. Titan retched and ran into your side doing his best to shove his wet little nose as deep as he could into your skin. Eudora was appalled watching Tiffany dump her creation down the sink, turning to her with a sorrowful hostile look she sighed.

"Ah that's too bad seems like this batch is spoilt. Betta check the rest of the batch if you plan to take that to market."

Eudora looked furious as though Tiffany had curdled it herself. On a warpath, she stomps over with her painted finger stabbing it into Tiffany’s chest. From where you were standing you couldn’t tell exactly but you were certain her face was contorted with an unbecoming snarl. On instinct Tank and Titan stood alert ears pinned back and the faint grumble of a growl in their throats. 

It would be best to diffuse this. Separate them both before Tiffany lost that already twitching smile and Eudora did something with her pointed finger.  Thankfully someone else has knocked on the door. 

“Ack-! Tiffany could you maybe get the door for me I’m still in my PJs?”

“Sure thing, Hun be quick now.”

She shoved Eudora out the way, shouting that ‘she was comin’’ to whoever was at the door. You had your guesses but you figured whoever it was you better be properly dressed. In your absence the guests congregated with whispers spat through their teeth. Tank was the first to speak.

“You’re disgusting, cow.”

She stuck a specific finger in his direction, that had him hurriedly cover his younger brother’s eyes. Much to Titan’s unhappiness he could hear the air whipping with some other unspoken gestures of hatred. A shame he only saw the one. 

Tiffany opened the door with a smile on her face, her nails barely chipping at the latest coat of paint on the door. At the very least this nuisance wasn’t as…troublesome. 

“Stein. A real surprise. Didn’t know you were invited to celebrate the New Year.”

The librarian snake-hybrid shuffled his feet as his hands wobbled, making an irritating clacking of the platter he brought. Tiffany shut her eyes. Couldn’t wish to scratch his hands off if she couldn’t see him.  Stein’s tail was at attention curling and twisting behind him with the nerves he was still battling. He had originally felt encouraged not only by his newly found meditation breathing but because his…group of devvotees had assured him.

“Great Stein they’ll be so happy you’re there!” They said and they promised,” Excalibur will certainly compliment you for your new scales.”

Which was what he had predicted would happen especially since he’d practiced the scenario so many times in his head. But how could this be if the one he wanted needed+ wasn’t answering the door?! Still he wasn’t too discouraged…he could tell there was someone moving upstairs; the thermal signature reminiscent of his one and only human.

“W-w-well we’d been s-speaking about plans and they said I could–”

“I’m not accusing, (Y/n)’s a real sweetheart to those decent enough.”

“I–yes they are!”

Stein happily followed Tiffany inside, unsurprised at seeing her children and the peeved cow woman. It was already confirmed by many of his devotees that they were incredibly adamant about guarding you. Of course their theories ranged from their own obsessions to their secret plots to control the world with (Y/n) as their tool. It really was absurd but Stein would never complain for he had so many slashed tires to thank them for. Those ‘little gifts’ were incredibly nice when he had extra time to speak with them.

“Hey Stein! Happy you’re here! And look at that, do you think the new shed goes nicely?”

He nodded returning the hug. The seconds spent in (Y/n)’s arms felt all so incredibly right for Stein. The small amounts of contact through clothes regrettably brought a heat he wasn’t expecting, a heat felt a sliver of when he was with them.

“Uh, are you hibernating?”

The small voice calling out to him and the silence calling for an answer. He hurriedly straightened himself out but he still couldn’t get his arms or his tail to fully un-intertwine from the human. Still he made the effort of tilting his head hovering just above his human (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

Titan sighed like children did. In the whiney strangely annoyed way they did. He’d like to have a clutch with you.

“Y’know! Are’ya fallin’ asleep on ‘em or what?”

Stein laughed joylessly. He wasn’t the best at speaking but the pinched brow of the little dog hybrid said this wasn’t an innocent question but a tempered reaction from an annoyed predator. Stein would have no way of knowing but minutes before Titan had done the best work that he could to scent his favorite human. He knew his puppy dog face and his irresistible charisma could get him so far with all these adults coming over he had to make his mark….and yet when his human returned it was gone. 

“No little one I’m just–,” Stein let himself release the human only up to their hands keeping his fingers in between their own. The only reason he could get his tail to naturally release was because he wanted to see his human’s smiling face. Stein internally swooned but settled for a warm smile,” Happy to see my friend and kindred spirit.”

Your heart warmed at the thought—’ kindred spirit.’ Half a year ago it would have been bizarre to know anyone was willing to give this human in a hybrid-only town a chance. A feeling of gratitude washes over, making your cheeks warm and your heart full. 

Here. These were your people, your friends, and despite their odd violent, creepy, invasive behavior they cared about you and are likely the reason you wouldn’t be alone from now on. 

“Happy New Year you guys! Let’s make this one count!”

Titan howled in agreement, while Tank and Tiffany cheered! Eudora let her pout cease…for long enough to crack open the champagne. With a successful poignant pop, the wooden peg shot faster than you could catch. However, there was something fast, a black shadow that whipped across Stein’s face. But looking at the hybrid’s tail it was swaying casually below him; the only thing different was the slight curl at its end almost like it was holding something—-

“(Yyyy/nnnn)!!!! The cow is making me drink this horrible adult juice.”

“NO! I’M NOT! Tiffany come get your pup before I skewer him!”

“Ah (Y/n) I–I noticed you were looking at my t-tail and I just th-thought I’d offer if you’d like to touc–”

“Shut it, worm. (Y/n) I wanted to remind you about some of the new piping I fixed for you. Just a minor fix but I can personally show you now.”

“Oh, Hon he did such a good job~ You two should check it out! But not before you give Mama’s pies a taste!”

This Year would not be quiet, not with these guys around and with many more to come. 

____________________________________________________

Sneak Peak:

Knock Knock

“More people? So soon?”

The question wasn’t for anyone in particular but you were already walking away from the squabbling hybrids at your dining table. Looking discreetly over your shoulder to see Titan successfully nip at Stein’s tail and nearly avoid its constricting, you worked hard to hold your laughter. Depending on your latest guest they might not take lightly to your troublesome attendees. Swinging the door open you realized your assessment was spot on…at least for one of your new arrivals.

“Morning (Y/n).”

“Mr. Mayor! G-glad to see you!”

You really wish you’d looked at yourself in the mirror again.

“I didn’t realize so many others were invited to this function.”

“Sorry if I was misleading, you don’t have to join if you don’t–”

“No please (Y/n). I deal with the citizens of this town every day. This will be no different.”

“Then uh welcome,” you move to the side allowing the pristine presence to grace your newly renovated living room. Watching the slight twitch of his nose you wrestled with the same feelings of anxiety when you do see it. The tell was either one of annoyance or great excitement, you could only hope it was the latter,” we were all just about to play a board game if you’d like to join.”

The mayor gave a smile over his shoulder before he claimed a seat at the table. With no time to follow up, you focused on inviting the rest of your guests.

“Look at you rolling out the red carpet for that sucker!”

“Before the both of us, the working class really is overlooked.”

You shook your head at the duo before entering the hugs their arms were already opened for. Of course, this wasn’t as simple as giving a one-armed hug to both of them at the same time. They demanded a full hug to each of them by wrenching you in their direction when you thought the hug was over. How pleasant.

“Duke, Sher welcome we haven’t started yet so we can deal you in.”

Sher smiled, his little tail likely wiggling with pride as he let himself in.

“Good you really shouldn’t have even started the New Year without me but as long as you let me win I’ll forgive you.”

You opened your mouth to correct him now, if only to avoid a tantrum later but Duke stopped you with a hand to your shoulder. With a blush he had you come closer so he could whisper–it must have something to do with eggs.

“I did bring the years first eggs with me but I didn’t want to draw attention by bringing it to the door.”

“That’s fine Duke! I’ll make an excuse so I can grab them.”

“M-maybe you should include me so that I can help it’s a lot.”

“Wow, if it’s that much you’re giving to me you must’ve had a real good New Years Party.”

Duke’s blush deepened and his dark eyes trailed away from your face; it made you wonder what exactly was so embarrassing about his ‘party’ by himself. You tried to ask only for him to shake his head again, more of his face taking on the redness originally on his cheeks. Worried he might pass out you let him stumble into your home and nervously wave at the rest of the group. With a satisfied clap of your hands and a look down the road, you were pretty sure that was it for guests willing to spend their precious New Year with the only human in town. That is until the skirting sound of rubber burning on the roads carved through the rural area with an engine obnoxiously humming the loudest it could have arrived. Unlike your friends, it had stopped on the road instead of parking on the filled driveway. Outstepped the source of too much of your grief with being harassed for simply existing—Margarine. 

Stepping out of her iconic reddish-orange car was the fox hybrid responsible for your continuously outcasted status. So naturally you were far from pleased. Nonetheless, she stepped out smiling cruelly with her camera in hand. 

“Don’t cry ape-breath, I’m just getting the first shot of the human for the new year. The papers are going to love this.”

You were going to retort, thinking about setting a hose on her or something, until you felt the presence of one of your guests at your back. One of your freakishly tall guests with his intimidatingly large pointed smile. 

“Hi there, Margory. Do we have a problem here?”

It felt good to see her scramble, waving nervously as she returned to her car. Struggling for a little while to start it, when she finally got it she sped off. Thankfully saving her other nasty remarks for later, when your house wasn’t filled with six different people who would actively tear her in half.

“Thanks Sykes!”

“No problem, I only hope you remember this kind act of mine if I ever need some extra cards in this game of ours.”

Shaking your head you closed the door and let him pull you back to a bustling table filled with all the new friends you’d made. A group who truly didn’t mind that you were the only human.

Taglist: @midnight-nightmares@xrenka@candlesworlds-blog@00hellohello00@lem-hhn@kawaii-cakes@ceramic-raven@lilyalone@asleepysouluniverse @mel-vaz @sxftiebee @staarflowerr @horror-lover-69 @stanfordswifey @butratherbutrather @24-7aroundtheclockanxious @li-ravings @librarymouses @cooldonbutt @whoreforeverythingspice

First post of the year and it's hopefully holding everyone over for this series. Thanks everyone for the response to this one. I don't know what this year holds but I've got big ideas. Thanks to everyone here and Happy New Year! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[tranquilpetrichor]

lesson learned

synopsis: in which a tutoring session turns out to be much more in disguise.

cast: tutor!gunwook x fem!reader ft. gyuvin and ricky (briefly)

genre: high school!au, f2l

wc: 2.2k (2225)

warnings: suggestive, making out, yn’s outfit has a skirt, gunwook kisses yn on neck, they call each other "cute" and "hot, they r nerds, please don’t do this in a study room, barely proofread and edited help

a/n: i swear why is finishing stuff so hard, this could be so much better but i'm happy i managed to finish it. also it's kinda hard not writing from y/n's perspective but it shre is interesting. i wanna make longer fics lol but for now enjoy this bc i love writing about nerds and especially ones who are down bad.

be sure to reblog and like to support your creators!

bright sunlight filtered in through the windows of the empty study room as park gunwook typed away on his laptop, trying to get homework done quickly.

outside, some students were walking across campus, birds were flying freely, and there were a distinct lack of clouds in the sky.

he would probably be there too, but he was supposed to be tutoring you soon. as boredom was slowly starting to set in, he double-checked the time. it was one minute after your appointment was set to begin.

odd. you weren’t usually late to anything.

before he could ponder it further, you walked into the room, sighed and put your stuff beside him, apologizing for being late. “i was talking to another professor about something, and i didn’t expect it to take that long. my bad…”

something seemed a bit different about you, but he wasn’t sure why. he shrugged the thought off and chuckled quietly.

“it’s no problem, y/n. one minute is nothing. do you prefer the curtains open or closed?”

you waved a hand at the window. “let’s close them.”

he got up and pressed a button on the light switch panel near the doorway, and the curtains automatically came down. this private school sure spent money on interesting things, but at least they were occasionally useful.

cute outfit, he thought.

was that a new pair of boots? it paired nicely with the skirt you were wearing. you managed to look hot and adorable at the same time.

how unprofessional to be distracted by your appearance—he frowned.

snap out of it. it’s time to do math, not stare like an idiot.

luckily, you didn’t say anything, even though he swore he saw a tiny smirk on your face, which you quickly removed in favor of a more neutral expression.

that was weird, he thought as you got your tablet out—the one you liked to take notes on during the calculus class you two had together.

he wasn’t sure of your exact grade in the class, but he heard it was quite high. you were smart, but didn’t seem to have problems asking for help if you needed it. in his opinion, that was pretty admirable.

gunwook noticed that if you did need help, you’d go to the teacher or try and talk to him. the two of you exchanged numbers eventually, texting each other for study sessions.

he loved being able to talk to you more, slowly learning little things about you—like how you wore a certain necklace on big days for luck, that your go-to snack was nuts (he couldn’t help but think of you as a squirrel after that), and that you had a dog named citrus.

he got the feeling that you weren’t the biggest on socializing with many people, preferring to only keep compaany with a few friends. he’s mutual friends with a few of them, like jungwon.

it was refreshing compared to his large friend group (although he loved them) and the many people who were merely interested in him for his looks.

of course, he wouldn’t mind if you were interested in his looks, but hopefully you also liked something beyond that.

you probably did—who else would end up chatting about precious stones or logical fallacies with him? he loved seeing you excited and passionate.

god, his face was probably going to be red if he kept this up.

“i see you said you wanted to look at stuff from the last lecture when you were booking the session,” he said, trying to banish certain thoughts from his head. “series can be difficult, so i get it.”

you nodded, offering him a sweet smile. “yeah, i just wanna go over a few of the divergence and convergence problems on the first practice problem set. i have the problems listed here.”

you pushed your tablet in his direction, and he picked it up.

he glanced at your solution for the first one, nearly written. “i mean, it looks like you applied the test correctly. just to make sure, how did you know to use that one?”

you didn’t hesitate to answer.

“given series is a p-series where p is equal to three. p is greater than three, so the series will converge.”

as expected, you kept up with his questioning. of course you probably knew what a damn p-series is. he’d just wanted to hear your voice some more.

speaking of voices, maintaining a professional tone with you was a miracle. gunwook’s composure and eloquence were paramount to getting him through student council meetings, debates and tutoring sessions, but those skills seemed to want a temporary vacation.

“do you want to move onto the next one?” he said, defaulting to his standard tutor voice.

“mhm. i remember our teacher said there was more than one way to do it. i never tried to figure out the other ways, but now i’m curious.”

gunwook flipped to a certain page in his notebook. “do you want me to show you how i did it? it’s definitely a different method, but we got the same answer.”

you shrugged. “sure. take your time.”

you were twirling your stylus pen in your hands and swiftly tucked it atop your ear. fuck, did you not know how cute you looked? your hair was neatly parted near the middle right now, but he wondered what it’d be like to see you disheveled. at this point, he might be thinking with something other than his brain.

you spent another few minutes talking with him, bringing his memory back to previous tutoring sessions. he remembered you said once that having to justify your reasoning on a topic was one of the best ways to deepen understanding, and that he was skilled at identifying the holes in your arguments.

“that’s why i would hate to lose a debate against you,” you had admitted. “it’s always more fun when we can work together.”

the offhanded comment could’ve had another meeting. as an friend, gunwook couldn’t quite discern your intentions, though. whether you just wanted him at arms length or in your arms was just another guessing game he played.

he was aware that the balance of power was always shifting between you two, but at the end of the day, you two were pretty much equals intellectually, keeping things in equilibrium. however, his underlying feelings of attraction threatened to ruin the balance.

as the session continued, you had a satisfied smile. you asked him about unrelated math proofs and got him off track. why did you want to discuss all this when your sessions were usually more focused? something was definitely off.

“well, that was actually everything i wanted to ask about,” you said to him suddenly, packing up swiftly. “i was just going to go if you don’t have anything else.”

he frowned.

no, please don’t.

what was wrong with him?

“unless, you wanted me to stay..” you continued, a smirk on your face. your laptop was closed and all of your study materials were neatly filed away.

you were definitely teasing him, and it was working, your behavior making him somewhat flustered. there was no turning back if he let himself escalate things right now. he could just let you leave—that’s what rational gunwook would do.

fuck it. rational gunwook was not in the room right now.

he reached out and grasped your arm. “and if i did?”

you smirked and stepped towards him. “then i’ll make sure you don’t regret your choice.”

with that, you pressed your lips to his, surprising him. gunwook quickly recovered, his arm snaking around your waist, pulling you in more.

no wonder you booked the session for an hour and a half.

if anyone opens this door, i’m definitely getting kicked out as a tutor. at least these walls are pretty soundproof.

he pulled away for a bit to catch his breath. "wow, did you come here just to kiss me?”

you laughed, gazing at his eyes. "it wasn't only for that, although i'd be happy to do it again. let me clarify. i have feelings for you.”

you continued. “i’ve honestly thought about it. you’re hardworking, and not just in the classroom. when i see you practicing or studying, you dedicate yourself fully, and it inspires me to do the same. you're kind, even to people who don't deserve it. on top of that, you’ve always been a good person to talk to about anything and everything. i trust you.”

“oh, and i guess you’re cute. and hot.”

you added the last part with a small smile. after each reason, he found himself surprised by your sincere words.

gunwook groaned. “y/n, you have no idea how down bad i am. i don't even remember exactly when it started, but what i do know is that i met someone interesting, someone who challenges me and jokes with me. someone who's beautiful in every way. i'm so fucking into you."

he paused, before deciding to tease you a little. "i have a question about one thing, though. you ‘guess’ i’m cute?”

“well, did you want me to say for a fact that you’re cute?” you asked.

he pouted slightly. “would have been better.”

“fine,” you said, taking his hand. “it is an undisputed fact that you’re cute.”

“thank you.”

"and hot."

"i guess so..." you rolled your eyes, an amused grin on your face. “now can we get back to kissing?”

“i was acually trying to be professional, even though i had feelings for you too,” he whispered against your ear. “but since you insist, i’ll give you what you want.”

not wanting to rush despite his boyish excitement, he leaned down and slowly began to kiss you again, running one of his hands gently through your hair. you closed your eyes.

“want you to take control, gunwook,” you said, your breath hot against his skin and your arms wrapping around his neck.

how could he say no? he was so screwed whenever it came to you. wasting no time, he brought your hips closer to his, enjoying the proximity.

he’d never seen you like this, so blissful and carefree. all he wanted to do in this moment was to make sure you kept feeling that way.

he got a small idea.

“hold on, i’m going to lift you,” he said, and you tightened your hold on him, lifting your legs so that they wrapped around his waist. you looked like a koala, hanging on so protectively to him like he was a branch.

you let out a tiny laugh of glee—it was the cutest thing he’s ever heard.

he moved over to a chair, and carefully sat down with you in his arms. your skirt was spread across your lap, contributing to the newfound messiness of your appearance, and your legs dangled off both sides of the chair.

“let me know if you don’t like something,” he said in between kisses. “the last thing i want to do is pressure you.”

“of course,” you responded, squeezing his shoulders reassuringly.

as a surge of newfound confidence rushed through him, his kisses became more intense, trailing down to your collarbone. you tilted your neck slightly to allow him more access to the area.

shit, he was probably the luckiest guy alive right now.

“so beautiful,” he murmured, tracing your chin with one of his hands, “and you’re mine.”

damn, calm down now.

“wow, for someone who’s so sweet, you sure do have a possessive side.”

he winced. “is it too much?”

you laughed and smiled playfully. “not at all. i find it hot.”

that sentence alone sent a warmth through his body.

“that’s good to know,” he replied with a smirk. he was definitely going to do that more often.

soon, his lips found yours again, like a moth to a flame. damn, he could spend all day doing this (if they had no risk of getting caught).

in his pocket, his phone buzzed, and he sighed, looking at the notification.

gyuvin: r u coming to get ice cream with me and ricky? u said ur tutoring thing with ur gf ends at 4:00

the time was 3:44 pm. wow, were they really at it for that long?

gunwook smiled. gyuvin had texted “gf” as a joke, but little did the poor guy know.

“is it something important?” you asked, still on his lap.

he shut off the phone, looking back at you. “it’s gyuvin. during lunch, me, him and ricky made last minute plans to get ice cream—they’re asking me if i still want to come. i should get going soon.”

of course, his feet didn’t want to move.

you looked intrigued. “do they mind a plus one?”

yeah, they're going to tease me the entire time.

“i’ll ask,” he responded, face somewhat warm from embarrassment. "but one of these days, i’ll take you out on a proper date, just us two. you deserve it.”

your eyes lit up, and you smiled. “i’ll hold you to it, gunwook.”

his phone buzzed again.

gyuvin: yea sure bring her, we support

gyuvin: besides i have ricky he's gonna be my bf now

"they said yes," gunwook said, laughing silently at gyuvin's last message. "let's go in 5 minutes?"

you reciprocated, resting your head gently on his shoulder. "any longer and i don't think i could leave."

[xesiarah]

𓏵 Yan!Loser x Reader (Drabble)

My favorite animal is Lucian when reader tries to leave him 🤫🧏

His Intro Fic >.<

—

—

"A-am I not enough..?" Lucian's voice was whiney, meek, yet with a hint of menace seething through his words. There's something... something uncanny.. seemingly just right beneath the facade of innocence, the beads of tears rolling down his cheeks swiftly, and the glisten of the tip of the knife pressed firmly against his neck under the illuminating light.

"Why, why, why, why.." he mutters under his breath, repeating manically as if trying to think of a reason plausible enough for him, for his delusional, overthinking, — overbearingly possessive brain cells.

"I-i-i.. just love you so much... you can't do this to me... I just can't fucking breathe—" he trails off, his tears blurring his vision as he swore he could feel his legs weaken, like a victorian child seeing that Snapchat dog filter for the first time. — As if the idea of you being able to just walk out the door and leave him to go fend for himself, continuing on with your life without him being able to breath down your neck every second of everyday, just weakens his overall ability to function.

His breathing growis erratic, it's pattern going inconsistent. "I'll die... I'll die without you." The desperation is evident in the flickers of his eyes, a threatening madness, as if daring you. Daring you to walk out that door and leave his sorry ass.

"Okay, dude. What the fuck." You raise both hands in a defensive manner, your sweaty palms facing him. like yk what people do in movies when they get confronted by the FBI. "I was just fucking asking if you wanted chipotle.."

Maybe that 'i can fix him' mentality didn't work, after all. You think you sort of made him worse. "I just didn't want to drag you along, cus' I'll only be out briefly." You explained, your eyebrows knitted together as you took a step closer, it's as if concern, anxiety, was etched onto your face alltogether.. Just how mentally unwell is this motherfucker?

"I wanted to come a-a-along, and you didn't let me... W-what if you were secretly meeting someone else!? What if you—" his complaints, or more like blabber fall upon deaf ears. He didn't acknowledge the fact you were taking baby steps closer, immersed in his will to voice his worries.

Slowly, you managed to take hold of the knife, separating the dangerous weapon from the very dangerous person, regaining a sense of control of the situation as you coo empty praises in an attempt to soothe his shivered timbers, cupping both sides of his cheek and even wiping a few tears away with your thumb. You don't want to fucking die yet, after all.

He doesn't let you tear your gaze away from him as you gently, fucking finally, place the knife down on a nearby coffee table, your attention solely on him. As it should. According to him, I guess. — as soon as you do, he immediately jumps on you, clinging onto you like a lifeline as the suddenly impact causes the both of you to fall to the floor in a loud thud.

"Lucian..?" You question, raising an eyebrow.

He answers with nothing, scarily just doesn't say anything. Anything at all. The silence deafening. The only sound being his ragged breathing, and your own, mingling together. "Don't go." He mumbles after moments of silence, his breath hot against your skin.

He buries himself further into the crook of your neck, inhaling in your scent deeply. "Stay." He spoke once again, his voice now raspy from allat crying.

He snuggles onto you, as if trying to merge into one, single being. Whilst you on the other hand, lay in defeat. He's heavy. Like a damned boulder. What makes it worse is that you're sweating like a bitch and your head is throbbing from the sudden hit to the ground. — fucking hell. Guess you owe him cuddles now.

And, the price of wanting chipotle... 😞

[o-sachi]

Busted Lip ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ an ice pack should be enough to heal a busted lip, but you have another trick up your sleeve

ଳ character; hiragi toma (wind breaker)

ଳ tags; fluff, soft toma, gn reader, no y/n, ume silliness

[🐟]: To anon who requested a hiragi fic... thank you from the bottom of my hiragi-loving heart.

This was far from an unusual sight—Hiragi coming back from a scuffle and requiring you to patch up any injuries he sustained. But, as often as it happened, he would still insist that he was "a grown man" and that he could handle first aid on his own.

Too bad for Hiragi but you were more stubborn than he was. Despite his protests, it would always end up with him yielding to your commands.

He'd try to look annoyed and displeased with that grumpy look on his face, but the slight tint of red on his cheeks would betray him each time. At the very least, you'd spare the poor man of your teasing.

The Vaisravana unit came back to the school grounds a little later than expected. You were sure that if it were anyone else dating Hiragi—they'd already be shaking in their boots. But not you. You trusted Hiragi and his strength that no one would be able to take him down. Besides, you were also being pep talked by Ume as the two of you waited for them on the Furin rooftop.

"Ume-san, which part of town did they even go to? It's taking so long and I miss Toma already."

A booming laughter erupts from his chest. "They probably took a detour—buying us some food or something. Don't worry."

Oh well, it was always food with Ume. But if he isn't worried then, why should you be? You sat back in your seat, marveling at the setting sun before you while Ume continued taking photographs of his plants.

You sigh, longingly—and as if on cue—the doors to the rooftop swing open abruptly. A smile stretches on your face upon seeing Hiragi and all the other members on his unit. But your smile quickly turned lopsided once you noticed his busted lip. Hiragi thought he was being smart, trying to turn his head sideways and hoping that you wouldn't notice the glaring injury on his face.

Ume, on the other hand, was frowning for totally different reason and it had something to do with them coming back emptyhanded.

"You guys took so long and here I thought you were bringing back food..." With the way he pouted, it was almost impossible to tell that he was the top dog of Furin.

"Who said we were bringing ya back food?" Hiragi retorts, scratching the back of his neck.

Suo steps in with the usual calm expression. "It took us a while to come back because we encountered a couple of townspeople who requested our help."

Ume nodded. "How about we go get some food then and enjoy it up here? Hm? How does that sound?"

Nirei and Suo were on board as they always were with Ume's plans. Sakura insisted that he'd be heading home already, but that wasn't allowed on their watch. And Sugishita would go just about anywhere Ume wanted them to.

You already knew how Hiragi would respond, but would you felt being a little cheeky today in exchange for him making you miss him too much. Standing up from your seat, the grainy sound of the wooden chair against the concrete floor prompted the boys to look at you.

"Toma, you stay here with me," you say, firmly.

The others started snickering and teasing Hiragi who had the biggest scowl on his face—a scowl which was directed at them, of course. God forbid that he look at you with such a nasty expression.

They bicker a little more, wishing Hiragi good luck before he faces your "wrath". Exasperated, he shakes his head while everyone else filtered out of the rooftop. Once it was the two of you left, Hiragi glanced over at you.

"Ya thought that was funny hm?" he asks as he made his way over to you.

You watch as he pulls a chair closer to yours and you smile sweetly at his question. "They did laugh though, didn't they?"

He plops down on the chair with an exaggerated huff. Walking all afternoon was tiring enough and here you were—being brazen as ever. In front of the others too no less.

"You're a real piece of work," he murmurs. Normally, that sentence would have you raising your brow, but it came from Hiragi. He had a strange way of showing affection—not like you minded it.

You point a finger at his face, more specifically, the lip that was swelling up. "That. That's the real piece of work here. What happened to you huh?"

Hiragi clicks his tongue. It was naive of him to think that you'd let him get away with it without so much as an explanation. Seems pretty easy to do, but the fussing that would occur thereafter was the one thing he wanted to prevent.

Looking off to the side, he muttered beneath his breath. "Sakura hit me with a sign..." He spoke so softly as if the less you heard, the less you'd care about his busted lip.

Your brows furrow in confusion. You understood what he said, but at the same time you didn't.

"A sign? What sign? What were you guys up to?"

"We were helping an elderly couple put up a new sign on their store. So all of us hoisted up the sign and we were supposed to do it on my count of 3. But that damn kid doesn't know how to listen and hoisted too early."

His gaze wandered down to his feet, perching his elbows on his knees. "...Hence the busted lip."

A sigh of relief left your lips. Thankfully it wasn't a result of a fight this time. You could already imagine the kind of back-and-forth they had earlier with that sign. It made you giggle a bit—thinking about Hiragi and Sakura pointing fingers while everyone else stood awkwardly.

As soon as you stood up, his eyes were on you. "Where are ya going?"

"To the infirmary, duh. I'm getting you an icepack for that lip."

You were already a few steps ahead when he stopped you. A firm grasp was on your wrist as he held you in place. "Ya don't have to. Just stay here. It'll get better on its own."

You turn to look back at him. His gaze was firm, telling you that he was absolutely adamant that you stay put. Not wanting to be that overbearing partner, you give up on it.

Instead, you looked back at him with the same intensity. You two did this quite often which resulted in the others calling this little thing of yours as "flirting". Your own brand of flirting that is.

But a cheeky grin broke out on your face again at a silly thought that had crossed your mind.

"If you don't want an icepack and if you don't want me to move... well, I thought of a remedy that doesn't require any icepacks or me leaving here."

His interest... or trepidation, rather—was piqued.

Whatever "remedy" you have up your sleeve, he knew it was just another way of saying, "Oh I have another way to tease you and make you look like a fool in love."

Great. Just great, knowing that he had to indulge you as the good boyfriend that he is.

"What is it th-"

His sentence cuts off once you had your hands cupping his face and your lips on his. For someone weaker than him, you sure were strong enough when it came down to it. You pulled him down to your height while keeping your lips locked.

For a moment, you let him pull away. You wondered what kind of expression he'd make after this stunt that you pulled.

"Seriously?"

Once again, he tries to convince you about how disgruntled he was. But with the way his lips bent, it was clear he was trying to suppress a smile. How adorable, you thought.

The only attacks Hiragi couldn't defend against were the flurry of kisses you planted all over his face. His lips, cheeks, the tip of his nose, forehead—none of those were safe from your affections.

Before you knew it, the smile he had fought hard to subdue had made its way on his face. His own hands cupped your face, finally reciprocating the fondness you so kindly showered him with.

Your little moment, however, was interrupted by a squealing Ume.

"Hey, Nirei, get this on camera!"

... to which everyone else face palmed.

Not only did he ruin your fun, but he gave away their presence. So nothing was caught on camera that day.

Hiragi let go of you, giving you one last gentle gaze before scowling at the idiots that interrupted the two of you.

Well, he had to teach them a lesson before they could tease him, right?

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[impishjesters]

hiii! Could I just say that I absolutely love your writing and they way you describe jax? I love your writing style as well. So-

Could you write a jax x reader where the reader is very sensitive and prone to crying? Like they have a super loud and bold personality, kind of like jax, so you'd think a few mean words wouldn't affect them right? Wrong. They're actually super sensitive and can cry easily. Like maybe if jax were to get into a fight with reader and maybe takes it too far?

warnings(s): Jax, insults/name calling, nondescriptive arguments, angst (I tried to balance it out with some fluff in the second half) note(s): Jax is a noticeable ass in the first half of this, honestly Jax is his own warning A/N: I truthfully believe that his reaction would heavily depend on whether the two of you were just two people trapped here vs in a relationship of some sort. I don't want to post him being only an asshole, so I included his response/reactions if you were his s/o as well. (Also thank you for the kind words! 💜)

As two people trapped in the digital hellscape together

It doesn’t take you long to learn Jax’s disregard for the emotions of others. His blatant disregard for Gangle’s tears and Pomni’s little panic attacks that he only eggs on are proof enough.

Jax would’ve never suspected you to be sensitive given your loud and bold personality, he’s never noticed the subtle change in your posture or behavior when you get insultingly clumped in with the rest—or if he did notice, he never said anything.

A fight with Jax is a one-sided fight, he’ll throw some backhanded question about why you were suddenly being a crybaby, an unfunny joke about how you must’ve taken Gangle’s tragedy mask when he wasn’t looking.

“Look it’s not that big of a deal, I don’t know why you’re getting all bent out of shape.”

Jax is an ass through and through, he’s not trying to gaslight you into believing you’re crying over nothing, he genuinely believes you’re making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just words.

As his s/o

Again you are aware of just what kind of person Jax is—that said you are given some leniency to his awful behavior, unlike the others you have a special place in his chest cavity

As mentioned above he never really suspected you to be sensitive, though he can sort of piece two and two together when your behavior changes or if you just up and outright walk away.

Seeing your eyes water is definitely an indicator that what was said may have offended you in some manner.

Jax isn’t good with this sort of stuff, does he approach you and ask about it? Or does he just ignore it and let you come to him?

Ah, fuck…

It’s not that he doesn’t care that he upset you, but he’s just a tad confused about why you are suddenly upset.

The whole thing gets even messier when the two of you get into a fight. To him, this “fight” isn’t a big deal, when you mention that it’s something he said callously, he’s reminded of the times you walked away seemingly upset.

It takes him a few minutes to compose his thoughts and word himself carefully enough to avoid making the situation any worse, it’s one of the rare times you’ll get him to be more genuine and serious to work this out.

Afterward, he makes the effort to remember not to say or do certain things that particularly upset you. Though it’s tough, sometimes that shit just comes out with no filter, and whoops there he goes saying the thing he told himself he wasn’t going to say with you around.

None of it is ever directly aimed at you though, he can do that much at least.

On the occasion that something minor slips he’ll apologize later on, sigh, and give you a hug. Hugs don’t fix everything but they do get you to stop crying. (This is usually only during cases where you get choked up levels of sensitivity, like, a dog in a movie died and that’s a sad kind of sensitivity.)

On the topic of crying, Jax playfully (genuine) pokes fun at you when you cry over something minuscule. He’ll tease and ask if it’s a hobby crying over the little things—again not maliciously, if anything it’s kinda cute. (You are allowed to take a smack at him if his teasing is too much, he probably deserves it.)

[kisses4tom]

PT 2 OF TOM AS A DAD PLSSS

ᡣ𐭩 DAD TOM part 2!

───────────────

HEYY OFCC 🤭 SO MANY PPL ARE REQUESTING THIS ACTUALLY!! 😭 here is part 1

To be quite honest with you guys, I don't really know what else to add 😭, but I'll figure it out and make something up along the way! 💕

I hope it lives up to your expectations because, I will not lie, I ran out of ideas for a few of them 😭 yet I hope you like it either way! 🫶🏻

I also mixed various topics and scenarios for a little more inclusivity! especially because I made a lot of these hcs for a teen daughter

Obviously Tom is gonna be a girl dad 'cause what else would he beeeee 🤭🥹

───────────────

he would keep almost every drawing she's made throughout the years

HE WOULD LEND HER HIS YELLOW DOG PLUSHIE‼️‼️

when she's older he would love to get matching tattoos if she wants, but he's definitely getting one dedicated to her (did y'all know Bill and Tom have a matching tattoo with Leni? 👀)

definitely making her a photo album

if anybody says that the baby looks more like him than her mother he would act so proud istg

"Yeah, Y/n's genes said BYE!"

he would become her personal Instagram photographer

whenever his daughter brings a boy home he would be so sus of him and maybe even tell them to keep the door open 💀

DAD REFLEXES 🤭🤭‼️ so hot istg

he would get dragged into tiktoks and learn some dances together 😭

when the baby was younger, her mama would surprise Tom with matching fits and he would be sooo gitty and happy

always keeping an eye out for her in public

if he's talking to some people and he hears the smallest noise coming from his daughter (at the park or whatever), he would immidiately put everything on hold and make sure she's okay (if that makes sense idk), or he would turn to look at her

he would try to attend as many school/dance recitals as possible, but with work it's a little hard for him to find time (at times)

is she plays a sport he would cheer the loudest for her

if she ever comes out as an lgbtq+ member, he would be very supportive and just act casual after her confession

when the baby was just born and he had skin-to-skin contact with her for the first time, he got emotional

he would wake up in the middle of the night and feed her himself so you could rest (currently in between tears)

the band is OBSESSED with that child and always play with her whenever they have a chance

Tom knows he can rely on them as babysitters

why do I feel like him and Bill would FIGHT to choose who holds her

"Tom you always have her come onnn let me hold her this timeee"

he's so protective of that child

when she first started walking he’d kneel down and open his arms towards her

he would also scoot back so she could walk more and then let her fall in his arms (imagine him picking her up and kissing her cheek after 😭)

istg he would bring that child everywhere (especially when she's older)

he would make sure to dedicate her an episode/scene on Kaulitz & Kaulitz where he talks about fatherhood and his story

he's veeery supportive of everything she does

whenever he's live on Instagram or TikTok with the band he would call his daughter over and prank her with filters or something like that

he loves dressing her up, but hates changing her diaper

he usually doesn't enjoy shopping, but he would bring her everywhere and spend time together

he's such a quality time dad

when texting, he would send real time pictures of his most honest reaction LMFAO😭

he would make sure his and Gustav's daughter are like little cousins (spoiler alert: they are!)

his daughter will grow up with "do you need a stepmom by any chance?" questions 😻

if Tom and the baby's mom broke up, co-parenting would be pretty hard on him, as he loves that child so much it hurts him to know he can't see her every day

he would probably bring her to some meet and greets with fans (both now and back in the day)

fans would give him so many gifts for her

sometimes he gets emotional knowing she won't stay a baby forever, but he's still very excited to know her character and mess with her more

when she was a baby, at the beach he would dip her feet in the water

when she's older he'd splash the hell out of her and push her in the water

he definitely picks her up on his shoulders (both as a baby and as a teen)

if you have more ideas leave them in the comments so I can add them! 🤭

[alittlebitofsainz]

- you swear that you listened -

prompt: “so take me to every party and just talk to your friends.”

pairing: logan sargeant x reader

summary: why did he even bring you to meet his friends if he was going to forget you even existed? featuring an important conversation and a dog at the party

a/n: lyrics from track #65 - worst of you by maisie peters :)

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

“babe, what’s up with you? you’ve been quiet all night.”

“yeah, maybe it’s cos you didn’t talk to me for the entire time.” you shot back, both your words and tone harsher than you’d intended. logan was silent after that, and you stole a glance across to him sat in the passenger seat, immediately feeling guilty when you saw the wounded look on his face. you turned your gaze back to the road ahead with a heavy sigh.

it wasn’t really your fault that you were in such a bad mood; it had been your first time meeting a bunch of his childhood friends, stressful enough without the added bonus of you being the designated driver, so you had had to watch everyone slowly getting more and more intoxicated while you nursed the same diet coke for three hours straight. you’d offered to stay sober, but only because logan had emphasised that he hadn’t seen these friends in years, and it would be really nice to catch up with them over a beer, and you don’t really drink that much anyway, so you don’t mind driving, right?

“I don’t mind.” you’d said, because you knew logan had been having a tough season, and you wanted nothing more than to see him enjoying himself with his friends. and you. that had been the key part that was missing. you tried to join in on their conversations, you really did, but they were full of stories from the time before you even knew logan, sentences always seeming to start with “do you remember when…”. and every time you tried to speak up, to input something, the topic would change again, someone speaking over the top of you to remind the group of another funny anecdote from their past. you tried to catch logan’s eye, but to no avail, too wrapped up in old memories and the beer in his hand.

eventually you’d made an excuse about going to find the toilet, and disappeared off into a living room that no one was in. you weren’t even sure whether logan had noticed you were gone; you could still hear the ringing of his laughter drifting through the cracks between the door and the doorframe. at the least the dog came to find you. dogs were always the best thing at parties.

the worst part was that you didn’t know how to handle this. it had never happened before, you weren’t used to it. logan was always so attentive, so loving, so caring. he never failed to tell you, or show you, how much you really meant to him, his light shining through the darkness that had been this rollercoaster of a season. but around his friends, he just seemed different. like he’d forgotten you were even there.

the silence lasted the rest of the drive home. you once risked a glance across to logan, but his head was turning away, chin resting in his hand, his elbow propped against the passenger window, looking out at the world passing by as if he was deep in thought. from this angle, you couldn’t read his expression. you didn’t know if you even wanted to.

“I’m sorry, please, y/n, if I’ve done something wrong…”

logan tried again as you entered his apartment, his words slurred slightly, reminding you that now wasn’t time for this conversation when he was several beers deep and you were stone cold sober.

“really, lo, it’s…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it’s fine, so you just shook your head instead. “let’s just talk about it in the morning, okay?” you murmured, catching a glimpse of his crestfallen expression as you passed by him, a sight that made your heart ache. you both got ready for bed without speaking again, the tension in the air uncomfortable.

and when morning rolled around and the sun filtering through the curtains woke you from sleep, you found yourself still reluctant to talk about it. you rolled over, turning to face logan, only to find a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at you.

“you were mad at me.”

you bit back a sarcastic good morning to you too. now was not the time.

“what?” you tried feigning ignorance, voice quiet.

“last night, you were mad at me.” logan repeated, and you realised you weren’t getting out of this one. “why? I don’t get it; did you not have a good time?”

you blinked, letting his word settle in your mind, before your brows folded into a soft frown.

“you didn’t even notice?” you murmured, knowing what the answer would be.

“notice what?” logan’s face scrunched up in confusion, searching back through his memories, desperately trying to remember something specific in the haze of what had happened last night. you sighed. it was the answer you’d been expecting, and dreading.

“I left, like, halfway through. went and sat in the living room. alone.” you explained, trying to spell it out for him. logan’s confused expression deepened.

“w- wha- why?” he stuttered, propping himself up on his elbow, “baby, you should’ve told me if you weren’t having a good-“

“I tried to!” you cut him off sharply, tone growing exasperated, “I tried to, but I couldn’t get your attention. not even for two minutes. it felt like I wasn’t even there.”

he opened his mouth to argue, but found nothing to argue back with. now that he thought about it, you were right. he had barely noticed you, once he was surrounded by his friends and stories of old times, and he felt fucking awful about it.

“I’m sorry. oh, fuck, babe, I really am sorry.” he stammered, trying to get all his apologies out at once, words tripping out over his tongue. you both appreciated and hated seeing him so remorseful; you knew you couldn’t just let it slide, or it would only happen again and make you feel worse, but at the same time you knew logan was genuinely sorry.

“it’s okay, lo.” you reached out a hand, taking his in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. he drew in a soft breath, as if he expected a fight instead of forgiveness, and when his eyes met yours again they were glistening with unshed tears of remorse, “it was an accident, I know you didn’t mean to. everyone makes mistakes, right? we’re learning together.” you continued, a soft smile spreading across your face as you watched him relax slightly, tension leaving his shoulders. he nodded, ducking his head away to try and hide the tear thar had slipped down his cheek.

“right,” he agreed shakily, “I’m still sorry I made you feel forgotten about, really. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I know.” you replied softly, releasing his hand from yours and instead holding out both your arms as a silent invitation. logan was only too happy to accept, shuffling across the bed towards you and burying his head into the crook of your neck, your arms securing around his back. you felt him take a deep breath into your shoulder, chest rising deeply before falling back down again.

“I really love you, you know that, right?” he murmured, voice muffled as he rested his cheek against your skin. you chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I know. I love you too, Lo.”

a/n: i tried so hard to leave this on a more angsty ending but honestly i just can’t be mean to logan for more than five seconds he deserves happiness even if its just in fictional form

[selfship-confession-box]

★ Hello my fellow selfshippers! ★

PR0SHIP/C0MSHIP/TERFS/ZI0NISTS/ETC DNI. THIS IS NOT A SAFE PLACE FOR YOU.

Box Status: OPEN

Confessions are queued, may take a while to post ^^

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We tag them as "f/o (character here)!" It sometimes depends if the user who submitted the ask included a last name/full name/etc, as we may not know which characters the user is talking about 0_o (hence why we don't put fandoms)

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[merrybloomwrites]

He's Kind of Like the Sun

Summary: When your sister Grace starts making silly videos for her job, you have no idea the relationship this will lead to years later.

Word Count: 3.4K

AN: This story is kind of an amalgamation of an idea I had a year ago, mixed with a couple anonymous requests. My idea was that I wanted Ian x reader where reader is Grace Helbig's sister. One person asked for longtime friends Ian and reader to reveal their feeling in a Smosh video, and another person requested Ian and reader in a haunted house video together. So I just put all that together and this story was born! Hope you enjoy!

Title is taken from a quote Anthony once said about Ian

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When you were in high school, your sister started making YouTube videos. At first, people made jokes about it, judging her for the content she was posting. That all stopped once Daily Grace took off and they realized she was making a career out of posting silly videos online. 

You would help her out every now and then, excited that your big sister was including you. There’s a bit of an age gap between the two of you, meaning that instead of typical sibling bickering, you’d always looked up to her. So getting to help her with her cool job is like, the best thing ever. 

It takes a few years for youtube to really gain traction, and by that time, Grace has made quite a name for herself. There are a number of youtubers and channels that are big at this point, and they’ve even created a convention where they’re all invited to finally meet.

Grace asks you to come with her, and you immediately say yes. She lists some of the people who will be attending, and you cannot wait to be in the same room as all of them. So many of them are the people you’ve been watching online, and you hope to be able to meet some of your favorites.

Your wish comes true, and you spend those couple of days talking to as many content creators as possible, learning both about their channels and about them personally. It’s so much fun, and you love meeting everyone, but you especially love talking with Ian Hecox.

There’s just something that draws you to him. You love his fluffy hair, and his dry sense of humor. It’s also nice that he’s not trying to draw attention to himself, even though his channel is one of the most popular ones represented there. 

The two of you spend a fair amount of time together during that first Vidcon, and by the time it’s over you consider each other friends. You exchange contact information, and though you don’t talk often, you will occasionally reach out and check on one another. 

Years pass, you finish college, and move out to Los Angeles. When you tell your friends you’re moving there, they all assume you’re going to try getting into the entertainment industry, but really you just want to be closer to your sister.

You also like how mild the weather is in LA. Growing up in New Jersey, you’d experienced your fair share of brutal winters. Which is why you take advantage of how nice it is in southern California and go for a walk every single day. 

It has nothing to do with the fact that you’d bumped into Ian a couple weeks ago and learned that he lives just a few blocks away. You’re definitely not hoping that your paths will cross as he takes his dogs for a walk. But yea, it does make your day every time this does happen.

And then your sister starts dating Elliott Morgan from the Valley Folk. Who else is on that channel? Joe Bereta. And who is Joe Bereta very close with? Oh, just all of the people at Smosh, since he was a producer on the channel for years. 

Just one more way that you and Ian are connected. 

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise when Grace says, “Elliott and I are going to film a video for Smosh this week.”

And yet, the fact that your sister will be filming for Smosh totally throws you. Your brain to mouth filter disappears as you ask, “Can I come?”

“So you can see Ian?” Grace teases, knowing about your crush on the man. 

“No!” you exclaim. “It’s just my favorite Youtube channel. I’d love to see the behind the scenes there”

“Sure. That’s definitely all you want to see.”

You know that she’s caught your bluff, but honestly, you don’t care. If anyone is allowed to know the truth and tease you for it, it’s your big sister. She may joke around, but you know she just wants the best for you.

Which is why later that day she lets you know that you are welcome to join her for the shoot at Smosh the next week. You get to watch as they film Try Not to Laugh and Spelling Bee-Kini Wax. You’re very grateful not to be participating in the video, and a little weirded out to learn your sister's boyfriend doesn’t feel the pain of a bikini wax. 

You don’t see Ian around anywhere since he’s not in those two videos, and you're somewhat disappointed by that. However, just as you’re grabbing your bag to leave and giving up hope of seeing him, you suddenly hear him say, “Hey, Y/N, long time no see.”

Quickly turning, you smile at him and jokingly reply, “There you are! Thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

“Avoid you? Never! Got stuck in a meeting though. How were the shoots? Did you have a good time watching?”

“It was so fun finally watching the behind the scenes action here,” you answer.

“You know, you should be in a video yourself one of these days,” he says. “Maybe Eat it or Yeet it?” 

“Never in a million years,” you say.

The two of you laugh at that and then he adds, “In all seriousness, you should do a TNTL. If you’re interested we can send you the dates we’ll be filming and see if one works for you?”

“Yea, that sounds fun! I’d be down for that.”

“Perfect! We’ll be in touch.”

“Awesome. I’m pretty sure Grace and Elliott are waiting for me so I should get going. But it was nice to see you!”

“Yea, you too,” he says. His arms twitch by his side, like he wants to ask for a hug but changes his mind. So you initiate it instead, leaning in for a quick embrace which he happily returns.

“See you soon!” you say and you pull back. The two of you share another smile before you turn around to walk down the hallway. You turn the corner and see Grace standing there, noticing the knowing smirk on her face. That’s when you realize she witnessed all of that.

“Don’t say anything,” you declare immediately, and she mimes zipping her mouth shut, causing you to roll your eyes at her antics.

Thankfully though she listens, and doesn’t bring up you and Ian again. You get the email about filming dates a few days later, and after a bit of back and forth settle on a day in about one month.

Seeing Ian has apparently opened the gates for the two of you to talk more, and you find that you’re texting each other nearly every day. It’s nice, and so easy to chat back and forth with him. It’s more than just surface level conversation, and more than once you actually get pretty deep. There are also a few times where you’re convinced he’s flirting with you.

Because of this, you’re both nervous and excited when it’s finally the day you’re scheduled to film. Luckily you don’t have to be there until 10, giving you time to get ready. You’re not on camera that often anymore so it’s definitely a nice change of pace, and you hope you’re able to get into your entertainer mindset. 

You enter the Smosh office and you’re greeted by Selina. You’re barely there a minute before Ian walks over and says, “There you are! Thanks for coming, we’re so happy to have you join us today.”

This time, he initiates the hug, and as you reciprocate it you reply, “Thank you for having me.”

After stepping back he asks, “How are you feeling about today?”

“A little nervous, but I’ve planned some bits so, confident as well.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll do great! You’re a natural at comedy,” he replies.

The two of you banter back and forth for a couple more minutes, completely unaware of the audience of smosh crew and cast who are watching curiously. Sure, they’re used to Ian being friendly, but all of them can tell there’s something more happening here. 

Everyone acts natural as Ian leads you to the stage, the rest of the people involved in the shoot hanging back a moment so it doesn’t look like they’re following. 

When they do get there you start talking with Damien, and therefore miss the very pointed looks Courtney is giving Ian. He knows that Courtney is asking what’s up between the two of you, and rather than do anything to brush it off, he shrugs and smiles.

Garrett calls everyone over to begin the pre-filming improv exercises to get everyone ready and then the next thing you know, the shoot begins. You’re happy that they're just a well-practiced and well-oiled machine because it makes your job even easier. They film the intro, then Damien is in the hot seat first. You make him laugh with your joke, which boosts your confidence. While you had prepared ahead of time, it’s still nerve wracking to start, so it’s nice to be successful with your first bit.

You’re up next, and you settle on the stool while the others get ready behind the screen. You’re anticipating what jokes the others might do and filling your mouth with water when you hear a quiet conversation between Courtney and Ian.

“You good dude?” Courtney asks.

“Yea, just a little nervous,” he replies.

“You’re not normally nervous about this.”

“Well I’m not normally scared that I’m going to embarrass myself in front of the girl I’ve had a crush on for almost a decade.”

Courtney gives him a shocked look, clearly stunned that he just said that out loud with you in the same room.

He realizes his slip up a moment later and mutters, “Oh shit.” He bashfully steps around the curtain and looks at you, saying, “So much for not embarrassing myself.” 

You spit out the water as you laugh nervously. That reaction causes everyone else to laugh along and you ask, “Is this your bit?”

“No! I promise it’s not! Oh my god, this is a disaster.”

“I mean, it’s only a disaster if I don’t also have a crush on you.”

There’s a moment of tense silence before Ian asks, “Do you?”

“I do,” you say, not believing that this is all happening in front of a crowd while cameras are rolling. Your eyes meet Ian’s and both of you just smile shyly, taking a minute to enjoy this revelation.

Garrett clears his throat, snapping you back to the reality of where you are and what you’re doing. “Sorry to pop the bubble,” he says, “but we should probably finish the video.”

“Right, yes, let’s do that,” Ian says as he goes back behind the screen and you once again fill your mouth with water. 

The shoot continues, and everyone successfully makes you laugh. Finally, after everyone else has gone, it’s Ian’s turn in the hot seat. You’re the last to go, and you’ve been thinking of a new plan the whole time. Just before you go out, you have an idea. It’s bold, but with everything that’s already happened, you think it’ll go well.

You step out and walk up to Ian, saying, “So, I was thinking of testing some pickup lines on you. Okay, first one. Titanic. That’s my Icebreaker.” Before you can even finish, Ian laughs. You’re not surprised, knowing he’s a fan of disaster comedy. But you say, “Hold on, I have more! Do you like water? If so, you’ll like 60% of me.”

“Oh, I like that that one is factual,” Ian says.

“Last one. Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?”

“Hate raisins, but a date sounds perfect.”

“Yea?” You question.

“Yea. How’s this Friday?” Ian asks.

“Works for me!” 

“Hell yea!”

Once again everyone in the room laughs at that before you all focus and film the outro. When the shoot is officially done, you talk with the other cast members for a few minutes before they all start clearing out until it’s only you and Ian left.

He approaches you, shy once more, and says, “Y/N, I want to apologize for the way that just happened. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.”

“I know,” you reply. “But it’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m just happy about the outcome.”

“You’re sure? Cause if you felt pressured in any way-”

“Ian, I believe I was the one to ask you out in front of your friends and coworkers. If anything, I pressured you. So uh, if you want to change your answer now, you can.”

“No, not at all! Do you want to cancel?”

“No,” you answer with a smile. “I definitely don’t.

“Great, because I don’t either. How about I pick you up at 7?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Okay. Then I’ll see you Friday at 7. Here, let me walk you out.”

He reaches his arm out, as though he’s going to place a hand on your waist to lead you, but pulls away. You wouldn’t have minded, but you love that he’s not one of those men who forces physical contact in any type of way. 

There’s yet another awkward moment when you reach the door, but you move through it and share a quick hug before saying goodbye.

On the drive home you immediately call your sister to tell her the news.

“Grace,” you say the second she picks up.

“Y/N,” she replies, matching your energy.

“Something happened.”

“Something bad or something good?”

“Good. I think. I mean it was weird and awkward but like, everything ended up being good.”

“Go one,” she prompts.

“So while we were shooting, Ian accidentally let slip that he has a crush on me. Long story short, he and I have a date on Friday.”

“Holy shit. Y/N, that’s. Well that’s great! I mean, you’ve liked him for years. I’m happy you’re finally giving this a shot.”

“What if it goes wrong? What if we don’t actually work together?” you ask, clearly nervous.

Grace takes a deep breath and says, “Well then you’ve at least given it a chance and now you know. But Y/N, I’m sure it will go great, and the two of you will be very cute and happy together.”

“Thank you,” you reply, feeling better now with her support and encouragement. 

Ian picks you up Friday night, promptly at 7. He brings flowers, opens the car door for you, and pulls out your chair when you arrive at the Italian restaurant. The date is wonderful, the two of you losing track of time as you talk and laugh together. 

Back at your home, he walks you to your front door. You know that Marge, the lovely older lady in the unit next to yours will be asking you all about Ian tomorrow, but you don’t mind. 

“Thank you for dinner. I had a really great time tonight,” you say. 

“I did too,” he replies.

“Enough to do it again?”

“Oh absolutely.”

Of course it wouldn’t be an interaction between the two of you without it feeling a little awkward, but then Ian seems to gain a burst of confidence. He steps closer, his left and resting lightly on your waist as his right cups your cheek.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly.

He leans in, and after a brief pause, his lips meet yours in a sweet and gentle kiss. 

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night.”

You remain close for another moment before Ian steps back. He watches you to make sure you get inside safely before he makes his way home. 

Over the next couple of weeks you continue to talk to Ian at least a little bit every day, and go on a handful more dates. He sends you the completed Try Not to Laugh Video so you can check it before it’s posted, just to confirm you’re okay with including the personal moments between you and Ian. While you’re normally a pretty private person, you love that this whole interaction will be immortalized through the video, so you give the okay for it to go live.

As expected, the fans lose their minds. They gush over the two of you, already working on a ship name, and you’re glad to have their support. 

You’re not entirely surprised to get a mention on the next episode of This Might Get Weird, the podcast your sister does with her best friend, Mamrie Hart. 

“So, your sister broke the internet,” Mamrie starts.

“She did! I’m so proud,” Grace jokes. 

“I won’t lie, I have seen the two of them at events together over the years, and this truly was a long time coming.”

“Oh for sure. It was about time they figured this out.”

“Well, Y/N and Ian, we are very happy for you and we wish you the best,” Mamrie concludes.  

Things with Ian progress well, and as the months pass you grow closer and closer. You keep your relationship mostly private, just share a little every now and then.

Which is why you’re surprised when Ian asks if you’ll be a guest for an upcoming video. You’re staying at his place, and the two of you are cuddling together on the couch when he brings it up.

“What video?” you ask.

“It’s a fun Halloween one,” he replies. 

“So like, pumpkin carving?”

“Not exactly.”

“Ian. What is the video?”

“We were thinking of doing a haunted house in the office.”

“Ah, I see. So you want me to what, go through this haunted house with you so I can protect you from the monsters?” you ask jokingly. 

“Oh, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” he replies with mock-seriousness.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“Really?”

“Yea, I like Halloween. I’ve never gone through a haunted house, but I figure I can handle one that’s being run by a bunch of comedians. But you owe me.”

“Oh yea? And what would you like in return?”

Instead of answering out loud, you shift to straddle him hips, leaning down for a kiss. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

Lucky for you, Ian is a smart man, quickly catching on and taking you to bed. 

As it turns out, a bunch of comedians do a pretty good job at making something scary. While you and Ian joked about him needing protection, it turns out you’re the jumpy one. The two of you walk through together, and at the first jumpscare, you grab onto Ian, holding him tight. 

You’re surprised he doesn’t hide behind you, and the only time he leaves your side is when one of the scares ends up being Ericka’s dog, Winnie, in an adorable devil costume. 

Lulled into a false sense of security, you continue on, only for Tommy to scare the shit out of you. Without hesitation, Ian steps forward, saving you from the evil monster. Of course you both start laughing once the slight fear wears off, but you store that moment in the back of your mind. Even though this is all silly and low stakes, it makes you happy to know that his instinct is to protect you. 

Though the haunted house is fun, you’re still relieved when you get to the end. Courtney comes up to you and Ian and says, “The fans are gonna absolutely love that. You two were perfect.”

The compliment makes you blush, and you hide against Ian once more, causing the others to laugh.

You spend the rest of the afternoon hanging around Smosh. This has become a more common occurrence recently, and it’s been great to start building friendships with the people there. They have one more video to film, a Try Not to Laugh, and you reminisce on the episode you were in, and how it brought you and Ian together.

The internet may have its downfalls, but you’re grateful everyday for its existence. Because without the internet, and without youtube, you never would have connected with this man who you now hope to spend the rest of your life with.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I have another Ian story planned, but feel free to send requests!

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 69)

It seemed like the moment Tera got her fangs she became obsessed with using them.

It had been multiple weeks of wrangling her to let things go, to not utterly destroy every blanket, pillow, toy, or random chunks of metal she found. She was like a puppy, using her fangs as an extra hand to feel out the world with her mouth.

Both Uzi's and N's hands were covered in tiny bite marks, Tera would never truly try to bite either of them, but that didn't mean she didn't nibble and knaw at their hands whenever she got the chance, like love bites, only slightly more painful.

It didn't help that Uzi's mood was already on an extremely short emotional fuse. She was constantly tired, her back ached and she was utterly sick of getting sick. More was coming out of her then she was putting in, and yet she was still gaining weight.

Month two of her pregnancy was looking to be a worse rehash of month one, where she was decidedly less worried and emotionally vulnerable and much more pissed beyond measure.

V was also sticking around more.

It was weird.

They lived side by side, so they'd always seen quite a bit of her, even if it was only passing conversation as they went to and from wherever they were going. But now V was inviting herself over. Offering to help with Tera, or asking if she needed oil, or something to eat, or just… being considerate.

Uzi wasn't sure what exactly was going on with her. But V also refused to take no for an answer. So… she was just hanging around, mostly dozing off on the couch or lazily playing with Tera, who's favorite game was now ‘tug of war’.

“Are you gonna tell me why you suddenly want to be here? Or are you just going to keep me guessing?” Uzi finally asked after the third day that week V had miraculously gotten into the apartment without her knowledge.

“Nope.” V hummed back, the ‘p’ popping as she went back to playing with the newly energized solver kit, tugging on a rope toy made for dogs.

Despite V's normal antagonistic behavior, her presence was actually incredibly… welcome.

Taking care of Tera, doing the household chores. And trying to decipher what the hell was up with Doll, before had been no problem. Was starting to get a little difficult, in part because of Tera's new penchant for destruction, but her core felt heavy and sluggish, stuttering as it used quite a bit of power to combine her and N's code together. Her core was even lighter now, becoming a light shade of lavender instead of a deep violet.

And having someone around to help, even if Uzi couldn't decipher the reason why, was not something she was going to complain about.

At this very moment though, she was washing bottles in preparation to refill them, while also replacing the rubber caps, as now they were full of bite marks and rips.

“Sooo where do you get the oil?” V asked, for the first time genuine curiosity in her voice. And Uzi didn't even turn around to answer as she scrubbed the inside of another bottle.

“Uh… the nursery?”

“No. Not the oil you drink, the oil she drinks. N was saying something about her oil needing to be filtered or, whatever.”

“Me?”

“… Do you like… prick yourself?”

“What? No. I have a side pannel that opens… did you not know?” Now Uzi turned to look at her, finding her holding Tera up in the air with one hand, away from the rope toy.

“No. Why should I know? I didn't pay too much attention to who I was killing.” V always had the tone like she didn't care or wasn't interested, but it really wasn't fooling Uzi anymore, if V truly wasn't interested, she wouldn't have asked.

“Yup. Every worker drone has a side panel, has a oil port, a charge port, everything we need to take care of kids. N doesn't have one, we checked. So you probably don't either.” She explained, thankful that it's the last time she'd have to explain this.

“Huh.”

Then there was silence again, Uzi trying to get a particularly stubborn stain off a bottle and going to town at it, growling slightly as if that would help scare it away.

When her head suddenly felt like lead.

She leaned over the sink as the feeling of extreme dizziness washed over her, her core skipping beats as her vison went blurry and her hearing faded into muffled sounds.

She dropped the bottle and it clattered against the floor, bouncing away on the tile. And gripped the side of the sink, feeling herself becoming unsteady as her legs wobbled and her stomach turned exactly once.

Then she began to fall to the side, unable to keep her balance, vison blinking out, bracing to hit the hard floor with what little withering control she had over her body.

Only she never did, something had caught her halfway down, cradling her gently and purring softly, she almost thought it was N, with how gentle they were, but he wouldn't be home for a couple more hours.

When her head stopped spinning and her core went back to its normal tempo, the first thing she felt was the plush texture of the couch, not the cold tile of the floor. And the feeling of a warm hand on her forehead.

And when her eyelights opened, she realized it was V. Holding her head to check her temperature.

What. The Fuck.

“V?”

“Oh good, you're fine.” She immediately removed her hand, but still hovering over her as V looked down at her, looking as blasé as ever.

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Why are you complaining?” V quipped back, putting a hand in her hip as Uzi sat up, and shook the lead from her head.

Uzi sighed, grumbling as she truly, honestly, did not have the energy to argue with V over her weirdness, but she guessed she shouldn't complain, as he had just been saved from hitting the floor.

“Oh whatever, thanks for catching me… I guess.” Uzi went to get back up, but V pushed her back into the couch with a decent amount of force, dropping Tera into Uzi's lap before walking over to the sink herself.

“Mmmhm.” Was all V said, before beginning to finish cleaning out the bottles herself.

With another long-suffering, confused sigh, Uzi took V's previous position of playing tug of war with Tera, letting V do whatever the hell she wanted.

Next->

[good-to-drive]

Rating Beatle Caricatures from The Simpsons (Non-Exhaustive)

7/10. Pretty much exactly what you'd imagine "Simpsons-style Beatles" to look like. Paul's sultry-yet-superior eyes are simple and effective. John and George are recognizable but unremarkable, though John's Roman nose has translated well. Ringo's puppy dog eyes are perfect and his nose is only mildly offensive.

11/10. Deeply offensive portrayal of the snooter but I don't care. I want a pocket sized figurine of this character to carry with me at all times because looking at this picture tells me that everything is going to be all right. The warm fuzziness of Ringo Starr has blended perfectly with the warm fuzziness of classic Simpsons and I could not be happier.

2/10. I'm not saying it isn't accurate, I'm just saying that I hate it.

9/10. I'm biased because this episode sparked my interest in vegetarianism, but they really have captured the effeminate, dreamy, fuckable look of mid 90s Paul McCartney incredibly well, right down to the eyebrows. There's a touch of their later tendency to draw celebrities in a less stylistic way than original characters, but he's still very clearly Simpsons Paul. We don't have to talk about what they did to Linda.

3/10. The glasses are doing a LOT of work here. Somehow it feels like they tried to make him more conventionally attractive, like they put their reference photo through an Instagram filter before they drew it. It's symptomatic of modern Simpsons in that it's pleasant to look at but devoid of personality or joy. Also, on a personal note, this episode led to a lot of jokes online about how John would never go to heaven, which isn't so much offensive as offensively first-thought.

0/10. Soulless.

10000000/10. I know technically this one doesn't count, but this episode and specifically this still is undeniably their best and most compelling caricature of The Beatles. Apu radiating George's exhaustion and disillusionment, Barney/John looking to Homer/Paul with mistrust (but he's still looking to him), and Skinner with his eyes downcast, fully withdrawn into himself, a stone in a river that has overflowed. They've deviated from the original image but in doing so have made its impact more pointed and powerful. As we look at this still we become heartbreakingly aware that The Be Sharps are over in every way that matters, and yet we know too that they are not over. That the love Homer felt for his unborn child when he wrote Baby On Board is only growing stronger every day, that the things expressed in this episode will continue to matter to us even after the characters have returned to their normal roles. The Simpsons is episodic by nature and nothing, no matter how compelling, will still exist in a week. But ephemeral things like love and hope and earnestness are no less powerful, no less the purpose of our human lives, because they come to us in brief episodes. Just because they no longer exist it doesn't mean they are no longer real. I don't know why they drew Yoko like that.

[mykoreanlove]

Fake date me please?

How Felix and you showed everyone you were dating

“We need pictures!”, he exclaimed cheerily.

“Pictures?”

“Yeah, of you and me. You know, doing boyfriend and girlfriend stuff.”

Your stomach turned again, your insecurity grew bigger and bigger. Felix grabbed you and hugged you tightly while shooting some selfies.

“Y/N, why do you look so uncomfortable? It looks like you want to break up with me”, he frowned disappointed.

“Sorry, I.. I have never been in a real relationship before, so I don’t know how to act”, you answered truthfully.

“Ah, I See.”

He fiddled with his phone and hugged you again but this time his camera had silly filters on, which turned you into cute little dogs.

“What is this”, you laughed happily.

“Just a silly way to get you smile, beautiful. Come on, let’s be silly and have fun.”

His phone battery was about to die because of the plethora of selfies you took.

“They look good”, he smiled proudly. “Let’s upload them later. What do you want to do next?”

This one got you thinking – what do couples normally do?

“Oh”, you jumped up and down happily, “let’s go for a walk while holding hands.”

His face fell instantly, and you feared you had said the wrong thing. Were you even too stupid for a fake relationship?

“I don’t like holding hands, actually. But you can grab my arm or something?”

Relief washed over you.

“Okay”.

You walked along the water and got to know each other. Even though you were total strangers, it didn’t feel that strange at all.

“Y/N”, Felix whispered. “Don’t freak out but people from campus are coming our way. I’m going to do something drastic, okay?”

By now you weren’t sure if you felt nauseous from fear or excited from the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey, isn’t that Felix? And y/n?” you heard your peers call out.

Felix grabbed you by your arm and turned you to him as he placed his thumb on your lips and leaned in for a kiss.

Your heart was pounding heavily. He wasn’t kissing you; he was kissing his thumb, but no one saw the difference. No one but you.

You closed your eyes and surrendered – this moment, fake or not, was magical. You took in his musky cologne; you felt his long lashes against your cheeks and his strong arm on your back. You sighed internally – is this what love was like?

“Shit, I guess they are really dating.”

Felix took a step back, his cheeks slightly reddened.

“I guess it worked”, you cheered. “Yeah, I guess it worked”, he replied shily.

“Are you hungry?”

Felix insisted on paying but you beat him to the curb.

“Let me show you my thankfulness by buying these delicious treats and this bottle of soju. Felix, please?”

You sat down by the water and enjoyed the food, as well as your company.

“I hate drinking but with you it’s kind of fun”, he exclaimed.

“Really? I thought you were some kind of party animal on campus.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, people love to make up a lot of stuff.”

“Speaking of people”, you turned to face him, “they have a hard time believing that you and I are dating.”

“And why is that?”

You swallowed another shot before answering.

“Well, it’s because you are you. You are popular and handsome, and you can date anyone but me? I’m a nobody. It makes sense that they are suspicious.”

Felix simply listened. He knew that you were right – in this current reality you were seen like that. Even worse, you saw yourself like that.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Why are you not with anybody?”

A sad smile spread on his face.

“I have trouble opening up to people, I guess.” This caught you by surprise.

“You do?”

He nodded again.

“Yeah, it’s easy to be with someone for a short amount of time, like all the fun and physical stuff but then it’s too much for me. I don’t want to open up and let someone in, not for real anyway.”

Both of you downed another shot in silence. You would have never guessed that even if you were dating a lot, you would still feel out of love at the end of the day.

______________

part 1 part 3

[being-addie]

Little Ways to Love Your Life

I love performing little rituals to enhance my life. It's infinitely satisfying and it reminds me why living is so beautiful, on days when I start viewing the world through a pessimistic lens. This is your reminder that there's so much beauty in the mundane, just start looking for it :)

Here's some things I do that make me love my life just a little bit more:

Wake with the sun:

There is nothing better than opening your eyes to golden sunshine on your face. The golden hour has this quality that makes you feel like royalty.

Move your body:

Give your body a dose of endorphins by doing some exercise! Go for a hot girl walk, hit the gym for a sweaty HIIT sesh, or just groove to some Just Dance. I promise it will make you feel like you can conquer the world.

Smell sweet:

Put on a playlist and sing as you shower. Lather yourself up with sweet-smelling soap, and after you step out of the bath, slick on some vanilla scented moisturizer, and perfume. Don't forget deodorant! Make sure to stick with organic products because chemicals can irritate your skin.

Food = love:

A full stomach is a happy person. Make yourself a cup of coffee, and a hearty breakfast. Take note of the way milk swirls into the dark coffee, how the egg sizzles in the pan. Allow yourself to just exist in the moment, where you are taking care of your mind and body.

Self-love:

While I eat healthy 90% of the time, on days I really need to feel excited, I go buy a pain au chocolat from my nearest artisan bakery. It's one of my favourite foods to indulge in and it always makes me smile. Likewise, buy yourself something nice. It could be a new shirt, a bouquet of flowers, or designer chocolates. Indulge in yourself. You deserve it.

Look at beautiful things:

I don't mean window shopping or aesthetic Instagram pictures. Go out and observe. Look at the shape of the clouds, and how the trees dance in the wind. Pet that cute dog. Smell the wildflowers. Disconnect from the online world, even if it's for half an hour. Give yourself that much time.

Take pictures:

Screw retail therapy, taking aesthetic pictures is my new thing. Take so many pictures. The way sunlight filters in through your window, a cat stretching, a close-up of a flower, your Starbucks mocha latte. Unleash your inner photographer.

Pursue your hobbies:

When I'm down I play the piano or whip out my glue gun and craft my worries away. Doing something you love instantly puts your brain in a good mood. It could be tennis, gardening, quilling, birdwatching. Whatever you love. Do it.

Restrict your social media:

I was unknowingly comparing myself to all the girls I saw on Instagram and it was so detrimental to my self-esteem. I ended up deleting the app. I'm currently planning on reinstalling it by July next year. Delete the apps that do not make you feel good. You will have more time to dedicate to work, hobbies, family and relationships.

Finding joy in the mundane is the most healing thing you can do. Make your routine special, and switch it up once in a while. Don't shy away from your dream life, because you DESERVE it. You deserve EVERYTHING you ever want, okay? Now go get it. xoxo

<3