#and if you do decide to become an artist then i hope you find it enjoyable!!

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @mimimar

Hi! I’m Michelle (Mimimar), an illustrator born and raised in Venezuela, currently based in Italy. I enjoy making colorful illustrations that reflect the things I love: fairy tales, fantasy, tenderness and queer (especially sapphic) stories. Occasionally, I also make paper dolls, comics and animatics. I have a lot of interest in book illustration and I’m currently developing my own stories that I hope to share as an author-illustrator someday!

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I always enjoyed drawing when I was a kid, but it only became a hobby that I did almost every day when I was around 11. At first I only used traditional mediums, but I decided to make a serious effort to learn how to draw digitally when I was 15, and once I got the hang of it I never stopped!

I didn’t go to art school so all of my learning was done through studying the tutorials and resources that other artists generously share on the internet and lots of practice / trial and error.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I want to do many things but what I want to do the most right now is work on books! I want to make art for other authors’ stories and also my own stories as an author-illustrator. I want to grow as a storyteller and create art and stories that will really resonate with people emotionally. I’m always striving to improve my skills as well.

I also really love dolls, so working on doll box art or as a doll designer is something I would love to do someday. I actually have been designing paper dolls on my Patreon for the past few months, it’s been a fun project that is still ongoing right now!

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Probably using a lot of purple! It’s my favorite color so I find myself using it a lot. If I can find a way to sneak a little bit of purple into an illustration or a character design then I will.

Congratulations on finishing your Ivy Comic! Did the outcome turn out like how you expected or were there some unexpected bumps along the way?

Thank you! It’s a project that I worked on very slowly in between other art because I wanted to really take my time with every spread and make each of them a fully detailed illustration. I thumbnailed the full comic before starting but I kept changing the sketch for the final spread until the very end! Overall I’m really proud of the end result. I sprinkled a lot of hidden details in every page that I hope some of the readers will notice. For example: the meanings of the flowers in each page represent what the characters are feeling in that moment, and the colors of their wardrobe become gradually lighter as the story progresses to represent their emotions, as well as the changing of seasons.

We’ve noticed that you have created some amazing cover art for TGCF. Is there another series you would like to do something similar with? 

That was another passion project that took some time to complete. Initially, I didn’t intend for them to be specifically covers, it was just a series of illustrations based on the 5 books/main arcs of TGCF. But since they were well-received and I had people telling me they wish they could use them as covers for their books, I decided to rework them into dust jackets for the english translation of TGCF!

I haven’t thought of any other specific series but I love doing cover art so maybe I’ll do something similar again in the future!

What’s your favorite part of your style? Why?

I’ve heard from other people that there’s a delicate quality to my art, this is something that I like a lot! I like pretty things, fairytales and vibrant colors. I think all of these things probably reflect in the art I make as well.

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

I hope that they remember how it made them feel. Feelings and colors are the two things I give priority to in my work. Most of the time I like depicting tenderness, softness and emotional intimacy. If that could reach the viewer and stay with them it would make me very happy. 

I make a lot of art with queer (mainly sapphic) themes because they’re the kind of stories I personally like and want to see more of, so whenever people tell me that my art has helped them in their journey to discover and accept themselves, or that they see themselves and their partner in my art, it is always extremely meaningful to me. When art that I made to give myself comfort can provide comfort for others, no matter how small, it reminds me once again that despite any hardships art is genuinely worth pursuing.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So many artists! To name a few:  I love @sakizo’s amazing eye for fashion and detail,  @paneeps’ gorgeous style and striking colors,  the sweetness of @bevsi’s art,  @vickisigh’s pretty colors and concepts,  @idledee’s warm and heartfelt art,  @littlestpersimmon’s dreamy wonderful art,  and @loish has been an inspiration for as long as I can remember.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @mimimar.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #tgcf #ivy comic #mimimar

[dduane]

Hi Diane!

I promise this will end in an ask, but I have a story to share first, if you have the time.

I’m very new to Tumblr, in fact, I was moved to finally create an account to send you this message, but I’ve been casually poking around for a bit. A quick google last summer told me that Tumblr is the best place to get Good Omens news from Neil himself, but it didn’t do the courtesy of warning me just how magnetic this particular bastion of chaotic creative internet mayhem can be. This story is one example. Fun note, when I was composing this message my husband looked over my shoulder at the literal essay I’d typed out and suggested that I maybe, perhaps, might consider shortening it to the length of a conversation that could take place in an elevator. Or in line at the coffee shop. However, i’m not one sacrifice enormity for brevity.

Your post the other day regarding the cover for your novel, Stealing the Elf King’s Roses, got me thinking. First, that it was a very genuine thing to share, second, that I wasn’t entirely sure why I wasn’t immediately familiar with your work, and third, what a fun visual challenge. I was still thinking about it when I should have been sleeping, so I decided to dig in. I almost stopped reading your bio at the ‘blah blah blah’ because I was feeling quite bad about my media literacy at that point, but then I saw that you’re well-known for the Young Wizard series.

The Young Wizard series.

I said I’d try to keep it brief and this is my best attempt. I read books 1-5 of that series during the hardest, strangest, most heartbreaking time in my childhood when I desperately needed a different reality than my own. What I found in your novels was so much better than that. Your stories, your characters, your vision, helped teach me to ground myself in my strengths, frame my reality with hope and purpose, and how to build the spaces I needed within myself to find the compassion, forgiveness, joy and peace I so desperately needed. One of the things I built within myself on my healing journey was a beautiful jeweled box. It resides in my mind just off of I-335 in Topeka, Kansas. I was driving through the flint hills on a road trip from Milwaukee to Wichita when I finally finished the long process of constructing it, so that is where it stays, shining in the sun and twinkling under the stars. This box contains everything I experienced that couldn’t come with me as I grew. Crafting it was a lengthy, emotional, wrenching process, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever done to allow me to become the person I am today. I used visit it every now and again, to make sure the jewels are still bright, but I’m very careful to not jostle the lid.

I’m recounting all of this to you because two nights ago I quite suddenly found myself standing beside my box for the first time in almost a decade. I could feel the gravel under my slipper socks as I gently opened the lid to see my copies of your books resting at the very top. I wasn’t immediately familiar with your work when I saw your name because it is so inextricable from the very fabric of how healed myself, that I accidentally let your words fall under the closed lid of the very box they helped enable me to make. Nothing else clamored to be released as I carefully pulled them out, and once more closed the lid.

So, the ask. I will be brief here - I’m an artist. Not currently working professionally as I’m exploring a different career path, but I’m usually working on a personal project or two. I needed a new one and was still intrigued by the post that started this all, so to help me process the emotions described above I made a version of a cover for STEKR and wanted to ask if I could share it with you. It looks like I can’t attach here, but I’d love to post it on my new, very empty page. It truly might not be your style, but I once again found solace in a space you opened the door to and this time I have the opportunity to share it!

Also, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

You're so very welcome! And I'm really glad the books were there for you when you needed them. (And plainly are there with you still.) 😊

And absolutely, post that cover! I'll be delighted to see it.

#Stealing the Elf-King's Roses

[chlorinecake]

🎙️ star-crossed lovers 【 薄幸な恋人 】 ⛦

summ✩ry ⭑⭒⭑ As rehearsals and promotions for your big collab stage with Enhypen become progressively more intense, you and Niki face challenges that might effect your secret relationship and standing with the company...

p✩iring ⭑⭒⭑ idol!niki x popstar!reader PREVIOUSLY

cont✩ins ⭑⭒⭑ band au, fluff, secret romance, kissing + a slightly heated make-out scene, mild bullying, LOTS of drama, reader is younger than Niki, 3.6k words

It felt strange having your hair, makeup, and clothes managed by someone else, especially in such a meticulous way.

Today was the big day of the Riot Grrlz x Enhypen fan meeting that Hybe was hosting in honor of your upcoming collaboration stage, the event acting as some sort of promotional.

The fashion theme for the day, as decided by the likes of an online poll distributed by Enhypen's Instagram account, was 'Schoolgirl / Schoolboy,' which meant everyone would be dressed in plaid neck ties and neatly-ironed button-down blazers.

“This'll have to do,” murmured one of the makeup artist's on duty, simply dusting you with a bit of blush, some gloss, and shimmery eye shadow because they couldn't find a foundation shade that matched your skin color.

“I can't find my contact solution!” Serenity exclaimed frantically in the dressing studio, searching through her sparkly teal duffle bag for the fifth time this hour.

Of course none of you were willing to assist her on the aimless contact solution hunt, especially not with the way she verbally harassed the makeup crew for not "lining her eyes right."

“Just let it go, Ren,” Sunghoon said with an annoyed sigh, “the stylists are making all of us wear glasses for the concept today anyways...”

“Okay first of all, don't call me by my nickname. Second, it's not my vision I'm worried about, but my image,” she clarified matter-of-factly, “I wanna impress the Korean fans with a big and bright boba eye moment...”

“You have sooo many problems,” Jade added with a similar irritation, rolling her eyes at the diva before a hairstylist ran over to clip in another track of fake hair.

“Tell me about it,” Serenity huffed despairingly, sticking her arms out like a scarecrow as the fashion crew adjusted the belt around her waist.

“Let's just try and maintain a good mood before the meeting guys,” you started optimistically amongst the tension, “the fans might pick up on our bad energy if we all show up pouting like this...”

“Easy for you to say,” Niki replied teasingly, “you slept like a baby last night… meanwhile, you kept me up with your insistent snoring…”

“Did not,” you whined in protest, looking back at his attractively playful expression, “it’s not my fault that the stories you tell in your groggy bedtime voice are so relaxing.”

Niki meant to reply but was rudely interrupted by Serenity’s stinky attitude, “Aww, late night bonding moment, I see? Hope a little ‘story time’ was as far as it got for you two lovebirds...”

You and Niki shook your heads in unison at her senseless comment, the rest of Enhypen and your band mates soon rushing out of the dressing room and outside to the awaiting limousine as the schedule manager directed.

“Make sure you have everything you need, guys! We’re running a bit behind on time and can’t afford any more set-backs,” exclaimed a tall, broad man in athletic wear, a black Hybe hat topping off his look.

“Got it, sir,” Jungwon replied politely, double-checking his leather cross-body bag before stepping into the vehicle, the rest of you following after him.

You didn’t expect to see Miss Kim in the front seat with the chauffeur, but you greeted her nonetheless.

“Morning, Miss Kim!,” You and Hearin started enthusiastically.

“Morning, Riot Grrlz,” she returned while not looking at any of you, writing hasty yet neat notes down on her clipboard, “I’ll be bold and assume you ladies have never attended any sort of fan event, correct?”

“Y-yes, that is correct,” Jade answered before you, crossing her legs in her seat, “this’ll be our very first experience today…”

“Oh, that’s cool for you then, isn’t it? Don’t worry if you don’t know what to say or do, by the way... just copy us,” you heard Heeseung encourage somewhere behind you, but your mind was more focused on the way Niki’s hand accidentally brushed against yours while you two glared out of the same window...

Accidentally… maybe…

“I was just getting around to that, Heeseung,” Miss Kim continued after clearing her coffee-stained throat, “Korean fans as a whole are pretty cutthroat, and whether you’re a foreigner or not, they expect you to present yourself a certain way…”

“Perfect,” Sunoo thought out loud, “they expect you to be perfect…”

“That’s just the way this idol life goes, I'm afraid,” Jungwon sighed from his seat, not empathetically, but in a realistic sense.

“Either way, you girls should be safe to mirror whatever the boys are doing if you ever feel confused…” Miss Kim trailed off, the limo being just a few feet from reaching the fan meeting center, “Good luck today, you all.”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Things were turning out surprisingly smooth at the event, to say the least.

Needless to mention, you and Niki stayed pretty close the entire time, and the fans seemed to be amused by your attempt at famous duo heart poses with him.

“Just extend your hand like this,” he instructed while giggling, watching as your overhead heart ended up looking more like an oval to the audience.

Serenity was received as a fan favorite, too, her “boba eye” look captivating the male attendees while others were more entertained in her beginner Korean skills.

“Hwaiting,” she exclaimed confidently before the fans one too many times for your tolerance, Sunghoon’s face clearly showing just how much he was enjoying not being the cringiest person in the room for once.

Or, at least that was until an older fan requested that he and Sunoo sing and dance to the infamous aeygo Ottoke song for good luck at the show tomorrow.

“The things we do for engene,” the two boys collectively thought to themselves while fastening coquette bunny ears atop their heads, hoping that their enthusiasm would override the embarrassment.

It was all just such a culture shock for you and your group.

“Uhhh, a little help here?” Haerin worriedly called out to Jake as a particularly excited Korean fan approached her with a lot to say that she could barely understand.

“Oh- allow me,” Jake offered between the language barrier, translating to Haerin what the fan was trying to tell her.

“She thinks I’m a what now?”

“A K-pop Idol, mostly because of your trendy look today,” Jungwon giggled warmly, “the prophesied eighth member of Enhypen, in fact...”

Haerin laughed with both embarrassment and flattery, trying her best to explain to the young fan that she was a member of the Riot Grrlz and Riot Grrlz only.

Interactive activities continued just as well after this, the event nearing its end as you and Niki did a few TikTok dance challenges for the fans on stage.

Dance challenges that you had practiced with him in eery hours of the night, or whenever you two were left alone in the dance studio.

That, alongside other things too… like stealing sweet kisses here and there… or nearly melting while staring into each others love struck eyes—

“____, right?” A fan asked, approaching you with a blue marker and square of paper.

“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you,” you returned, keeping eye contact with her, despite the dark shades she wore.

“Nice to meet you, too! I have so many questions to ask you about what it’s like working with Enhypen!… and I really like your hair, too! The highlights look really nice with your outfit hehe… ALSO, I've been listening to a lot of your groups songs recently, and my favorite has to be the main track from your most recent album, it’s so unique!…” the fans voice eventually trailed off shyly.

“Oh my goodness, sorry for rambling!! Uhmmm, can I get your autograph by any chance?”

“Aww, thank you,” you smiled brightly, “and it’s okay! I find it cute how interested you are in my experience and music…”

Your hand reached out to grab the marker from her grasp, your body leaning forward slightly as you signed your name on the photo, resting your weight on the desk before you.

So lost in the moment, you didn’t even realize that the photo you had just signed was one of you and Niki hanging out just outside of Yeouido Park the other night.

It was impossible to hold back the gasp that escaped your throat at the realization, your finger loosing its grip around the marker as your stunned eyes met her knowing ones.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she chuckled in a facetiously sweet tone, you and her hands fighting over the now autographed-polaroid before your grip overthrew hers.

“Where did you get that—”

“Your secret’s safe with me, alright?” She interrupted with a sharp whisper, “So long as you work on distancing yourself from Niki moving forward…”

You blinked in feigned confusion at her words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re just colleagues—”

“And he’s an idol,” she cut in again, “idols don’t belong to silly American girls like you… you don’t even belong in our world…”

At this point, you're certain she could see how upset you were with her, and you didn't even care to hide it. “Everyone has welcomed me here, expect for you… and to what gain? I’m here with my band solely for work purposes, and I can assure you there is nothing you have to worry about concerning my professionalism.”

Your strong reply seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way, one of her hands fastening the bag over her shoulder while the other adjusted the glasses sitting at her nose.

“Thank you for your time,” she nearly growled at you, that same phony smile plastered to her lips before she hurriedly walked away, disappearing into the crowd of fans.

You let out a breath that you didn't even know you'd been holding, trying to calm yourself down before anyone noticed the silent commotion that had occurred on your side of the meeting booth.

All you could do was hope that this was the only copy or evidence of you and Niki hanging out that night as you folded the paper into a small square, tucking it under your sleeve in a way that no one would notice.

Above all though, you were just glad that the event was coming to an end soon, a few on-set staff members already helping to put away some stage props, meanwhile Sunoo, Heeseung, and Jade helped themselves to bringing along some gifts from fans.

“Hey... uhm, Heeseung? Can I-”

“Yes, Jade,” Heeseung answered with a giggle, “you can have all of my kitty plush gifts...”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The limo ride back to the HYBE building was quiet, the sole thought roaming in the back of your mind being that one fan's cruel words…

…𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥...

It wasn’t like you were trying to infiltrate the world of K-pop.

You and your group were simply expanding your collab horizons upon being invited, and it seriously boggled you how anyone would have a problem with that—

“Knock knock,” Niki said with a smile in his voice from behind the door to your private backstage dressing room, waiting for your cue that it was safe for him to come in.

“You can come in, Niki,” you replied softly, standing in front of the body length wall mirror while struggling to fix your hair into a suitable style for the stage practice in a few minutes.

“Hi,” you greeted again once he reached you, watching as his eyes traced your reflection, almost immediately picking up on your nervous demeanor.

“You did great today, ____, y’know that?” He started with a low voice, guiding your stressed hands away from your head and resting them at your sides.

“Niki, I have to get ready—”

“And you already look more than prepared,” he encouraged, securing his hands around your waist before leaving a kiss below your ear, “gorgeous, even...”

“Thanks,” you answered shyly, somehow already feeling a bit better about things now that he was near you.

“So. Are you gonna tell me what’s got you upset or are we gonna make this a guessing game?” He teased, making you chuckle a bit as his attempt to cheer you up.

Your eyes fell to the floor, his grip on you loosening as a little sigh escaped your freshly glossed lips.

“A fan…,” you began quietly, “at the meeting today… she asked me to sign this photo.”

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out the mysterious square photo and watched with a pout as Niki carefully unfolded it from each corner.

“I… I don’t understand…” he stuttered, eyes glazing over the sight of you and him holding hands at the firework show that night.

“I know, it’s my fault that—”

“No…,” he interrupted your words before meeting your guilt-ridden eyes, “I don’t understand why you’re letting this get to you…”

“Excuse me?” You asked with a confused expression, “if something like this gets out, it could ruin both of our careers, y’know?”

“Sure,” he responded nonchalantly with a shrug, “but I couldn’t care less about some jealous sasaeng’s creepy little photo fest… by now, it’s gonna take a lot more than an innocent, harmless photo of us hanging out to make me question our status in this field.”

“You never take anything seriously, Nishimura,” you smiled with a sigh, shaking your head as you watched his fingers tear the photo to pieces.

“Well you’re definitely an exception to that trait of mine,” he smirked, tucking the torn shreds of paper into his back pocket before finding your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss to your left cheek.

“How sweet of you to say,” you whispered softly, grabbing the neckline of his shirt and pulling him closer to your height, “now how about you kiss me properly this time?”

He hummed at your teasing tone, sharp features softening as he tilted his head, sealing the space between you and him with the sweet kiss you’d been waiting for.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” Niki sighed against your lips, his right hand removing the rubber band securing your ponytail so his fingers could roam freely through your curls.

Things were escalating pretty quickly now, both of your breaths sounding more labored with each second as you stumbled backwards onto the desk, his energy leading the kiss as he remained on top of you.

It was almost more than you could handle, his hands roaming at your sides before your eyes barely fluttered open, the sight of his slightly blushed button-nose making you feel like melting on the spot.

Thats when you realized his pink hue was a result of two reasons: (1) The way your hands shyly clung to his shoulders right now, and (2) the shadow of footsteps peeking behind your dressing room door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Miss ____, its Kim... Are you decent?”

“Erm, one second!” You responded in an obvious frantic.

Niki helped you get up from the vanity table, kneeling down quickly to hide himself under the it as the stern lady made her way into the room anyway.

“Sorry to intrude,” she began abruptly, not even taking note of your currently disheveled hair and flushed expression, “but I’ve unfortunately been appointed as the bearer of bad news for today…”

“Oh... uhm, w- what is it, is everyone alright?” You asked with a concerned tone, trying to take your mind off the fact that a Niki stained with the glimmer of your peach flavored lipgloss all over his mouth was literally under your desk right now, a mere two feet away from Miss Kim’s leather boots.

“For the most part, yes… but it concerns one of your band mates… Serenity, specifically… Since you are the leader of your group, I found it humble to have at least this much respect to tell you first in private.”

You let out a breath, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them back up, restoring your usually confident aura and making eye contact with the woman.

“Thank you, Miss Kim… I’m listening…”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The sounds of shoes rhythmically scuffing, mics going in and out of focus, and layered fits of heavy breathing filled your ears for the next two hours.

Design tech, stage directors, and performers alike were giving it their all to perfect things before the big show coming up.

You paced around the shiny stage, a sweat rag secured lazily around your neck as you and the Enhypen members just got through with rehearsing the main choreo at the performing arena for the first time.

Everyone except Jay and Jade that is, who were still busy with working on their guitar duet for the intro show backstage with the music writers.

“I have no idea how you can still see after being in front of these bright stage lights all the time,” you huffed out tiredly, glancing at Sunoo who only shrugged while taking a few gulps from his grey water bottle.

“I’m not too sure either, but for the lot of us, it’s just something you have to get used to,” he tried warmly before letting himself fall on the ground, limbs spread out like an exhausted snowman as sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Here, lemme show you a little trick I like to use,” Niki offered with a smile while approaching you from behind, his larger frame casting a shadow before you.

“Look down there,” he started, guiding your waist with one hand as he pointed ahead of you with the other, “do you see the tech crew down there?”

You looked to where his finger was pointing, eyes being met with the sight of workers who sat in reclining chairs while others drank some coffee, a few sporadic employees carrying clipboards with stacks of paper, giving out orders to their fellow floor members.

“Yeah, I see them,” you answered, making Niki laugh slightly for reasons you didn’t fully understand.

“That means you’re too close then,” he replied, still holding your waist as he guided you to take a few steps back, which ended up being more steps for you given the leg length differences.

“There’s a rule of thumb that if you can see the audience, they can’t see you… are the lights still bothering you now?”

“Not as much, actually,” you said, turning to face him as he still held you close, everything in your body fighting not to kiss him in this moment given the way he looked back at you, “thanks again…”

“Anytime,” he smirked smuggly, “but uhhh, I think people might be looking at us now—”

“Oh,” you giggled shyly, backing a few inches away from him.

“Ahem,” a nagging voice cleared from beside you two, breaking the wholesome presence of the moment.

“Do you guys think you’re invisible or something?” Serenity asked, crossing her arms while staring the both of you up.

“Uhm…. No?” Niki answered for you, furrowing his eyes at the blue-eyed diva.

“Then why’re you just standing there? You’re blocking my light…”

You let out a scoff at her words, feeling baffled at the thought of how insecure girls like her could have such egotistical tendencies.

“Sorry, Serenity…,” you said half-heartedly, “didn’t mean to disturb your… solo mid-break practice session...”

“Really appreciate it, leader lady,” she replied sarcastically, very intentionally bumping into your shoulder as she walked past you before stopping in her tracks, a loose copy of the stage schedule getting caught under her baby pink sneakers.

She leaned down to pick it up, examining the text before her eyes stumbled over a line of bolded words. All of this was for reasons she didn’t understand, but either way, would soon resent.

“Ugh?!!” She exclaimed with a confused scoff, “HYBE is kicking me from the show??”

Your eyes widened at her words, the furious, confused, and torn look on her face doing nothing but make Niki smirk to himself, “Serenity, I can explain—”

“And you knew about this, didn’t you?” She accused with balled fists, looking between your nervous face and Niki’s shamelessly proud one.

“I just found out today, okay? But Miss Kim specifically instructed me not to say anything about until she revealed it to you herself after practice,” you clarified with a shaky voice.

“Please,” she said with a scoff, “And what’s with the face, Nishimura Nimrod? Huh!? Your little girlfriend told you before she told me, her own band mat—”

“I didnt tell him anything!” You retorted with a slightly raised voice, cracking with nerves you couldn't keep buried anymore.

You never liked being in the hot seat unless you were sitting there with Niki, thanks to his ability to always maintain his cool under pressure...

However, for some reason, even with him next to you right now, you still felt like hurling yourself to the ground.

“You had to have told me him something, so just stop with your insistent lies, ____,” Serenity spat, poking a finger in the center of your chest. Hard.

“You couldn’t wait to get rid of me, its been all over your rotten little face ever since we got here… You’re so jealous of me and it’s honestly depressing at this point…”

Oh Serenity, you thought in your mind, if only you knew this was all brought on by yourself…

You’d had enough of her ignorant speech, holding a fierce eye contact with her while trying to conceal the tears forming behind your eyes.

The sadness growing in your heart…

“None of this was my decision, Ren, so if you have a bone to pick with someone, try taking it up with Miss Kim herself,” you said firmly, walking back a few steps in case she tried touching you again, “I'm sure she'd be more than happy to inform you on her reasons for exiling you from the main activities…”

“What’s going on you guys?” Haerin asked timidly in the midst of the chaos, having just come back from washing up in the restroom.

Serenity practically burned holes in your face with her venomous glare before turning sharply on her heel, footsteps loud and startling as she marched off the stage, murmuring a string of curses under her breath.

“Soooo,” Sunghoon started with a curious accent, “I’m usually not the best at comprehending things, but I’m assuming that whatever just happened was a lot more serious than the usual Riot Grrlz drama, correct?”

“Yeah, what's the big deal ____?,” Jade asked alongside Jake, who gave your shoulder a comforting shake.

You fought with everything in your body to not to let any tears fall...

Because in this moment, it just felt right to cry, but at the same time, was it really worth appearing weak in front of everyone?

Everyone who counted on you to remain strong?

You exhaled with a deep breath, wiping the pricks of moisture from your eyes before speaking, “Serenity won’t be performing with us for the special stage anymore… only the ending song.”

A cacophony of gasps filled the room at your words, Jungwon having picked up the loose schedule copy to analyze it for himself, the bolded words reading:

>> SERENITY TAYLOR Authorized to be PULLED from Furthering Her Performance Activities in Sight of Behavioral Decency Violations Under HYBE's Collaboration and Code of Conduct Standards

“Will she be allowed to attend the award show at least,” Heeseung inquired, not out of empathy, but curiosity as all of this was unfolding pretty fast.

“Perhaps, but for now, we can rest on the thought that we’ll have one less problem while preparing from here on out,” you answered, feeling a large hand take your hand in theirs before giving it a gentle squeeze.

Niki.

“Either way, the show must go on you guys,” he said with a deep voice, the faintest smile being on his face as he looked back at you, dark eyes sparkling with sincerity.

The stage lights flickered from ahead and above you, a key indicator that the radio would be picking up again soon, playing the instrumental to your practice track.

“Mic check everyone and it’s back to rehearsals in five,” yelled out a staff member from below the stage, the ten of you now lining up in formation while adjusting your headsets around your ears.

There was only one thought that remained in your head as the choreographer hopped up center stage to explain how the performance would accommodate for Serenity's sudden absence:

The show must go on.

🎙️For my baby, @microwvdstrawb3rri3s 💕 This is episode 3 for ya ~ Thanks for being so patient with me :3

⛦ TAGS: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikimeows @kimjiho1 @nikipedia07 @nishimuradaniel @ashgonedash @laurradoesloveu @caithefly @samhomo @rikikiynikilcykiki @3ngene--frvr @illymontyshit @filmofhybe @whoslug @nikiiitties

🎙️ Feel free to check out more fun reads on the pinned post at my home page ~

#niki fluff #niki x reader #niki scenarios #niki fanfic #niki imagines #niki soft hours #niki drabbles #enha niki #niki enhypen #enhypen #enhypen nishimura riki #niki ff #enhypen riki #nishimura riki #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen ff #nishimura riki x reader #riki fluff #idol au

[elbdot]

You know what? This year may have been THE most chaotic one yet in EVERY aspect of the word - but it surely was my most productive year as well! As many emotionally ups and downs as I had, as hard it was to distract yourself from the CHAOS of the world and the justified anger, fear and frustration of the people, I can still say that my year has been more positive than the ones before! I feel different - more like...myself. MORE me. Almost complete. And I have the strong desire to show more of myself out there, to be seen and recognized for what I do and who I am, I want my work to go OUT THERE, to make new friends and find new business partners so I can finally go ALL OUT and republish my books - and I did actually form new friendships this year, more in one year than I did in the past 6 years combined, it's incredible! I stepped out there and made new friends by not even particularly DOING anything - I was just me: A pure bug nerd walking with Maybugs and wild bees on my hands through the streets - that's how I met MULTIPLE people this year.

And I gave myself the space and time to flourish artistically in EVERY direction - From Fakemon Designs to animal studies, horse illustrations, realistic styles, comic styles, personal-, fan- and Pokemoncomics, traditional animation, puppet animation, Photography, SKITS on Youtube - EVERYTHING I wanted to do I DID and I am VERY PROUD that I was able to see through and finish almost everything I started this year or had begun to work on the year before!

There's so much I still want to do and I hope to achieve next year - when I hopefully am more in power again, when my body has recovered from its current whooping cough, when I can contact agencies again. And I really hope social media will become more kind to us artists again, when we currently have to struggle so much with algorithms who want us to be influencers and content machines to post daily. That's why I'm really grateful for my community here on tumblr and the fact that it is not being dictated by an unforgiving algorithm like twitter and Instagram is. On here you actually still have a chance to be seen.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your support this year! Especially those of you, who decided to join my community on Patreon and have become part of my Discord server. You guys have lifted my spirit in ways I couldn't describe and I'm so happy to have such a kind and incredibly generous community! Truly, thank you all so much for being here!

Onward to 2024, let's hope it will treat us all with gentleness and kindness 🥹🥰💖💕

Socials | Patreon

#art #artists on tumblr #art vs artist #happy new year #illustration #digital art #pokemon #fantasy #horses #fakemon #comics

[moonit3]

୨⎯ "MISS POPULAR AND MISS NOBODY" ⎯୧

➽ context warnings: yandere female, wlw!, afab! reader, nsfw, reader encourages the yandere behavior, mentioned murder, masturbation (f!), fingering, mentioned stalking, breaking in, yandere stealing personal items from reader,

➽ word count: more than 2.5k

➽ synopsis: a lost sketchbook brings the two most unexpected people into a unexpected relationship.

➽ yandere! loser girl x popular! reader

➽ a/n: sorry for the long wanting, guys. there were a few problems with my college’s website and I almost lost my spot (but luckily i managed to fix it) and also, got a little depressed with penacony (T-T). but here is another collab with @taeee0902 that I really happy to have written it! however, I changed a few things close to the ending since i felt if I wrote more, things would’ve taken a wrong lead (leaving an open ending(?)) and also, i got lazy (sorry for that). but i hope u guys enjoy it! also tell me if there is any mistake as i wrote this in middle of the night.

➽ inside the library, at the one of the darkest corners of the old building, there is a young woman studying on her art. mumbling to herself about putting extra details on it as she struggles to find more ideas to finish her work before the deadline next week. her eyes couldn’t help but start getting tired after she spend an amount of her money on buying energy drinks to keep herself awake for the rest of the day.

➽ a place like the library was supposed to be quiet, somewhere safe to the rest of the loud and rude students go the campus, but not today. it’s seems those popular kids decided to come over and ruin her peace in less thanks five minutes. however her attention towards the art project got better after buying a large cup of coffee, so daisy pay no mind towards those idiots.

➽ the group of popular kids whisper to each other about the weird girl sitting by herself, saying nasty things about her looks and dark circles under her eyes, already imagining how her dormitory might look like full of dirty and smelly. all of them laughing and smiling about daisy, but not you, instead of making fun of her like anyone else wouldn’t do, you just watch the girl working on something behind the piles of books at the table. she looks kinda cute when focusing, with her tongue out of her mouth and the headphones covering her ears to prevent hearing from hearing anyone talking about her looks.

➽ it’s clear there is something on daisy that calls you, she makes you feel weird feelings that you never felt before with anyone else. the voices of your so called friends become muffled inside your head, now you could only hear the faint song coming out of her headphones, making you wonder about the taste in music she has. maybe she enjoy classic music? probably electronic or perhaps a genre that you don’t know the existence of?

➽ your eyes couldn’t move away from her, not when her body keeps moving in rhythm with the songs playing in her headphones as she works at her personal works. your mind keeps telling to step up and talk with her about anything, however you couldn’t, not when your own body isn’t obeying your orders. after hours and hours on her own little world, she packed her things to leave the library and return to her dormitory.

➽ however, she forget a small notebook at the table and when your friends leave to go to a party, you didn’t hesitate to take and put it inside your backpack before finally returning back to the sorority house and preparing yourself to go to bed after a long day of studying. however that didn’t happened.

➽ your fingers traced on the lineart on the cover. it’s feel wrong to see a piece of art without the artist’s permission, but you needed to find a way to contact the owner and luckily, you find something. a phone number and quickly, you called the mysterious girl to ask if tomorrow would be a perfect timing to give her sketchbook back…and as expected, she agreed to meet you up at the library, at the same spot she forget the sketchbook.

➽ when tomorrow arrived, daisy couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed about this whole encounter. sitting an empty bench, her mind is playing tricks on her about the person might never appear and keep her precious sketchbook to themselves—then a more rational part of the mind forces her to calm down, taking deep breaths before opening her eyes to see a figure standing in front of her.

➽ the smell of sweet perfume and the aura of an angel makes daisy realize the person who has her book is no other than mrs. popular girl, the girl who everyone wants to be and the person who everyone wants to kiss. oh no, she can already imagine the ill words you are going to say at her art and so, daisy prepares herself to be massacred by you….but you don’t.

➽ instead, words of kindness came out from your lips. you explained that you’ve taken a look inside her art—feeling guilty of such act, but at the same time, proud that you have found a great artist like her. “i never thought that ive found someone who uses acrylic markers so well as you! and the way you used post-it to cover up some mistakes is your signature? ahhh…is that how people call it?”

➽ every word coming out of your lips makes daisy feel special, for the first time since she remembers, someone has not only treat her art normally (without making fun of it) and for the first time ever, a person haven’t downgraded her as a lower level. she won’t admit, but it’s really cute seeing your cheeks blush when trying to find unique words to describe some of the art inside the sketchbook.

➽ clap! she closes the notebook to look up at your face, lips fully closed and staring down at her pale skin now red of embarrassment. “t-thank you, [name].” damn it! she wasn’t supposed to stutter in front of you. “and there is no problem that you’ve look into my sketchbook. but i need to go, bye!” without hesitating, daisy made her escape and left you standing you at the park. thinking about the unusual nature of daisy.

it’s been days since daisy has met you and still, she wasn’t able to forget about your lovely smile. her mind couldn’t forget the faint feeling of obsession passion growing inside her heart, making her cheeks red of only thinking about your presence.

the pages of the sketchbook are full of art of your face, smiling directly at the artist. post-it covers some more explicit drawing of your body, all filled of bites, scratches and of course, positions of your body in situations she would never speak out loud. it’s wrong to draw someone like this, she knows. however, as much daisy keeps telling herself to stop, she can only continues to draw more of your body like this, imagining what you looks underneath those fancy outfits.

“i’m sorry,” she said to herself, pulling her panty to the side, already touching her clit while thinking about you. “i-i’m sorry, [name]…” the newly feeling of wetness around her genitalia made easy to slick a finger inside, sensing the warmth of her inner walls.

she can’t put more than one finger without tearing the hymen, but it’s already enough to pleasure herself by it. “hmm-“ the juice leaking allows daisy part her clit apart to take a better look of her pussy when staring at the mirror, admiring the juice leaking from it. “[n-name]!”

daisy can already imagine it. having you above her body and giving orders for what to do to make you happy. her mind playing tricks on her whatever her finger reach a new spot to touch, making the whole body curves with moan and whines escaping from the lips.

it’s didn’t took much time for her orgasm to come, leaving fluids on her finger and wetting the white sheets of the bed. her breath is completely gone when laying down at the bed, not wanting to get up and look at herself at the mirror, but something more strong makes her gain enough stronger to walk towards the mirror.

a disheveled hair covering one of her eyes, cheeks completely red and of course, thighs dirty of her cum that haven’t stop dripping from her clit. never in millions years, daisy believed that she would touch herself in an intimate manner like this, specially towards another girl…but now, daisy knows she is capable of doing anything towards [name].

things aren’t going easy to you, not when the most comfortable hoodie of your has gone missing! how are you supposed to rest after a long day of study without wearing your most precious piece of clothing? you even placed it above behind the door to not forget.

“have you searched everywhere?” one of your friends would asked, worried about the smile missing from your face.

“of course i did! i looked everywhere, even under my bed!” you cried, sad that you’ve now to wear some of the guy’s hoodie in a failed attempt to comfort you. “how am i going to sleep in peace? I can’t buy another hoodie, not when that one have so memories of good times.”

your friends stayed quiet, feeling bad when they have no solutions to your problem. all of them thought for a while, wondering if there is a way to solve the mystery.

“wait! what if you are sleeping walking?” one of the girl suggested, bringing everyone’s attention towards her. “your sleeping form probably hide your hoodie someway you can’t find while awake. so why not set your webcam on to caught you?”

the idea was great, but not their suggestion to your sleepwalking. after classes, you set up the webcam camera to let you catch whoever is behind the missing hoodies (and panties, but you omitted this part from them) and now, you’ve just to wait for the mystery person to show up when you went to attend classes.

with you attending classes for the rest of the day, daisy waste no time to raid inside your apartment by the window. her eyes grown bigger when seeing another hoodie with your scent just laying on the bed.

jumping into the mattress, daisy couldn’t resist the smell of your perfume all over the sheets and so, she began sniffing it and moaning your name while hugging one of your pillows, clearing imaging that is you instead of the fluffy pillow.

“[name]…” your scent never leaves her nostrils, not with her body almost melting into your sheets to become one within it. “you change your perfume, didn’t you? now, you smell even more perfect. just like flower in the middle of the springs.”

she wishes to stay inside your apartment forever, watch your life while hiding inside the wardrobe to protect you from the dangerous people who dare to touch you inappropriately. but, she can’t do that. daisy has the goal of graduating, becoming a famous artist to be the breadwinner when she marries you in a soon future.

feeling her body gain extra energy, daisy leaves your bedroom by the window, but not before grabbing a few personal items to her shrine. completely unaware that her actions were recorded by her own object of obsession.

when you return home after a long day of studying, you become surprised to see daisy roaming all over your room. seeing her stealing the dirty underwear from the laundry basket and even laying down at your bed! oh, is that weird?

yes, but your heart speaks otherwise. watching the recording of the loner girl invading your privacy to her own likes and doing all of her perverts acts makes you feel good, something that you never felt to someone else.

she is so pretty when sniffing your belongings! anyone else would find it weird to see someone doing that, but not you—you find daisy quite cute doing it when thing no one is watching… perhaps, will she go even further if you let her steal more of your stuff? you hope so.

since that day, you began leaving the bedroom messier than before. clothes scented by your usual smell are long gone from the wardrobe, the newly used toys that you’ve brought to tease yourself after classes go missing too. you can only imagine what daisy is doing with those presents you have left behind.

➽ with the exams and classes over, a beach party is thrown to celebrate the end of the semester and of course, you were invited and daisy waste no time to followed you around the party, hiding in the shadows to protect you from anyone who dares to hurt you. the black haired girl doesn’t know that you are aware of her presence, making things even more interesting.

➽ daisy admirers your body dancing in the middle of the room, but at the same time, feeling guilty to be looking at you with lust just like the others. deep down, she knows that she is no different from those who dares to look at you like you are some prey to be tasted, however, daisy isn’t the type to let it go of you so easily.

➽ after dancing for a long time, you decided to rest at one of the rooms upstairs and daisy waste no time by following you. inside of the suite, daisy enters the room in silence and scan the interior, simultaneously looking for a place to hide and your whereabouts. despite her eyes looking at each corner, the black haired girl doesn’t can’t find you anywhere. did she imagined you walking here?

➽ before any reaction could take place, daisy found herself ensnared in surprise, arms wrapping around her small body, putting her into an embrace. cheeks fully red when she realize that it’s you who is holding her, feeling your breath behind her neck. is this really happening? this can’t be a dream, daisy is praying for this to be real.

➽ “daisy, daisy, daisy…” she let her guard down, letting you freely take advantage of the situation to hug her body. “i never expected to see you around here. but, i can’t deny that i am really happy to see you here.”

➽ she doesn’t move. her body stay in place when feeling your hands getting down at her black shorts, untying it to let your hand roam free around inside her panty. it’s makes her body squeal when a finger touch the tip of her clitoris, making her almost melt with it.

➽ “hmm—“ before any of her moans could take over the room, your lips meet hers, dragging her into daisy’s first kiss. it’s feel weird, she thinks, but at the same time…it’s better than she ever imagined! she lets you take control over her body, knowing that you have more knowledge than her.

➽ daisy could feel her body get redder and hotter by the instant you push her to the bed, wasting no time to unbutton the plaid shirt to display the cute black bikini and then to remove her bikini bottoms to take a closer look at her cunt. the night haven’t start and she is already dripping.

➽ a smile slowly make to your lips. to think that daisy was probably so overwhelmed by this situation makes you wonder about how aroused she is. “don’t worry, sweetie.” your finger touches her clit, rubbing it against her walls, but not taking too deep to hurt her. “i’m going to be gentle, okay?”

➽ she nodded. “j-just touch me, please—” there is tears coming out of her eyes when a finger of yours manage to touch a soft spot of her inner walls, words are replaced by whimpers. as you continue to pump your two fingers inside her, daisy couldn’t hold her voice back. it didn’t took much to her moans to echoed all over the room and would probably reach downstairs too if the songs aren’t that loud.

➽ a high pitched scream warned about her incoming orgasm. her cum all over your palm when she finally stops squirting, attempting to regain her breath, cheeks full of redness as she musters enough courage to lift her face and meet yours.

➽ her trembling hands move to hold your hips closer to hers, not leaving a space between your bodies when daisy managed to speak. “can w-we continue it? please, i really need you.” the shyness and embarrassment of her face is gone, replaced by obsession and desire. and you are loving it.

➽ you couldn’t be happier seeing daisy right below your body, ready to take anything you have been planning for the past couple of weeks, even if those things could lead to dangerous acts. she is right inside your palm, ready to be played and loved by you only.

➽ “really?” your hips began to move, dirtying your bottoms with daisy’s fluids and making her whine a bit. “if that’s what you want~” playing with her perky chest, a smile make it way to your lips when going down to her lips, leaving a fainted mark of lipstick on her. “then i will make it an unforgettable night for you, daisy.”

@moonit3 writing

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere writing #yandere female #yandere girl #yandere x female reader #yandere female x female reader #yandere wlw #yandere headcanon #yandere headcanons #yandere x female y/n #x female y/n #x female reader #female reader #my oc daisy #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

[kenziesimsblog]

SIMS 3 HIGH SCHOOL STEROTYPE LEGACY

hi guys! I decided to make my very own legacy for sims 3! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

some traits are repeated because they fit!

GEN 1-EMO

you never really fit in when you lived in your small town so as soon as you became a young adult you moved to the bustling city where you began a new alternative band.

traits - over-emotional, loner, virtuous, shy, and night owl

lifetime wish-rock star

career- music

requirements

must fall in love with another emo. -must name kids after alternative band members / singers, albums or songs.

must have fun colored hair. -must have piercing (s)

dye hair at least 3 times during each life stage

must complete lifetime wish.

master guitar skill

start a band. -must be close to bandmates

perform every or most gig you get. -reach level 5 celeb status

GEN 2-POPULAR

you are the exact opposite of your parent but hey when you're the kid of a famous band member you're bound to be popular.

traits- diva, irresistible, social butterfly, party animal, and flirty

lifetime wish- super popular..

career-any

requirements must have 2 best friends. choose either being a mean popular or a nice one. throw tons of parties be in at least 3 relationships before finding the one. marry the nerdiest person. master the charisma skill. don't lose any friends. chat with friends at least once week have at least 1 boy and 1 girl

GEN 3-NERD

your parent always taught you to be yourself and to show how smart you are!

traits - genius, bookworm, socially awkward, eccentric, and loser

lifetime wish- perfect student

career- scientist requirements always have an "A" in school go to university. earn your degree with a perfect GPA. earn a scholarship. be a strict parent. if kid has lower than a yell at them meet your partner in university. make kids have daily chores. make kids have curfew of 7. master logic skill master inventor skill

GEN 4- THE CLASS CLOWN

your parent was super strict and you vowed to never be like them

traits good sense of humor, rebellious, easily impressed, inappropriate,and friendly.

lifetime wish- distinguished director.

career- director

requirements have a bad relationship with your parents. have a "D" in school. always pull pranks on school and home become a director for comedies (pretend) master street art skill have at least 1 girl steal partner from someone else

GEN 5- HORSE GIRL

horses, horses, horses that's all you talk about traits - equestrian, loves the outdoors, ambitious, athletic ,and lucky

lifetime wish- the jockey

career- none all your time is spent with horses

requirements have a horse as a child. must be female. have at least 2 horses ride them every day. marry a cowboy/cowgirl. enter racing. live in a farmhouse. master riding skill have 1 kid that you have a bad relationship with.

GEN 6-BULLY

your mom only paid attention to her horses and not you resulting in a bully

traits- evil, mean spirited , grumpy, brooding, and coward

lifetime wish- ceo of mega corporation

career - business requirements be hated by everyone. have one "friend" that is a sidekick. get pregnant or impregnate a one-night stand. have baby in your household. co parent with one night stand even though you hate it. marry one night stand at middle/end of adult life. have one more child/ or multiples before you reach elder status. at least perform two mean actions a day

GEN 7- GAMER

your parents didnt care what you did they spent to much time hating each other so what better way to distract your self then video games

traits- couch potato, computer whiz, heavy sleeper, night owl and loner

lifetime wish- blog artist

career - video game developer

requirements attend university to master nerd social group. drop out when maxed nerd group. marry college sweetheart. cheat on college sweetheart with person you met online. have one kid with college sweetheart.

have more with new partner play video games every day. run a blog about games. master logic skill

GEN 8- THEATER KID

you spent all of your childhood watching plays dreaming one day it would be you

traits- star quality, natural born performer , hopeless romantic , dramatic, and ambitious

lifetime wish- superstar actor.

career- actor

requirements name kids after real life actors woohoo 5 celebs. complete lifetime wish. get pregnant by 3 different celebs. have at least 3 kids have a bad reputation. ruin your reputation at least once. never get married. spoil your kids.

GEN 9- JOCK

you lived in a booming town with a big gym where you spent most of your time

traits- handy, athletic, vegetarian, green thumb, and daredevil

lifetime wish- become a superstar athlete.

career- athletic

requirements master lifetime wish. be a vegetarian. have a garden of healthy vegetables. workout everyday max gardening skill max handy skill max athletic skill meet partner at gym. have a big family (4 kids)

GEN 10-ARTSY

traits- artistic, avant garde, adventurous, perfectionist, virtuoso

lifetime wish-master of arts

career- self employed artist

requirements master guitar skill master painting skill travel to different countries for inspiration meet partner in another country. perform for tips. sell paintings. at least always have one animal in house house is very colorful. do photography on the side. master lifetime wish. go out with family every holiday.

be sure to tag me in posts if you decide to play!

#sims 3 blog #ts3cc #sims 3 gameplay #sims 3 screenshots #simblr #sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 cc #sims 3 legacy #sims 3 lepacy challenge #sims 3 legacy challenge #ts3 challenge #sims 3 challenge #ts3 challenges #sims 3 challenges

[gardenschedule]

What Happened In India?

(or around that time...)

Before

Shortly before we were due to leave for India John spent the weekend with Derek Taylor, a former journalist who had become the Beatles' press spokesman and a good friend to us all. He, his wife Joan and their five children lived in a big country house where they seemed incredibly contented. When he came home after that weekend John put his arms around me and said, 'Let's have loads more kids, Cyn, and be really happy' Despite my increasingly strong feeling that John was slipping away from me, it seemed at moments like that as though nothing had changed. John was off drugs and seemed almost like his old self. 'We can make it work, Cyn,' he said. 'When we're in India we'll have time for us and everything will be fine.' I hoped he was right.

John (Cynthia Lennon)

Cyn hoped that Rishikesh would afford seclusion, privacy and an opportunity for her and John to rediscover each other and to revive their marriage. ‘Impossible hopes,’ she said sadly. ‘John said to me just before we went to India that he wanted us to have more children. Well that came out of the blue, I can tell you. I was really surprised, as he’d never said a word about that before.

Lesley-Ann Jones - The Search for John Lennon

Cynthia: “It was a time for us all to drop out for a while. The years of fame and fortune had taken their toll on our nerves and minds. John and I both felt closer. There seemed to be a greater possibility of our finding a solution to personal difficulties. If our trip to India wasn’t going to solve our emotional problems, then nothing would.”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

That letter made it crystal clear that they [John and Yoko] had been in contact. How well had they got to know one another? I tackled John, who told me she'd written many times, both letters and cards, but said, 'She's crackers, just a weirdo artist who wants me to sponsor her. Another nutter wanting money for all that avant-garde bullshit. It's not important.' I had no way of knowing whether he was telling me the truth. He sounded genuine, but a sixth sense told me there was more to this than he was admitting. I tried to put it to the back of my mind. We were going to India, and I wanted that to be a special time for us.

John (Cynthia Lennon)

John panicked at the accumulating threats from the Princess of Darkness. That was when he decided to go to India with Cynthia to put some distance between himself and Yoko. If he stayed away long enough, he could hope Yoko would just go away. Maybe she’d go back to America, or vanish in a puff of smoke. Her scissors act might go horribly wrong, or while she was bagged up one day the Royal Mail might frank the bag and deliver it to anywhere but India. Yes, a long trip to the ashram, where he could meditate and learn how to be calm and in control, give up drugs and spend romantic moments with Cynthia and glue his crumbling marriage back together, seemed opportune.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

“I don’t like the unhappiness she [Yoko] caused. She was horrible. John wanted to avoid her at first. He said, ‘Get rid of the bloody woman!’ But after India, he saw her differently — perhaps filtered through an exotic mindset.”

Tony Bramwell - the band’s ex-road manager

During

“The pressure of being the Beatles had driven a wedge between them individually and that had all percolated in the months leading up to their visit to Rishikesh,” he said. “Once they got there, and they unburdened themselves from all of that, they reconnected with their songwriting and their creativity. It just flowed forth.”

Bob Spitz to the New York Times

 “I was in a room for five days meditating,” said Lennon in The Beatles Anthology. “I wrote hundreds of songs. I couldn’t sleep and I was hallucinating like crazy, having dreams where you could smell. I’d do a few hours and they you’d trip off, three- or four-hour stretches. It was just a way of getting there, and you could go on amazing trips.” Cynthia Lennon said in Bob Spitz’s book The Beatles that for John, nothing else mattered when it came to mediation, adding “John and George were [finally] in their element [at the ashram]. They threw themselves totally into the Maharishi’s teachings, were happy, relaxed and above all found a piece of mind that had been denied them for so long.”

The Beatles in India: 16 Things You Didn’t Know

I was right in the Maharishi’s camp writing “I wanna die” you know. I’m So Tired and Yer Blues where they were pretty sort of realistic, you know, they were about me

Lennon Remembers

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da was born on the steps of one of the low slung cottages where the entourage lived. One day, remembers Saltzman, he was passing by the cottage when he saw Lennon and McCartney sitting on the front steps and strumming the tune on their acoustic guitars. He ran back, picked up the camera and took pictures of the two with a pensive-looking Starr sitting on the side, from outside a wicket gate. Saltzman remembers the two were singing the first two lines of the song "over and over again, going fast and slow, having fun". "That's the riff we have," McCartney told Saltzman, "but no words yet".

filmmaker Paul Saltzman

Jenny Boyd, Patti’s sister “I sat with John a lot, since he didn’t feel well, either from terrible jet lag, and insomnia. He would stay up late; unable to sleep, and write the songs that would later appear on The Beatles’ White Album. When I was at my lowest, he made a drawing of a turbaned Sikh genie holding a big snake and intoning, ‘By the power within, and the power without, I cast your tonsil lighthouse out!’ Sometimes, late at night, I can still hear John singing those sad songs he wrote during those evenings, like ‘I’m So Tired.’”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

John “I went to the Maharishi and, regardless of what I was supposed to be doing, I did write some of my best songs while I was there. It was a nice scene. Nice and secure and everybody was always smiling. The experience was worth it if only for the songs that came out. It could have been the desert or Ben Nevis. The funny thing about the Maharishi camp was that, although it was very beautiful and I was meditating about eight hours a day, I was writing the most miserable songs on earth, like ‘I’m So Tired’ and ‘Yer Blues.’”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

Meanwhile, I was not having the second honeymoon I'd hoped for. John was becoming increasingly cold and aloof towards me. He would get up early and leave our room. He spoke to me very little, and after a week or two he announced that he wanted to move into a separate room to give himself more space. From then on he virtually ignored me, both in private and in public. If the others noticed they didn't say so. I did my best to understand, begging him to explain what was wrong. He fobbed me off, telling me that it was just the effect of the meditation. 'I can't feel normal doing all this stuff,' He said. 'I'm trying to get myself together. It's nothing to do with you. Give me a break.' What I didn't know was that each morning he rushed down to the post office to see if he had a letter from Yoko. She was writing to him almost daily. When I learnt this later I felt very hurt.

John (Cynthia Lennon)

And because the Beatles didn’t know anything about ashrams and they haven’t seen anything before because they went for Maharishi, not for the ashram. Maharishi didn’t allow men to stay with their wives. John was delighted with the idea. He loved it, actually. I think it made Cynthia very unhappy. She wanted to stay with John, everybody had his own problems. My great interest was with John. I was very happy because I found John much healthier. The color in his face was different and he was happier and he took the whole thing very seriously, and he was trying hard and he was so excited when I arrived because perhaps I was part of the reason he was there.

Magic Alex in All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

We all went through a depression after Maharishi and Brian died; it wasn’t really to do with Maharishi, it was just that period. I was really going through the “What’s it all about?” type thing – this songwriting is nothing, it’s pointless, and I’m no good, I’m not talented, and I’m shitty, and I couldn’t do anything but be a Beatle. What am I going to do about it? It lasted nearly two years and I was still in it during Pepper. I know Paul wasn’t at the time; he was feeling full of confidence, and I was going through murder during those periods. I was just about coming out of it around Maharishi, even though Brian had died – that knocked us back again. Well, it knocked me back.

John Lennon, interview w/ Barry Miles, (partially) unpublished. (September 23rd, 1969)

By spending two months in deep meditation in India, John brought his deepest problems to the surface but he was unable to resolve them: the contradiction between his family life and his life as a rock star with all the drugs and groupies was too great. Had he stayed with the Maharishi until the end of the course, he might have avoided some of the pain, but by terminating the instruction abruptly, he was left hanging in thin air. During the weeks at the camp, he had been receiving daily letters from Yoko, though nothing sexual had yet happened between them. He was very attracted by her but he felt tremendous guilt about breaking up his marriage: doing to Julian what his own parents had done to him, repeating the pattern.

Many Years From Now - Barry Miles

He [Mick Jagger] told me with amusement that the real reason why the Beatles left the Maharishi was that he made a pass at one of them: “They’re simple north-country lads; they’re terribly uptight about all that.” Am still not sure if I believe this story.

“The Sixties,” the second volume of Christopher Isherwood’s diaries

After

And I was slowly putting myself together after Maharishi, bit by bit over a two year period. I destroyed me ego and I didn’t believe I could do anything. I let Paul do what he want and say, them all of them do what they want, I was just nothing, I was shit. And then Derek tripped me out at his house after he got back from LA, and he sort of said you’re all right and pointed out which songs I’d written, and ‘you wrote this and you said this, you are intelligent, don’t be frightened’. And then next week I went down with Yoko and tripped out again and she filled me completely to realize I was me and it was alright.

Lennon Remembers

So much had changed since I’d last seen the Beatles just a few months previously. They had come back from their trip to India completely different people. They had once been fastidious and fashionable; now they were scruffy and unkempt. They had once been witty and full of humor; now they were solemn and prickly. They had once been bonded together as lifelong friends; now they resented one another’s company. They had once been lighthearted and fun to be around. Now they were angry.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

The rage that was bubbling inside John was the most obvious sign that something was seriously wrong. There was new tension between John and Paul, and even between John and Ringo, in addition to the often strained relationship that Paul had with George and the resentment that Ringo sometimes exhibited when Paul coached him too much on drum parts. In fact, the only two Beatles who seemed to get along during the White Album sessions were John and George. Perhaps that came from the experience they had shared at the ashram—after all, they were the two who had stuck it out, staying on long after Ringo and Paul had gone back home. Maybe they felt deserted by their bandmates, or betrayed. The undercurrents between the four Beatles were so complex at that point, it gave me a headache just thinking about it.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

Our first night back in the studio began, as usual, with small talk and catching up. “So how was India?” I asked. “India was okay, I guess… apart from that nasty little Maharishi,” John replied, venomously. Harrison looked deflated, as if it were a conversation they’d had many times before. With a deep sigh, he tried to calm his agitated bandmate. “Oh come on, he wasn’t that bad,” he interjected, earning a withering glance. Lennon’s bitterness and anger seemed almost palpable. Ringo tried deflecting things with a little humor. “It reminded me of a Butlins holiday camp, only the bloody food wasn’t as good,” he said with a wink. I glanced in Paul’s direction. He was staring straight ahead, expressionless and weary. He didn’t have much to say about India that day, or any other. I sensed at that moment that something fundamental in them had changed. They were searching for something, but they didn’t know quite what it was; they had journeyed to India looking for answers, and they were disappointed that they hadn’t found them there… but it seemed to me that they didn’t even know the questions.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

“By all accounts, John had hit an all-time low [after India]. “John was in a rage because God had forsaken him,” George recalled. “Then he went and completely reversed himself. He turned from being positive to being totally negative.” According to Pete Shotton, who was spending time with John at Weybridge, there was an overriding feeling of humiliation—from the Maharishi, from the Apple Boutique shambles, from his deteriorating marriage, from what he felt was his shrinking position in the Beatles. “He was more fucked up than I’d even seen him,” Shotton remembers. “It seemed like everything was going to the dogs. He’d been desperately grasping [at] straws, as far as I was concerned, and there wasn’t even a straw there.”

the beatles: the biography, bob spitz

JOHN: How can two women split up four strong men? It’s impossible. You know, The Beatles were disintegrating slowly after Brian Epstein died, it was a slow death, and it was happening. It was evident in Let It Be – uh, although Linda and Yoko were evident then, but they weren’t when it started, I don’t think. It was evident in – in India, when George and I stayed there and Paul and Ringo left.

October, 1971 (St Regis Hotel, New York)

There was little need for me to repeat my instructions. As soon as we got there, it was obvious that things were not hunky-dory with the Beatles. Their recent month-long meditation retreat with the Maharishi didn’t seem to have helped their relationships very much, and the estrangement was definitely having an effect on their work. I don’t think any actual recording got done that night. Paul, George and Ringo were rehearsing some new songs, trying different ways of playing and singing them. Meanwhile, John spent most of his time sitting on the floor next to Yoko, chatting privately with her as she stroked his hair. He seemed no more involved in the proceedings than me and Lawrence, who watched the uncomfortable tension building from the other side of the studio. “Hey John.” Paul turned around to face him at one point. “Are you in this band or what?”

Leslie Cavendish, The Cutting Edge: The Story of the Beatles’ Hairdresser Who Defined an Era

Back at Kenwood John continued to be distant towards me. Now that we were away from the others and the charms of India, I felt increasingly afraid and depressed. John and I were back in the same bed, but the warmth and passion we had shared for so long were absent. John seemed barely to notice me. He was little better with Julian and was more likely to snap at him than give him a hug. There was just one moment of real warmth between us and that was, ironically, when John confessed to me that he had been unfaithful. We were in the kitchen when he said, out of the blue, 'There have been other women, you know, Cyn.'

John (Cynthia Lennon)

On the flight back from India, he had gotten very drunk and, for some reason, decided to confess all his affairs to Cynthia. Brutally, he ticked off a very long list, which included groupies, models, prostitutes, the wives and girlfriends of his and Cynthia’s friends and, possibly cruelest of all, Cynthia’s own girlfriends. Cynthia felt totally betrayed.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

The shattering of his faith in the Maharishi, meanwhile, had left John spiritually adrift once more; his instinctive response was to return with a vengeance to his former drug habits. (Like the other Beatles, John had totally abstained from alcohol and drugs while in India.) In retrospect, it's easy to see how wide open John was, at this particular juncture, to anything—or anybody—that might conceivably lift him out of his rut.

The Beatles, Lennon, and me - Pete Shotton

PAUL: I gave myself a set period, and then if it was gonna be something we really had to go back for, I was thinking of going back. But at the end of my month I was quite happy and I thought… this’ll do me. This is fine. If I want to get into it heavy, I can do it anywhere. That’s one of the nice things about it, you don’t have to go to church to do it, you can do it in your own room. So I was quite happy.

RINGO: I left just a little disillusioned, and John was a little disillusioned when he came back, and Paul was. [pause] George just loved it.

1993 rough cut of the Anthology series

Although Paul was the first to leave [India] disillusioned, John left in the mind of, ‘OK, well, we tried, we surrendered to God but it wasn’t God, it was Maharishi and this God thing is proving itself to be a total fallacy’ - and then went back to being The Beatles.

I left Rishikesh with John. Alex [Madras] had been the naughty boy who’d stirred everything up. John went in a rage because God had forsaken him (although it was nothing to do with God, really). Then he went and completely reversed himself. He turned from being positive to being totally negative.

I went to South India […] and everything that happened to me went wrong to the point that I felt, like John and Alex, that the Maharishi had put the heeby-jeebies in me.

George Harrison, c/o Derek Taylor, Fifty Years Adrift. (1984)

JOHN: I’ve got no regrets at all, ‘cause it was a groove and I had some great experiences meditating eight hours a day—some amazing things, some amazing trips— it was great. And I still meditate off and on. George is doing it regularly. And I believe implicitly in the whole bit. It’s just that it’s difficult to continue it. I lost the rosy glasses. And I’m like that. I’m very idealistic. So I can’t really manage my exercises when I’ve lost that. I mean, I don’t want to be a boxer so much. It’s just that a few things happened, or didn’t happen. I don’t know, but something happened. It was sort of like a click and we just left and I don’t know what went on. It’s too near—I don’t really know what happened.

John Lennon, interview w/ Jonathan Cott for Rolling Stone: The first Rolling Stone interview. (November 23rd, 1968)

Cynthia Lennon “John had taken acid once more and enthused, ‘Cyn, it was great. Christ Cyn, we’ve got to have lots more children. We’ve got to have a big family around us.’ At this point, I burst into tears … All I could blurt out was that, in no way, could I see us as he did. I was so disturbed by John’s outburst, that I even suggested that Yoko Ono was the woman for him. John protested at my crazy suggestion and suggested that I was being ridiculous. Although life went on as usual, my fears grew and I felt nervous and depressed. John was aware of my depression and suggested that, as he had to work for long hours in the recording studios for a few weeks, I should accompany Jenny, Donovan, Gyspy and Alexis on a holiday to Greece. The very thought of sun and sea really brightened my outlook.”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

During the spring of 1968, John was as confused, lonely, and unhappy as I'd seen him in years. Though his relationship with the other Beatles was still free of serious strain, he was seeing increasingly less of Paul and George, both of whom were now pursuing independent lives and interests of their own.

In My Life, Pete Shotton

The resentment might have been coming from a different place. With his marital problems still unsettled and Cynthia gallivanting around Greece, drugs continued to govern John’s fitful moods. He dosed himself continuously with LSD, tweaking its random effect with any spare pills he happened to find lying around the house. In the right company, it plunged John into a deep, unfathomable trance that altered between indecipherable rambling and deadpan silences. At Weybridge, into which Pete Shotton had moved in order to keep his friend company, he stayed up nights, tripping and battling wave after wave of incendiary rage. One night, after the usual snack of hallucinogens, Shotton says he noticed John moving his arms around very slowly in a circle. “I said, ‘What are you doing?’ ” recalls Pete, “but John couldn’t explain it. He said, ‘I can’t stop. There’s something making me do this. I can’t help myself.’ ” Tears followed, uncontrollable rivers of tears, intermingled with hideous laughter. When Shotton tried to comfort him, John resisted. “I’m not crying,” he insisted peevishly, wiping his eyes with the back of a hand. Suddenly John declared that he was Jesus Christ, back from the grave. “He was convinced of it,” Pete recalls, “saying… ‘This is it, at last—I know who I am.’ ” The next day the Messiah convened an emergency meeting at Apple to announce his identity to the other Beatles. Unimpressed, they said: “Yeah, all right then. What shall we do now?” After someone suggested lunch, the matter was dropped.

That night at Weybridge, in the middle of another drug-induced reverie, the TV flickered off, whereupon John, already chastened and in a self-abasing mood, asked Pete if it was okay if he invited a woman to the house. Shotton, who had no intention of staying up another night with his friend, was relieved. “Well, I think I’ll call up Yoko,” John said.

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

What happened that night can only be left to the imagination, but since it patently wasn’t the coming together of two virgins for the very first time, did Yoko do her hypnotism thing, as some of John’s friends thought she had, or did she have a powerful new drug in her arsenal? Nobody really believed that John fell in love overnight, because why hadn’t he done so before? He’d been kicking Yoko in and out of his life for over a year. Mostly, he had given the impression that he resented and despised her. So it must have been something pretty potent that made John fall headlong out of his casual affair with her into a mad obsession. Perhaps it was that he really was mentally ill and like many schizoid personalities, got religious mania. If he really did believe that he was Jesus, Yoko would probably have convinced him she was the Virgin Mary. A virgin at any rate. John was shortly to tell the world that they spent the night at the top of the house in his bloodred music room, recording the Two Virgins tape. They say that a moose in heat can waken the dead and achieve the impossible with his bellows. John and Yoko spent the night screaming.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

Whatever her reasoning, Cynthia remained determined to see the marriage through [after finding John and Yoko together]. Convinced that John still needed her, she returned to Kenwood, mollified by his apparent denial that anything improper had occurred. “For a while, everything was wonderful,” she recalled. “We could speak more openly and honestly with each other, and there really was a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.”

But the tunnel was short, and the light soon faded. Within weeks their life together had disintegrated into a revolving state of solicitude and withdrawal, resignation and despondence. Following a stretch when John became disturbingly incommunicative, Cynthia packed once again, escaping on still another vacation to Pesaro, Italy, with her mother, Julian, and a favorite aunt and uncle.

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

No sooner were they back from India, than Jane returned to her work at the Bristol Old Vic, and Paul launched into what was probably the most relaxed time of his life. He opened wide the doors of Cavendish Avenue and the groupies, who had camped as faithfully outside as they had in Wimpole Street during the years that Paul had lived there with the Asher family, were astonished to find they were now invited in. Not only were they invited into the house, but also into Paul’s bed. Whenever I went up to see Paul, the house was filled with giggling, half-naked girls, cooking meals, walking Martha, or glued to the phone for hours on end, calling the world.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

It came as a welcome relief that John and Paul, along with Neil Aspinall, planned a quick trip to New York on May 11, where several press events had been scheduled to announce Apple Records in the States. Friends agreed that getting John away might do him a world of good; being alone, with just Paul to steady him, might have a calming influence. But Paul was grappling with his own set of anxieties. “We wanted a grand launch,” Paul said, “but I had a strange feeling and was very nervous.” Drugs, he later admitted, may have been at the root of his problem; there was a lot of dope-smoking before takeoff and even during the transatlantic flight. But Jane Asher also helped spike Paul’s mood. The grudging engagement between Beatle and actress had been ticklish at best. But since traveling together in India and a subsequent ten-day trip to Scotland, Jane’s eccentricities rankled. Paul was having serious second thoughts about the relationship, which had reached a kind of critical, now-or-never stage.

Between John’s attitude and Paul’s paranoia, the Beatles were a PR nightmare. “It was a mad, bad week in New York,” recalled Derek Taylor, who met the two Beatles there to chaperone a round of press conferences, followed by interviews. Taylor had fashioned himself into a debonair drug aficionado since the Beatles first dosed him at Brian Epstein’s housewarming party, and now he and John gorged themselves on speed and a “mild and extremely benign hallucinogen” called Purple Holiday, courtesy of their New York chauffeur. The effect of it came through in the interviews. John was gallingly withdrawn and dismissive, Paul unusually distracted—which made them come off as two rich, snooty rock stars peddling another product.

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

+ a couple of extra things

A quick timeline

December 25 Paul and Jane announced that they were engaged to be married.

February 15 George, Patti, John and Cynthia flew from London Airport to India.

February 19 Paul, Jane, Ringo and Maureen flew from London Airport to India.

March 26 Paul, Jane and Neil Aspinall flew back to England from Rishikesh, leaving George and Patti, John and Cynthia and “Magic” Alex who had come out to join them.

April 12 John and Cynthia, George and Patti and “Magic” Alex left in a hurry from Rishikesh, India, after “Magic” Alex convinced John and George that the Maharishi was using his position to gain sexual favours from at least one of the female meditators.

May 11 John and Paul, accompanied by “Magic” Alex, Neil Aspinall, Mal Evans, Ron Kass and Derek Taylor, flew to New York to launch Apple in the US.

May 15 Accompanied by Linda, Nat Weiss drove John, Paul and “Magic” Alex to the airport for their flight back to London.

May 19 With Cynthia taking a short holiday, John called Yoko Ono and invited her out to Kenwood. They made a random sound tape, which was later issued as Two Virgins with the notorious sleeve showing them both naked.

May 26 Cynthia returned home from a brief holiday in Greece, to discover Yoko Ono in residence with John.

May 31 Abbey Road. The White Album sessions. Work continued on ‘Revolution 1’ and the last six minutes was removed to form the basis of the chaotic ‘Revolution 9’. Yoko screamed on the track, her first appearance on a Beatles recording.

June 4 Paul began seeing Francie Schwartz.

June 22-23 On this day Paul McCartney addressed a sales conference attended by executives from Capitol Records, where he announced that all future Beatles records would be released through the group’s Apple Records label. The day after they fell in love in Los Angeles, Paul McCartney and Linda Eastman spent much of the day together at the Beverly Hills Hotel, where he was staying as part of an Apple promotional trip.

July 20 Jane Asher, appearing on Simon Dee’s BBC Television show Dee Time, said that her engagement to Paul was off – but that it was not she that had broken it. She told Dee that they had been engaged for seven months, after knowing each other for five years. (She had arrived back at Cavendish Avenue one day to find Paul in bed with a girl named Francie Schwartz.)

The Beatles Diary Volume 1 The Beatles Years (Barry Miles) & https://www.beatlesbible.com/

A comment from Heydullblog, which I find interesting and think sums up how insufficient & unsatisfying most explanations are for how John changed during this period:

Michael Gerber November 25, 2021 at 4:31 pm

What, in all that, makes you HATE Cyn, and divorce her in the most abrupt and vicious way, even attempting to get her to commit adultery so you can give her (and your own son) as little as possible? Why not a quick and amiable divorce from a woman who, let’s be honest, knew she was getting cheated on pretty constantly since 1961.

What, in all that, makes you HATE Paul McCartney, who has been your closest professional collaborator since 1957, and engage in a five-year campaign to smear and demean him in the press? Why do you insist your millions of fans choose you or him? Why not simply pause the group, and everybody goes solo and remains friends, as was predicted at the end of touring?

What makes you DETERMINED to bust up your rock group, the most popular group in the world, the source of all your fame, money, and power?

What makes you pick Yoko Ono IN PARTICULAR out of all the groupies, hangers-on, and even sensible appropriate partners within your current circle? Eighteen months ago you were attracted to Maureen Cleave, Sonny Freeman, Alma Cogan, etc — pretty much the type of women you always picked — but now, you pick a conceptual artist offering total submersion into someone else’s ego?

And what makes you spend the rest of your life pretending all this was the greatest thing ever, the fullest flowering of your genius?

It’s not that John Lennon looked around at his life in early 1968 and thought, “I don’t want this anymore. This isn’t for me.” It’s that he lashed out incredibly fiercely, in every direction, made no distinction between friend and foe, demonstrated a huge amount of resentment and bitterness towards the very people who it would seem had helped him the most, and spent literally the rest of his short life at least arguably LESS happy than he’d been before. He didn’t dump his wife for the nanny and live happily ever after; he started a process of picking things up and throwing them away with great force that, if he’d been that way in 1957, would’ve kept any of his genius from ever emerging.

He changed, fundamentally, in a short time. Why?

Midlife crises happen, they are to be expected, but this one gets more singular the more you look at it. And the thing about post-India Lennon is how he’s no more happy, no more productive, no more self-aware, no more comfortable in his own skin, than pre-India Lennon. What does the guy in August 1980 have to be angry about? Really? It was only after I reached middle-age and went through my own version of crisis (crises) that I thought, “How strange.”

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #mclennon #there are probably a million posts on this topic but the completionist in me had to do one too

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Ten - Duel at dawn

♡♡♡

Meanwhile, at the art studio, Benedict was still lingering around. Most of the artists had vacated the room by this point, but Benedict Bridgerton was still present.

"You have great potential." Henry said, coming up beside him.

"It's nothing," Benedict says sharply.

"Though, for such a staunch critic of others, you certainly lack a clear eye for your own work."

Benedict sighs. "It's the lines. Not what they're supposed to be."

"Take the compliment, Bridgerton. There is no expectation or judgement here. You left all of that back in Mayfair. You can feel free to be yourself here... if that's what you should like."

Benedict smiles.

"It's what works for me, at least. And I haven't been dissatisfied with my lines in... well, quite some time."

Benedict chuckles again. "Well, I've done worse, I suppose, really."

"Mm. Fair enough."

"I seem to have enjoyed myself too much this evening." Benedict looks around at the empty room. "I should be on my way."

"As you wish," Henry says nonchalantly. "But know you are welcome back any time for practice or even conversation."

They both chuckle.

♡♡♡

By the time Benedict gets home, Anthony and Daphne are talking very seriously in the hall. He stops and looks at his two siblings.

"What is it?"

Anthony marches over and grabs him by the arm. "You and I need to talk. Daphne, bed."

Anthony drags his brother to his study.

"I will need you to stand as my second," he says after explaining everything to Benedict.

"What if you get yourself killed?" Benedict asks. He wasn't exactly thrilled about what had apparently transpired, but even less so about the thought of losing his brother.

"Then the title and estates will pass to you," Anthony tells him.

Benedict didn't want that.

"And if you kill Hastings?"

"I shall have to leave the country, and you'll be head of the family in every way that matters."

Again, he didn't want that.

Chuckling I the hall draws their attention to the door.

You laugh with Colin as Violet hangs off the both of you. She's clearly been drinking a lot tonight. She can't even walk straight. You've never seen her so uncomposed before.

The door opens behind you, and Anthony and Benedict are standing there.

"You're clearly sover," Colin laughs with his mother.

"And I'm sober enough to know when you're being impertinent." She chuckles. "Good night, dear."

You giggle. Violet waves at you lazily, and you chuckle again at her inability to remain composed.

You turn to see the two brothers still standing there and nudge Colin. He looks at you and then at them. They wave him over.

"Good god. Did someone die?" Colin asks.

You look at Anthony, who glances at you, his sowlnt thank you for helping bring his mother home. Then your gaze shifts to Benedict, who looks at you with a strange expression. You wonder where he's been all evening.

Colin turns to you. "Get home safe, okay?"

You nod, knowing your maid was waiting outside. You watch him walk toward his brothers and then leave.

♡♡♡

You arrive early to the Bridgerton house the next morning. You had snuck out alone. You had hoped to be there early enough before Anthony left to duel the duke.

Unfortunately they had already left.

You had, however, arrived in time to see Daphne and Colin leaving. When Colin saw you he sighed.

"You cannot be serious."

"I am."

Daphne says your name as she looks at you. "You do not have to witness this."

"I want to. As your friend. I will not allow this stupid, and mind I remind you illegal, activity to take place."

Colin sighs and helps you up into his horse. "Hold on."

He spurs the horse on, leading Daphne to the agreed spot. You hold on tight to him as he rides.

All Daphne can think about is Simon.

"Anthont won't... kill him, right?" You ask, watching Daphne ride.

"No. Sound him, surely."

"Good..."

"Are you worried?" He asks.

"Yes. Are you not?"

Colin doesn't answer.

By the time you arrive within diat ne of seeing them, the two are already stood feet apart with their pistols aimed. It's Daphne who rides faster to get between them.

"Stop!"

Anthony fires his pistol as soon as she shouts, the horse his sister's on rears back and Daphne falls to the ground.

"Daphne!" Simon shouts.

"Sister!"

Both men run toward her.

Colin pulls his horse to a stop, and you both climb off, rushing to them. Benedict drops the pistol case and does the same. He doesn't have time to ask why you're here.

"Are you hurt? Tell me!" Simon demands.

"I am perfectly well, no thanks to you idiots," she says, standing up.

"What are you playing at?" Anthony asks.

"Says the man who just shot at me!"

"You just rode into the middle of a duel!"

"I require a moment with the duke," Daphne says softly.

Anthony tries to stop her, but she stops him in return. Benedict pulls Anthony back and says, "make it brief."

Daphne and Simon walk off to talk.

"What are you doing here?" Benedict asks once they're out of ear shot.

"I came to help stop this ridiculous display."

"You could have been hurt," he says.

"No one got hurt, luckily."

Benedict looks a little lost for words. You sigh and look at him and then at Anthony. The eldest looks at you and nods once, softly. His eyes then flick back over to his sister.

"We must resume before someone should find us," Anthony says to the pair.

Simon nods at him.

Daphne watches him walk and then says, "there will be no need to resume."

Everyone turns to look at her.

"The duke and I are to be married."

You look at her and then turn to the duke. You're not sure what they discussed. He stares at her.

The three brothers look between the duke and their sister.

Whatever they discussed, Daphne made up her mind.

When Simon does not speak against her statement, it becomes clear to everyone that the matter is settled.

Now you all just need to get home before someone sees you all.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

[reiden]

i wanna hold the hand inside you | r.itoshi

You think of Itoshi Rin, your first love, often; the one who never was and the one who got away. Unexpectedly, you find yourself reuniting with the boy you once knew right in front of your apartment.

cw: fem!reader, reader has a habit of skin-picking, soft angst w/ happy ending, suggestive, slight hand obsession?

— ✦

You always feel uglier after you pick at your skin. Which defeats the purpose because you do it to rid yourself of an imperfection you've stumbled upon. And yet, after all is said and done and the skin has grown irritated, all you can think about is how you've only gotten uglier.

You used to pick at your face, scratching at any bumps or texture you spot in the mirror, but you've gotten better about it now. You've stopped doing it on your face altogether. It was one too many people who thought they were close enough with you to inadvertently call you ugly. You're pretty sure the first to do it had been Itoshi Sae, your neighbour two houses down. Back then, when you were only eight, you hadn't cared that he thought your habit was unbecoming. It didn't matter what Sae thought — you had Rin.

One day, you realised you didn't really have Rin either.

Since then, you've moved onto your hands.

Your face is the important part, no one ever really looks at hands. You might think about it if you were to give a handshake, but when you think of that person from memory later that day, you'll think of their face. As long as your face is left alone, it doesn't matter what happens to the skin around your nails.

But you like looking at hands. They reveal so much about someone. Whether or not they clean their nails, if they paint them, if their hands are soft or calloused — all of these things are like clues that fit together to form the bigger picture of their life. Your own hands must give away the parts of you that you would prefer to stay hidden — like the fact that you pick at your skin. Itoshi Rin has beautiful hands. His hands were pretty enough that you were glad he played a sport that relied on his legs and feet instead. You never told him that you thought so; he probably would have called you strange should he have found out.

He never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.

You pull at your skin again, pushing it down with the edge of your nail just until you feel the sharp sting of it having gone too far. It's boring at your job, nothing much to do or see. You sit on an ergonomic moving chair behind a large wooden desk, adjusting calendars and making appointments. There isn't much mystique to your job, nothing to write home about, but it gets you through life just fine. Glancing over at the time, you decide to click through and answer a few more emails in time for lunch to roll around.

In junior high, you had wanted to be an artist. You joined the art club and begged your family to let you participate in painting and sketching classes. You kept sketchbook after sketchbook filled with doodles and things — mostly of hands. It's been a long running obsession of yours. You used to draw faces but ever since you stopped messing with your face, your drawings of them phased out too.

In senior high, a teacher told you that artists don't make money from drawing hands all day. It irked you enough that you let go of that dream. You wanted to become a nail technician, you decided. The day you changed your dream, you went to tell the only person you considered close enough to tell; you went to tell Rin. It was that day that you had to come to the startling realisation that your best friend didn't seem to consider you much of a friend anymore. You spent all of your lunch break looking for him, only to find him practising at the field behind your school. When you called out to him, he ignored you. He stopped answering your texts too. You discarded the sliver of hope you had kept safe within your chest — the very thing that made you believe you would get Rin back soon. Something had changed in him and you didn't know what because he never told you.

(Because he never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.)

You found other friends. Rin always seemed to be alone. He pulled out of school for a football program a week later, and you decided to give up on becoming a nail technician.

There's a soft beep that rings out from your phone — just one singular chime at the lowest volume you set on your first day on the job — when it's time for your lunch break. You always take it at the same tonkatsu shop seven minutes away from your place of work.

Today, it takes you ten minutes to get there because the heels you've chosen to wear are new ones; you haven't broken them in yet. You bought them for a date that you never ended up going to. Guilt over standing them up had consumed you but you just couldn't muster up the courage to go. You were all too aware of the fact that some pathetic part of you was still clinging onto a boy you haven't seen for a long time.

You remember the brush of the wind through his fringe, the sharp determined glint in his emerald eyes. You still hold onto the way his name once had a home at the tip of your tongue. Even as the years pass, Itoshi Rin digs his teeth into your skin and remains with you; parasitic and tormenting.

You ease yourself into the table in the corner and make your order, scrolling through your phone while you wait. Your feed is full of recent news, some things you understand and others you're not quite sure you get. Rin is there too, mixed in between all the posts about celebrities and new dramas. You were always bad at watching football. You were bad with most sports, they could never keep your interest for long, but you tried for Rin's sake. When the both of you were younger, you'd sit on the grass at the park and watch Rin run through the drills he'd seen his brother do earlier.

As you stare at the pictures of him standing on the pitch, stadium lights spilling down on him, you can't help but feel proud. Sweat glistens along his hairline, his hair still cut in the same way he used to have it when you knew him. The captain's armband is stretched tight around his bicep as his arm curls to hold up a trophy.

The swell in your chest comes with an ache you've never learned to get rid of. This ache that's ever-present, always there like a guest you can't seem to send home. It had only been a small sting when your friendship with Rin fully fell apart, but it grew tenfold when you realised you were in love with him. You pick at your skin again, the same place from earlier. Pain blooms at your fingertip but you choose to ignore it as you scroll past the pictures; your heart squeezes and shudders against your will, even after all these years.

The day inches past, sweat gathers along the nape of your neck. You leave the building at five precisely, stagger into the subway station at half past five, and sink into a navy blue seat at a quarter to six. The backs of your brand new heels dig into your ankles and you're certain there will be blisters when you yank them off at home.

Even still, your day has been a good one. Despite the fact that your mother had called and urged you to visit home; despite today marking the anniversary you first met Itoshi Rin; despite the way your heart always sinks at the realisation that you still remember the significance of what should be another meaningless day. Despite it all, it had been good and you stare at the passerby walking along the platform, head pressed against the cool window.

(You wonder about Rin once more, like you always do. You wonder if he's walking amongst a crowd this evening, perhaps something fried in his hand, keeping his palm warm. Maybe he's holding a drink instead — lukewarm green tea. In another world, it might have been your hand.)

The train shakes to a start, rocking you from side to side and it becomes impossible to keep yourself awake. You drift off to the memory of a boy you once knew.

-

You're sure you're bleeding. The skin around your index nail is irritated, throbbing with a dull pain. Similarly, there's a sting — a quick flash of something white hot up your left calf — whenever you take a step. Your blister must have turned into a cut.

Your soles scrape against the road, shoulders loose and hunched forward as you meander your way home. The sun has set, disappearing into the skyline in the distance as the sky grows darker and the wind picks up. Streetlights have flickered to life and you pass by a salon still packed with customers, women resting against soft cushions as they converse. You roll your neck from side to side, attempting to release some of the tension that has gathered along your muscles from staying seated almost all day, fingers loosely wrapped around the straps of your bag.

Eyes trained on the fading white marks beneath your feet, you turn the corner into the alleyway you apartment building sits in. There's a crunch of someone taking a step towards you, and then — the call of your name, familiar, wrapped up in the gravelly tone of a voice too rough to belong to the boy you once knew. But you know it's him, anyway.

"Rin?" you tilt your head to the side, scanning over his features as he stands against the sunlight, soft shadows marking his pale skin. He remains silent, almost stunned as he stands across from you, so you speak again, "It's been a while." 

He doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch in a way that suggests one. Rin is wearing a dark windbreaker, hands stuffed into its pockets. There's a loose thread hanging off the cuff around his wrist, a tiny rip of the outer fabric revealing the slight grey beneath. He clears his throat, "Yes, it has been." There's a pause then, neither of you willing to bridge the gap in conversation as the exhaust fans whir quietly. 

"How have you been?" Rin asks, taking a step towards you. You can smell him now, flowery and sweet; its lavender, which is what you had remembered him as. In a way, it comforts you — some things will stay the same and stand the test of time, no matter how many years have inched by.

“I’ve been good,” you hum. Truthfully, you haven’t quite been good in a long time. You’ve been alright, you’ve made it from day to day, you pay your bills on time and you see your friends every other weekend; but it’s not good — it's just alright. You don’t think Rin needs to hear that, not after how long it has been since you last heard his voice following after your own. 

It's strange to think about how his mother knows your name and your face, knows that you like lemonade with some raspberry in it; how Rin was there to witness the way you got every fading scar on your arms and legs. Standing before him now, you don't even know what his apartment might look like. Your lives, which were once so intricately intertwined, have unravelled and diverged to the point of obscurity.  

You've given him the room to say something, continue the conversation or choose to end it, but Rin is quiet as he takes you in. His brows are furrowed, just a shaky line above his dark eyes as watches you fidget and begin to grow uncomfortable under the weight of stare. 

This silence is far too heavy of a burden for you to shoulder, so you cut through with a question that seems a bit out of place now. "What are you doing here?" 

Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was previously in, "I was out on a walk — wandering around, I guess." Rin shuffles even closer and the wind billows, rustling the fabric of his windbreaker. You watch his hair flutter and fall against his forehead.

"I would have thought that you'd be busy all the time, seeing as you're a celebrity now," you say with a soft laugh, twisting the ends of your coat between your fingers while your bag swings gently from side to side in your other hand. 

He doesn't seem to like that, gaze sharpening just a bit as his mouth curves into a frown. You chew on your bottom lip, feeling a bottomless pit open up inside of your stomach at the realisation that it's become so much harder to talk to the boy who used to be your best friend. (To talk to the boy who you used to love — who you are willing to love once again.) 

It's getting colder as the remaining tendrils of sun slowly disappear, hiding away to make room for the moon to shine. You nod at your apartment, "Would you...like to come inside?" You expect him to say no, after all, the two of you are no longer the people you remember each other to be. 

Surprisingly, Rin perks up at your question, firmly nodding once. He follows after you as you walk over to your front door, fishing around the front pocket of your bag for your keys. Rin stands a hair's width away from you, his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and goosebumps ripple down your arms. 

You watch him study your home, scrutinising your choice of decor — the small pictures framed on the walls, magazines and books strewn about — as he takes off his shoes. He seems to be drawn to the picture resting on one of your shelves: it's of you and him, years ago, standing next to each other with smiles full of missing teeth that look more like grimaces. You were hoping he wouldn't notice that one, one of the only pictures you've kept of and from your childhood, but you can't blame him for it either. Had it been you, that picture would have been the first one you noticed too.

"You kept this?" he's nearly whispering as he gently takes the ageing framed photo in his hands. 

You rest your bag on the floor, "Yeah. Mom gave it to me right before I moved out." He turns back to look at you and his next words are unspoken, but still so loud. 

You hadn't just kept it — you framed it, placed it in your living room for everyone to see. His expression crumbles momentarily, a quiet admission of guilt that settles in the short distance between you. Rin must not have kept much of you with him. He never says it outright, but you know better. Maybe that should leave you feeling bitter but it's somehow exactly what you expected of him. 

Has Itoshi Rin changed at all from the last time you saw him? Do you just know him too well? 

Dusting off your clothes, you take a deep breath, "It's getting late. Want dinner?"

Rin agrees. Like you were expecting him to.

-

You've never liked beer.

But you find yourself peering into a glass full of it as Rin settles in across from you. You're still in your work attire, the waistband of your skirt digging into your stomach after your full meal. Rin's left his windbreaker in a crumpled heap of fabric beside his chair, the tip of his finger drawing lines in the condensation forming on his glass. His nails are well-groomed, cut short and clean. They might be better than yours, but that’s because Rin doesn’t pick at his skin like you do. You stare until you think you shouldn’t anymore. 

He hasn't gotten up to leave. You haven't kicked him out. 

Resting your cheek against your fist, you push yourself forward, closer to him. Your slight movement draws his attention away from the glass, Rin looks up at you as his frown eases up. 

"It's strange seeing you," you admit, more open to honesty thanks to your slight state of inebriation. "Strange seeing you after so many years." 

"You have that picture," he scoffs, jerking his head in the vague direction of the picture of the two of you as kids. 

Scrunching up your nose, you lean back against the chair, "Yeah, but you don't look like that anymore. You're taller and you have too many teeth." You take a sip of your beer, feeling it fizz against your top lip, "And you're probably meaner now." 

He startles, looks offended when he throws back whatever's left in his glass. "I'm not mean." 

You raise a brow, "You were already pretty mean when you left me." You shock yourself at how easily the words slipped past your lips, how little hesitation there was. How you still sounded so hurt over it all despite having spent years convincing yourself that you didn't miss him. The treacherous muscle beating within your ribcage twists and shakes. It only takes a moment for understanding to soften the glare Rin is giving you. Reaching over, you grab the can of beer to refill his glass, cursing under your breath when you realise it's empty. "I'll get some more — just wait."

You dig around in your refrigerator and you can feel Rin watching. "You're bleeding," he says. 

"It's nothing," you wave him off, returning with another cold can. 

He shakes his head, "Do you have bandages?"

And so you find yourself with your chest pressed against the cushions of your couch, ankles hanging off the edge. You spare Rin a glance over your shoulder, awkwardness leaving you silent and rigid. He's kneeling beside you, holding two bandages he insisted he get for you from the years old first aid kit stashed away in your medicine cabinet. 

"You don't have to do this you know," you mumble, pinching at the inside of your cheek with your teeth. "I could have done it myself." 

Rin gently grabs your ankle, his fingers are cold enough to make you jolt. "It's fine," he brushes off your words with nothing more than a grumble. "This could get infected," he adds on as he places the band-aid over the cut. 

His hands are on you, fingers wrapped around your ankle almost completely. He skims them over your skin and you suppress a shiver. You think you should tell him that his hands are pretty — that they have always been pretty — but you bite your tongue. 

Your cuts don't hurt as much as they had earlier, and the blood surrounding them has dried down. You're sure nothing would have come of it being left uncovered, but Rin seems adamant on doing this simple task for you. You wonder if part of it has anything to do with being labelled as "mean." 

He shuffles over to your other ankle, jeans brushing against your rug, as does the same thing. It's been too long since you've been taken care of like this — the feeling has become wholly foreign and you struggle to sit still while Rin smooths out the band-aid over your skin. When he stands up, you twist around and slouch your back against the couch, facing him. 

Rin looms over you. He brushes some hair out of his eyes and sits down next to you. "I'm on a break — I'll be around a lot more."

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, "Around to see me?" 

And perhaps, you're imagining it, the way he moves closer so that his thigh is pushed up against it. Perhaps, you're imagining how he's leaned into you. Rin's temple makes contact with your shoulder and you exhale. 

"Yes," he whispers, looking up at you through his lashes." To see you." You can recognise the guilt swimming in his gaze, leftover from earlier in the evening.

You wish he would just say it — say sorry — but your heart yearns for him regardless of what he's said and what he should have said. It's ridiculous; it was years ago and you should have moved on. (And you know that the only reason it hurt as badly as it did was the fact that you had loved him twice as much when things soured.) You're motivated by the ache you've grown accustomed to when you bring your hand to his hair, digging your fingers in, scratching at his scalp. Much like a cat, Rin goes limp against you and you trace the side of his face with the pad of your thumb. 

You try to hide your other hand, feeling somewhat self-conscious about the way you’ve torn it up. Rin reaches for it without a second thought, lacing his fingers together with your own, oblivious to all the rough parts you’ve left behind with your habit. 

"What if I don't want to see you?" you question. You don't really mean it — you hope he knows. 

You can feel his breath, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he speaks, "I would wait until you said you wanted to." 

"Even if that took years?" You pause your movements, hand still in his hair. Rin draws a gasp out from you when he presses a fluttering kiss against your wrist — a nervous kiss, one that tests the waters. 

"Even then," he says. 

You don't know who leans in first, you want to say it's Rin but you, with your years of yearning, are not to be trusted either. His cold palms cup your face, lips parting against your own, his tongue meeting yours. He kisses you hungrily, eagerly, desperate to make up for years of lost time and memories that were meant to be shared by two but left to be held by just one instead. It almost hurts — when his teeth sink into your lip and you whimper, Rin snaps his eyes open. He licks over where he bit, fingers digging into your cheeks. 

You like the feeling of his hands on you. You want them everywhere, you decide. Rin tugs at your collar, unbuttons your shirt quickly, his hands splayed out over your sides and just grazing your bra. It's only then that you pull away, chest heaving as you stare up at him.

"Will you discard me again?" Your voice sounds almost meek in a way; you're afraid of what he might say and of what you might see. Too scared to see him hesitate, too scared to meet his eyes and not see yourself reflected in them.

But Rin's answer is instantaneous. His gaze has darkened some, lust-blown and riddled with the yearning that's been growing in your chest for years. His palm encircles your wrist, the other wraps around your waist chasing purchase. "Never," he says with a kind of conviction that leaves butterflies erupting at your fingertips. 

While his hand travels up your back, he kisses you again and this time it feels different. He moves up your wrist, intertwining your fingers once more. You know you have him in all the ways that he has you. 

#itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #wr.iting

[bbonnenuit]

The Smiths.

notes: chrollo is yandere, although the fic is lighthearted. the biggest warning is the fact that chrollo looks like he'd listen to the smiths /j, another bigger warning is that reader is an avid the smiths hater. im not tho, all for fun. female reader.

 “Daydreaming again, I see?”

   It would be a lie to say that Chrollo’s voice isn’t at the slightest bit pleasant to hear. It’s soft and smooth, but accompanied with a confident low timbre that you think might be the source of it’s charm. 

   You often wish you both don’t share a language to speak over, so whatever he speaks would be foreign yet pleasant gibberish in your ears. And maybe you’d be able to close your eyes and sleep. You’d be able to treat him as the background noise of some radio host talking about something as mundane as today’s newest dramas. 

  You don’t find the need to chase the impossible ideal this time. One doesn’t need to be a linguist expert in order to know no malice or warning is present in his voice, though one might need a bachelor’s degree and over four decades of experience in psychology to know he truly means nothing behind his calm demeanor. 

   You sign yourself to a fate you’re unsure of, and though it’s foolish, there’s nothing you can do anyway. You’re stuck with him, in a moving four-wheeled compartment, that’s also stuck in traffic. 

   “The music’s good.” Is all you say, and he hums in understanding. 

     Silence falls over the two of you again.

   You almost brought back the colorful reverie you were in before he decided to interject, until he reached for his phone to change the music. Oh, bluetooth, the convenient technology you are. His phone is located on the right of his steering wheel, far away from your reach. If he had reached for the audio system you would’ve been (maybe) able to slap his hand away. 

   “Hm, I’d rather you pay attention to me.” The lilt in his voice is unmistakable. And you almost gag, was that an attempt in flirting? Blegh.  

   “I’ll just stare at the cars,” Headlights and astigmatism can make a good duo, you remind yourself. 

   Chrollo hums again, You can almost laugh, so being stuck in your own daydreams and practically doing nothing is unacceptable, but staring at cars is alright? 

  You stare at a car, observing the way the light that emits from it’s headlights become blurry in your sights, they almost take shape of stars in your opinion. 

   So you set your sights on a particularly small black car in front of you, must be a Toyota or Avanza or something. You can’t tell, it’s got four wheels and headlights, so it’s a car. You could care less about what it is. That is why you weren’t all so interested when Chrollo took you a look into his….Rolls… Rolls what? Oh, right, Rolls Royce. It’s a fancy one, you can tell. He was exuding quite an air of importance when he was leading you towards the high-end vehicle located in the restaurant’s parking lot, there were some on-lookers around that spot that expressed interest at the car. It means something when even people of the middle-upper class are showing interest.

   Whatever ego that had probably swelled within Chrollo must’ve popped like a balloon, or so you hope, because you did nothing more than give him a thumbs up before letting yourself in the passenger’s seat. You also didn’t miss the way he was preparing to tell you about the car’s compartments and specialties that made it cost years of labor. Ah, you’re certain he didn’t gain this vehicle from labor, though. 

   Fancy car or not, everyone’s equally stuck in this traffic. 

   Fancy car or not, doesn’t determine that the song played inside the compartment is free from your judgment or not.

   “What song is this? You ask, although you know the answer. You somehow need an assurance that he is lucid. 

   “Please, please, please, by The Smiths.” He says, pleasant with his song of choice. 

   What an ironic song and artist of choice. 

    It’s harder to hide in a cackle than a scowl, you’d almost forgotten. Any voice you let out threatens to come out as sharp laughter and any breathe you intake threatens to become a wheeze. You could hardly contain yourself. 

   “Oh…” Is all you say before pausing, afraid anything else you will say will turn into a rowdy session of laughter. Unsure if you should speak further or not. But the inquisitive look he offers you somehow serves as a push rather than something that usually wants you to further seal your lips shut in fear you would say the wrong thing and earn his silent ire. It’s far, far harder to hide a cackle than a scowl, but months of training yourself to hide certain expressions whenever Chrollo is around has paid off. “What about Frank Sinatra?” 

 Chrollo smiles. Is he delighted that you find interest in one of his favorite artists? Though he’s never said it outloud, every long night drive has its silence filled with at least one Frank Sinatra song. 

   “Would you rather I change the song, dear?” He offers. And you would say yes, but this is one of the rare, rare moments where you are given the opportunity to take a jab at him. Although it’s nothing as deadly as anything a leader of the Phantom Troupe has faced, you won’t kill him or even hurt him for very long. But you are willing to do anything, at this point. 

   You feign the most pleasant voice you can muster, “Hm… That’s not really what I meant. I just didn’t think you’d listen to The Smiths.” 

   He lets out a small laugh, “Really? I have always listened to older songs around you, I suppose. I wouldn't say I like it… Hm, but it’s an interesting band.”

   So he does like it! 

   “Why do you think so?” You inquire further before adding, “Do you like this song a lot?”

   “Are you intending to interview me, (Name)?” Chrollo cocks his eyebrow, but it is only meant to tease you. 

  “Must’ve picked it up from someone.” A relentless pursuit, you press on further, “Okay though, but answer my question.” 

   Silence falls over him, as if he were in his own state of thinking so deeply, but you know it’s mainly a pretense. Whatever he wishes to say after, you know it must’ve been something he had thought of before. In any other situation, this silence often serves as to let a dreadful situation simmer in your mind.  But this time… Ah, you’re quite unsure. 

  Chrollo finally speaks,  “I’ll answer you of course.” The smile he gives you is anything but nice when you are very much aware of the condemnation those same lips bring you, “On the condition you’d kiss me after.”

  “Okay.” To his surprise, you agreed rather quickly. If that’s the sacrifice you need to make, then so be it. A kiss to soothe his soon-to-be sour, scorned face!

  He is satisfied, you can tell. He puts his elbow against the steering wheel, resting his face against his palm. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested, whatever designs you have in your head… Hm, I’ll know of it soon.” 

   No one fucking asked damn. You internally deadpanned, impatience is gnawing at your throat. He reminds you of how you’d write your essays when you have to reach a certain minimum word count by relentlessly dragging around a topic and beating around a bush so much that you end up writing a novel rather than an assignment. Ah… To make him anything alike to you doesn’t sound very right. Whatever, you digress. 

   Chrollo finally, finally starts. And you’re excited, elated, jovial- ah every synonym of the word happiness comes into mind. You can put any thesaurus at shame by now. “I remember the first time we met, you called me something of a hopeless romantic. At that time, I had only laughed because I found the sentiment rather off. Such nonsense. Me? An idealist of love? Love has always been a tool for me. You could only dream.”

   You cut to the chase,“Mhm, although you’ve found a contradiction because you actually enjoy those sappy songs right? Okay, what’s next?” 

   “You know me very well (You smile, excited). But that's not all (you frown, deflated).” Sweet, saccharine drips off of his voice. “I’ve never paid attention to such things, not for myself at least. I don’t ‘relate’ to those kinds of songs. But ever since I met you, it felt as if the world had shifted for me.” 

  He doesn’t stop, and for once you are glad he isn't, “My world has shifted and taken a hole in itself, one that has been carved into the shape of you.” 

  It is interesting how he is able to muse so freely about you, in front of you. Where is the shame and decorum?

   “And I do quite like this song, in all honesty.” His gaze meets yours, and grey eyes bore into your soul. “It really does remind me of the one I love so dearly.” 

   Please, please, please, let me get what I want… Those lyrics loop in your head over and over again. You should be sick with the abundance of affection he has for you that makes you seethe. And you would claw at the leather seats, avert your gaze, and try to block him out as much as you can. But tonight, you feel fucking amazing. 

  You can barely handle it. 

   “Dude, come on,” Your voice is off by an octave and you swear you can burst. Chrollo on the other hand finds satisfaction melting off of his face over the term being used to refer to him, outright calling him a bastard or a monster might be better. You make it a mental note to call him ‘dude’ more. “The Smiths is for losers.” 

   …

   “Pardon?’ 

   “The Smiths is for losers.” You repeat yourself before adding, “It’s for guys who can’t get any, for guys who waddle in sadness for something they can’t get, guys who are always up their own ass. Condescending guys who are secretly insecure, manipulative guys, guys who play guitar and get sad then do weed…” You are kind enough to give a long-winded further explanation.  Chrollo does not share the same sentiment. 

  Chrollo’s countenance seems unchanging at first, but it is not a waste, for you saw a split second of confusion, then something of offense written on his face before it smoothes out into the uncannily still expression he always wears. His lips open, then close, as if he’s mulling over an answer.

   “Are you insinuating I am that type of person, dearest?’ 

   "I mean if the shoe fits...? Well, what do you think?"

    He sighs like it’s obvious,  “That you made the wrong accusation over baseless data.” 

    “I’m not accusing you of anything!” You hold your hands up in mock defense, “Just telling you something everyone kind of agrees on. Things don’t have to be written in numbers or books… Sometimes it’s just a consensus. Everyone and their mom agrees on it."

   You are relentless tonight, so you continue again though Chrollo prompts nothing from your newfound talkative nature tonight, something you’re sure he would actually love in a different situation. 

   “These are the kind of guys girls avoid you know? People call it something of a warning. Like, ‘avoid guys who listen to The Smiths’.  I don’t mean to generalize or anything, but guys who listen to songs like that don’t end up to be very well in the head. And I also don’t mean to believe rumors but… Well…” You cough awkwardly, but it’s meant to deliver an unspoken message you know will only further test his ire. But you think you have had enough fun for tonight, you don’t wish to turn the night sour for you after all.

   …Or so you thought. 

   “So I’m just trying to say that you should treat me a little better, you know what I mean? I’m putting up with a lot” Everything you say here are meant to be a 50% insult, 30% jab, and 20% jokes. But the last thing you said, you can’t lie and say that you hope he’d take further thought on that. You yearn to hopefully be able to get out of the hotel room that serves as your grandiose cage more, and when you do, you aren’t being watched by an unknown amount of eyes that you know trail on to you by the shadows. That is all you wish for, really. That is to say, you can only wonder what his standards are for ‘treating you better’. 

   Ah, the smile he has on his face is different from before. This one is a sign that your fun is coming to a quick halt. 

   “So that’s what you’re getting at? Resourceful little minx you are.” 

   Why is he sounding so delighted over your insults, is he a masochist? Is he stupid? It’s your turn to cock your eyebrow. 

  “Have you enticed me in this long-winded conversation simply because you wanted to be treated a little better? And the way you had agreed so quickly to that kiss… " He puts a hand to his chest, a mockery of an apology. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blind to your need for affection. You've gone through lengths to communicate your need, I'm very grateful."

  You let out a humorless laugh, “Pardon?” He is just truly-! Argh, whatever! “Did you not hear anything else I said?” You make sure to enunciate your words properly, afraid he might have some sort of hearing problems, well he does and you’re certain it has a name. What was it again? Oh right, an unfortunate combination of delusion and selective hearing… 

  “I know you tend to turn a little childish when you can’t get what you want. That’s not a quality many men like either. So, be a little kinder to me, won’t you?” 

  “Women don’t usually like mass murderers either. Anyone in their right mind, actually.”

   He hums, “That orange container of pills by your nightstand says otherwise. Not the best defense, try again?” 

   “You'd have some too, you just don't have any because you don't go to therapy."

   “Hm, keeping up that attitude won’t make me kiss you any sooner.” 

   “Then I’ll gladly keep this attitude!” 

   Unfortunately you don’t. You’re angry enough to have the energy to spew a million insults at lightspeed against him, but too angry to form a coherent thought that you’re certain would give him a decent jab. And to be frank, you’re rather spent. When you (reluctantly) asked Chrollo what time it was, thankfully he gave you a proper response. A quick tap of his phone showed that it was two and a half hours above your usual bedtime. The clothes you have aren’t the most comfortable either, while it’s not short they certainly expose areas where the wind would have too much fun dancing over. 

   Traffic is clearing as you can see the hotel you are both staying in come into view. You relax at the sight. You can almost feel the warm bath you will be soaking yourself in, what scent will you choose tonight? Rosemary, lavender… Ah, you can smell them already. You prompt to close your eyes for a moment of rest, but you find yourself sleeping on the rest of the way back.

   You feel fingers combing your locks stirring you awake, they’re Chrollo’s, obviously. Although you are half conscious, you recognize that scent of sandalwood and amber anywhere, as much as you’re ashamed to admit it. 

  “Do you want me to carry you?” Chrollo asks, and you murmur something in between a noise of annoyance and a ‘no’. He chuckles at this sight. “Alright then.” 

   He gives a soft peck on your lips, it’s warm. You almost lean in when the warmth of his lips leave yours, this half-conscious state gives him a moment of your vulnerability he has set his eyes on,  the one he relentlessly pursues after so much. But you know that even when he has a grasp at your vulnerability, it won’t stop him from digging for more. Greedy, ruthless man that he is, he will never stop. 

  “You are absolutely precious, you know that? Even if your mouth tends to run without care” Is that condescension or admiration in his voice? Pity, you can’t tell in the state you are in. You’re drunk from the lack of sleep and the future victory you have in mind. 

  “Before I answer that…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, Chrollo merrily leans in closer to hear you. Your lips ghost by the shell of his ear… 

  …

  “Name five songs from The Smiths. Are you like an actual fan or is it just FOMO?” 

   He just sighs. 

header from https://id.pinterest.com/pin/334040497376021340/

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo imagine #hxh chrollo #hxh x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo brainrot #chrollo is a loser #reader insert #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader

[tonyspank]

YOU RIGHT

Warnings: none i think Summary: You meet Olivia Rodrigo at a party. A/N: part 2?

Olivia Rodrigo x Reader

Fame. It was a blessing and a curse, bringing both adoration and scrutiny. The allure of the spotlight drew people in, but the constant invasion of privacy weighed heavily on those who experienced it.

You never wanted to be famous, with everyone watching your every move and judging your every decision. The pressure to maintain a perfect image becomes suffocating, leaving no room for mistakes or personal growth. It seemed like too much.

Your friends, on the other hand, envied the idea of fame. They saw it as a gateway to success, wealth, and recognition, and hell, it was.

The difference between Jack's and your bank accounts was big.

Jack Harlow, a rising rap artist, seemed to have it all. Jack Harlow, the same guy you used to hang out with and freestyle with in your basement, was now selling out arenas and topping the charts.

Jack Harlow, the same guy who would visit New York just to hang out with you, his best friend.

You'd know Jack since he was just starting out in the music industry. You had witnessed his journey from recording songs in his bedroom to signing a major record deal.

You were proud of him, he was truly like a brother to you, and seeing his success brought you immense joy. Despite his fame, Jack remained humble and always made time for the people who had supported him from the beginning.

Which is why he decided to drag you to a party in downtown Brooklyn, a place he hoped you would enjoy. The party was filled with talented musicians and industry professionals, nearly everyone there had some connection to the music industry.

You follow Jack as he maneuvers through the crowd, making his way to the DJ booth. You watch him dap up the DJ before he introduces you to him. "This is Zack Bia, his shit is fire. I swear to you." Jack says, leaning closer to you so you can hear him over the music.

Zack daps you up, giving you a warm smile before turning back to his DJ set. Zack leans into Jack's ear, whispering something that makes Jack quickly nod his head, you can slightly mouth the words "Oh yeah."

Zack presses a button on his DJ controller, and the music transitions seamlessly into Jack's song, Dua Lipa. He then hands him a mic, and Jack grabs it eagerly, ready to perform.

As the beat drops, Jack's voice fills the room, captivating everyone with his smooth delivery and undeniable stage presence. The crowd goes wild, their energy fueling Jack's performance as he effortlessly commands the small stage.

You find yourself nodding your head to the beat, unable to resist the infectious rhythm. The music pulsates through your body, making it impossible to stand still. Jack puts an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as you take a sip from your glass.

"Do the next part," Jack whispers in your ear, moving the microphone away from his lips. You laugh a bit, shaking your head. "Nah, man." Jack smiles, "C'mon."

He doesn't give you time to process your response before he moves the microphone to your mouth and starts singing the next verse. Caught off guard, you stumble over the lyrics for a moment before finding your voice and joining in.

Jack starts jumping up and down, his energy contagious as he encourages the crowd to sing along. "So, what's up?" Jack shouts into the microphone, moving it away from you.

You leave the stage, needing a drink and fresh air after being put on the spot like that. When you arrive at the bar, you see a brunette girl sitting by herself, her head down, as she types away on her phone.

You twist your lips, would she mind if you took a seat next to her?

The bartender looks up from cleaning a glass and nods at you, indicating that you can take a seat. When you settle down, you catch a glimpse of the girl's screen, noticing that she's scrolling through social media.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asks, breaking your focus. You quickly glance at the menu and order a shot of tequila.

You can feel it. Her eyes stare at your side profile, but you pretend not to notice and play with the rings on your fingers. What would you say to her if you mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation?

Moments later, the bartender returns with your shot of tequila, accidentally knocking over the girl's drink and proceeding to drop your shot on the table. "Shit! I am so sorry."

You chuckle and reassure the bartender that it's alright, searching for a napkin. "Do you have a napkin?" You ask the bartender, glancing at the wet stain on your jeans.

The bartender searches underneath the counter, unable to find a napkin. "I'm really sorry, but I don't have any napkins at the moment. There might be some in the bathroom upstairs."

You glance at the brunette, who is now wiping her drink off her dress with her hands. "I could also grab you a napkin too, if you'd like."

For the first time, she looks at you, and your stomach does backflips.

"I could come with." She smiles, her brown doe eyes staring into yours. Her smile is warm and inviting, making your heart race even faster. "That would be great," you say, trying to hide your excitement.

You both make your way up the stairs, squeezing past other people who are heading downstairs. As you reach the top, you notice a sign pointing towards the bathroom. The brunette leads the way, gracefully navigating through the crowd.

Huh. This place used to be a studio, you think to yourself, admiring the high ceilings and large windows. You walk into the bathroom with her, turning on the light to reveal a clean and modern design.

The marble countertops and sleek fixtures give the space an elegant touch. You can't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that you won't have to endure a grimy restroom experience tonight.

The brown-eyed girl lets out a huff, searching the bottom compartment for napkins. "Well, I didn't find any napkins, but..." she says, pulling out a blowdryer. "We can use this."

You laugh, impressed by her resourcefulness. "That's definitely a creative solution," you say, admiring her ability to think outside the box. "Who needs napkins when we have a blowdryer?" you joke, helping her plug in the blowdryer.

You sit on the countertop, waiting for the blow dryer to warm up. "I'm Y/N, by the way." The brown-eyed girl smiles and extends her free hand. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Olivia," she introduces herself, grateful for the unexpected company in this situation.

You shake hands, and you can't help but feel that this encounter might turn into an interesting and memorable experience.

Olivia raises the blowdryer on the wet spot on your jeans, causing you to jump a bit in surprise. "Sorry about that," she apologizes, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"You're good, it's just a bit hot."

You smile as you watch her swing the blow dryer back and forth, blowing warm air onto your damp jeans. Olivia looks back at you with a small smile on her lips.

"Did you get dragged here too? Or did you come willingly?" You ask, trying to make conversation.

"A bit of both, you?"

You chuckle softly, your eyes glancing around the room. "Well, I guess you could say I was persuaded to come," you admit with a playful tone. "But I'm actually glad I did. It's been a while since I've hung around Jack...I missed him."

Olivia nods understandingly, her smile widening. "Jack, like Jack Harlow?" You nod in response, confirming her guess. "Yeah, that's the one. We used to be attached at the hip back in high school, but life got busy and we drifted apart. It's nice to reconnect and catch up."

"Do you make music too?" Olivia asks, curious. You shake your head, chuckling softly. "No, not like Jack. I'm more of a listener than a creator when it comes to music. But I've always admired his talent and passion for it."

"You make music, though, right?" You ask and Olivia nods, smiling. "Yes, I do. It's been a big part of my life for as long as I can remember. I like being able to express myself through music and connect with others who kind of relate. It's a form of therapy for me, a way to escape and let my emotions flow freely."

You hum, "I completely understand what you mean. Music has a way of speaking rather than using words." Olivia's smile widens, and she nods in agreement. "Exactly! I honestly can't imagine my life without music."

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you. Another one of Jack's songs begins to play, so loudly that you can faintly hear it all the way up here.

"Want me to dry your dress?" You break the silence, softly taking the blow dryer from her hands. "Oh! Uh, sure, thank you." You smile, hopping off the counter. "You wanna sit? I can help you up."

"Thank you, yeah..." You place the blowdryer down, gently placing your hands on her waist, before lifting her onto the counter. She settles down, her eyes never leaving yours.

"I've always wanted to play an instrument." You confess, doing the same motions with the blowdryer on her dress. "Really? Which one?" she asks, biting down on her lips, her eyes still on you.

You pause for a moment, contemplating your answer. "I think I've always been drawn to the guitar," you finally reply, meeting her eyes.

"Acoustic or electric?" she asks, a small smile forming on her lips. "Acoustic for sure. But I can't sing for shit, so no one-man band for me," you chuckle, causing her smile to widen.

"Well, who needs vocals when you can make the guitar sing?" she teases playfully, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?" Olivia inquires, her curiosity evident in her tone. "I'm a real estate agent, believe it or not."

"It's not as glamorous as being a musician, but it pays the bills," you say with a shrug. Olivia nods understandingly, her smile still present. "Do you wear a suit to work?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes," you reply with a smirk. "But most days, I prefer a more casual and comfortable look. I can't distract my clients with how good I look in a suit, you know?"

Olivia laughs and leans in, placing a hand on your forearm. "So, what's the most interesting property you've ever sold?" she asks.

"Well," you begin, "I once sold a mansion to Central Cee, you know, the UK rapper? He had some specific requests for the interior design, including a home studio and a custom-built gaming room. It was definitely a unique and exciting project to work on," you explain, reminiscing about the experience.

Olivia's eyes widen with intrigue as she listens attentively. "Is he the most famous client you've ever had?"

"Actually, no. I didn't directly sell a house to Drake, but I did have the opportunity to assist in finding him a property. And this was a while ago, maybe when he dropped that one Keke song."

Olivia's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Wow, why is that actually kind of cool?' You chuckle, turning off the blowdryer and setting it down on the counter. "Well, it was definitely a unique experience. It's not every day you get to work with someone as well-known as Drake."

Olivia nods. "I can only imagine what it must have been like. Did you get to meet him in person?"  

You smile and reply, "Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to meet him face-to-face. However, I did communicate with his team throughout the process and ensure that his preferences and requirements were met."

You let out a sigh, saying, "If you ever need to find property in the future, let me know." Olivia smiles, nodding her head. "Of course, I wouldn't want anyone else. I don't think all real estate agents help their future clients dry off their dresses when the bartender spills a drink on them." She chuckles, patting her dress to see if it was dry.

"I guess that's just one of the many perks of having a dedicated real estate agent like me," you reply with a wink. Olivia opens her mouth to speak, but knocking on the door interrupts her.

"You guys done in there? We've been waiting for ages!" a voice calls from outside. Olivia and you exchange amused glances before you reply, "Just a moment! We'll be right out."

"Here, I'll help you down." You stand in between Olivia's legs, placing your hands on her waist to support her as she steps down from the countertop.

Olivia's face flushes slightly as she looks up at you, grateful for your assistance. "Thank you," she says softly, moving a hair strand out of her face.

You smile at Olivia and give her a reassuring nod. "No problem at all," you respond, feeling a warm connection between the two of you. You can't help but notice how her hand lingers on your arm for a brief moment before she lets go.

You begin walking towards the door, opening it for Olivia to exit first. A messy-haired boy quickly rushes past the two of you, "Sorry, I have to shit!" he exclaims, nearly knocking Olivia over.

She stumbles slightly but regains her balance with your support. You exchange a knowing glance with Olivia, bursting into laughter at the unexpected interruption.

As the laughter subsides, Olivia thanks you for catching her and playfully nudges your arm. "It was nice meeting you, Olivia." You say, returning the playful nudge.

You give her one last glance before walking towards the flight of stairs. "Wait!" Olivia calls out, causing you to turn around. "Can I have your number? I'd love to keep in touch," Olivia asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice. You smile and reach for your phone, exchanging numbers with her.

Olivia pulls you into a hug, surprising you. You hesitate before returning the hug, wrapping your arm tightly around her waist. You pull away, your hands slightly lingering on her waist. "Don't be a stranger," you say, giving her a warm smile. Olivia returns the smile, nodding.

With a final wave, you turn and continue down the stairs, already looking forward to the next time you'll see each other.

#tonyspank #reader insert #wattpad #olivia rodrigo #olivia rodrigo x reader #olivia rodrigo guts #olivia rodrigo sour #olivia x reader #olivia rodrigo x gn!reader #olivia rodrigo x fem!reader #olivia rodrigo x male!reader #actors #celebrities #sour album #guts album #guts olivia rodrigo #reader x celebrity #olivia rodrigo vampire #livies #teenage dream #olivia rodrigo imagines

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws

Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and I’m a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, I’ve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. I’ve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!

Check out Camber’s interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I’ve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become “serious” about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.

How has your style developed over the years?

As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, I’ve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes you’ve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazaki’s work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, I’ve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! I’ve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I haven’t stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I’ve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether that’s 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I don’t have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! I’ve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldn’t ask for more as an artist!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that’s personal or truthful to your own experiences?

I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered “good.” I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. That’s not to say technical skill doesn’t matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!

Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you haven’t seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camber’s work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #camberdraws

[baileypie-writes]

💕🩷hello ! I wanted to ask if you could possibly do more velvet and venner with a younger sibling?

Ok so how will velvet and venner react to their younger sibling (who was born with actual talent of singing) being use by another famous singer just as they use the trolls to become famous, like, the singer is stealing the younger sibling's talent to have a beautiful voice and keep getting famous and the younger sibling is becoming pale and weak (just as Floyd was) and maybe velvet and venner getting along with the trolls to save their younger sibling.

Hope you could understand, sorry if I'm sending this in the wrong time. Take your time and hope you could do it, if not then it's completely ok!

A/N ~ Omg, I love this idea! I decided to make this into multiple parts, since one would be too long. Part 2 should be out pretty soon. Hope you enjoy!

~I Want to Break Free~

Velvet and Veneer + Younger Sibling!Reader

Part 2 here!

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Relationship: Familial

Synopsis: Velvet and Veneer find out that your talent is being stolen by a famous singer. So they team up with the trolls to save their little sibling.

Warnings: Reader being tortured(not detailed/graphic), cringe

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

Veneer noticed it first. You were pale, and seemed weaker. He told Velvet, and both were concerned. Of course they asked you what was wrong, but you just claimed that you were tired.

This wasn’t exactly a lie. You were very tired. But the reason why is what you couldn’t tell your siblings.

You were born with a natural singing talent, unlike Velvet and Veneer. You always viewed this skill as a blessing. But for the past week, you wish you didn’t have it.

~~~

It all started when you posted a video of yourself singing a song by your favorite artist, Lemon Pop, on the internet. You went viral, and even got noticed by her. You were lucky enough to meet her in real life, and you even thought you became friends. Unfortunately, you were very wrong.

Lemon Pop was a fraud, just like your siblings were. She was inspired by how they stole the talent of trolls, and wanted to do the same. But after using a troll, she decided that it wasn’t enough for her. So after she saw your video, she knew immediately that she wanted your talent. She lured you in with her friendly facade, and when she finally had you close, she let her real personality shine. She’s a rude, manipulative and straight up abusive person. Way worse than how Velvet was in her glory days.

She forces you to attend all her performances, and stealing your talent before going on stage. She always threatens to ruin your life if you refuse or tell anyone. So not knowing what else to do, you play the role as her friend.

It’s so painful when everyone calls you lucky. You’d think that being best friends with a pop star would be the greatest thing in the world. But after feeling your talent leave your body in a painful, exhausting process for what felt like the millionth time, you wish you’d never posted that video of you singing.

~~~

“Where’s (name)?” Veneer asked.

“They’re with that ‘Lemon Pop’ girl again.” Velvet responded. Almost like that summoned her, the channel that was playing on the TV started mentioning her.

“Once again, Lemon Pop’s song is at the top of the music charts!” The announcer stated. It went on to show a clip of Lemon Pop receiving an award. You were there in the background, but anyone who knew you could tell that you were not well.

“Did (name) dye their hair?” Veneer asked.

“Uh, I don’t think so. Why?” Velvet responded.

“Because there’s some white in it.”

Velvet turned to the TV, and saw that he was correct. But your hair wasn’t the only odd thing about you. You looked exhausted, way worse than you seemed before. And for some reason, you were wearing long sleeves, long pants and gloves. It was warm in Mount Rageous, so your outfit was strange. Even more so, because you were visibly sweating a lot.

Before Velvet and Veneer could question your state to each other, loud knocking could be heard from outside their window, followed by a familiar voice.

“Velvet! Veneer! It’s us, Brozone!”

They thought they’d never see those faces again. It was the trolls. The ones that ruined their careers, and sent them to prison. They were banging on the window frantically.

Velvet stomped over to them. “What the hell are you doing here? Come to ruin our lives again?” She spat.

“Ah, Velvet. That was our fault. We tortured some of them, remember?” Veneer placed a hand on her shoulder, attempting to calm her down.

“I know I remember…” Floyd mumbled.

“Whatever! What do you want?” Velvet slapped her brother’s hand away.

A small, weak troll suddenly emerged from the group. Their hands and feet were sparkly and transparent, and they had a large ponytail of previously red hair, which was now mostly white. “It’s about your sibling, (name).”

Velvet and Veneer’s eyes softened, and their expressions changed to ones of worry. “What about them?” Asked Velvet, defensively.

“What you did to Floyd… they’re going through the same thing.” The troll said.

The twins looked at each other, then back at them. “What? What do you mean? Who even are you?” Velvet snapped.

The troll sighed. “I’m Rosetta. I used to be Lemon Pop’s prisoner. She stole my singing talent, just like you did to Floyd. But I wasn’t enough for her. So she tricked (name) into becoming friends, so she could steal their’s instead. I got Brozone to help me find you, and get you to help them.”

Velvet and Veneer were speechless. They looked back at the TV. You were still visible in the background. Now your appearance made sense. They looked at Lemon Pop, smiling and waving to all their fans. And even though they did the same thing she was doing, they couldn’t help but be pissed. You were their sibling, and she was torturing you.

They turned back to Rosetta, pure rage clear on their faces.

“Let’s go save them.”

(To be continued…)

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

~~baileypie-writes

#trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 #trolls 3 x reader #trolls 3 velvet #trolls 3 veneer #trolls velvet #trolls veneer #velvet #veneer #velvet and veneer #velvet x reader #veneer x reader #velvet x gender neutral reader #veneer x gender neutral reader #velvet x reader platonic #veneer x reader platonic

[firstfullmoon]

SOLMAZ SHARIF: I was recently reminded of a story of a political prisoner—I don’t know if I want to share this. . . This political prisoner, who had been convicted and was facing the death penalty, was in a large cell with about twenty other political prisoners. Periodically, the guards would come and call one of their names and take that person out to be executed. When this political prisoner’s name was called, the prisoner stood up and started singing “The Internationale.” The whole cell sang along, and that was their farewell. But when the prisoner went into the hallway, the guards told them that they weren’t going to the gallows. They were being transferred to a different prison. The guards took them to the latrine, and while the prisoner was in there, they realized they wouldn’t have wanted “The Internationale” to be their last song, and started reciting a poem by, I believe, Hafez from memory.

For me, the why of poetry has become the reason revolution must happen to begin with. It’s no longer the conditions that make revolution inevitable, but what’s waiting for us on the other side of it. That required me to be more vulnerable—removing the conceptual frame was an act of that allowed vulnerability. . .

ALINA STEFANESCU: That reminds me of how my parents made me memorize poetry. They said: If you find yourself in prison, if you lose your home, family, livelihood, everything, the poems you remember will keep you whole. At the end of the day, alone in a cell, no one can steal the stanzas you remembered. The recitation itself is a radical act of refusal. Maybe poems sustain the hope and selfhood that carceral systems aim to extinguish.

SOLMAZ SHARIF: I love that. I was reminded of poetry’s capacities at the beginning of the pandemic. When lockdown started, some of my artist friends who work in other mediums suddenly couldn’t do any work. I remembered, for readers a poem is something you can carry with you anywhere, and for poets, writing a poem is an action that you can undertake anywhere. You don’t need physical materials. I hadn’t decided to turn my attention toward those qualities, however; I was forced to. My idea of poetry is tied inextricably to my early understanding of carcerality and war—both of which evaporate all that seems solid. And poetry seems especially able to survive these things. I bristle at the word hope, but the poem’s scrappy thereness is enough for me. In an interview late in his life, Mahmoud Darwish says, “poetry changes only the poet.” Some people understand that statement as pessimistic or cynical or jaded. Or maybe see it in line with Auden’s choppily quoted “poetry makes nothing happen”—a quote betrayed in the two words that follow: “it survives.” Auden is often quoted to fall neatly into that neoliberal ethical bypass of so much American literature. But I see the Darwish quote as honoring that even when a poem can’t be anything else, that it will be enough. I’m surprised by this turn in my own work, but the lived practice of poetry in my life made it inevitable.

— Solmaz Sharif and Alina Stefanescu, in conversation for BOMB Magazine

#maybe poems sustain the hope and selfhood that carceral systems aim to extinguish ! #w #interview #solmaz sharif #all beautiful poetry is an act of resistance

[mysingularitybts]

Put Your Records On

Pairing: Cat Hybrid!Yoongi x Human! F. Reader (you)

Genre: smut, fluff, strangers 2 lovers, hybrid!au, 18+

Appearances: Bunny!Jungkook, Fox!Jin, Human!Hoseok, Panther! Taehyung, Human! Jimin, Wolf! Namjoon

Word Count: ~30k

Warnings/tags: hybryd au! (there will be mentions of scenting, heats, and that sort of thing) let's start light with cursing, oral (f, m receiving), unprotected sex, creampies, light biting, breeding, fingering, m. masturbation, light voyeurism, oral (m2m), cum play, there's probably some other stuff i missed or simply refuse typing out here lol

a/n: this was supposed to be a small thing and then it evolved into what it is today (half plot half porn). i knew i was obsessed with kitty yoongi i just never realized i was this obsessed. this oneshot made me write things i never thought id write, it pushed me to my limits but I'm pretty proud of it. i hope you guys like it... there is so much smut also grammarly is a pain in my ass

○●○●○●○●○●

Like every morning for the past seven years, Yoongi walks to work with hands in his pockets and earbuds in his ears. The music blasting out of them does nothing to dampen the city noise as the extra pair of ears at the top of his head catches them. One of the downsides of being a hybrid, a cat one, to be precise.

Like every morning, he stops in front of a tall, glass-lined building that glimmers under the rising sun, and as always, he curses it out in his head (or under his breath) for ruining his dream. The same one that began when he first learned the purpose of the building. To become a music producer. He scowls at it for a whole minute before continuing to his destination. A minute a day is all the time he allows himself to rain on his parade.

He proceeds to walk to the small music shop tucked between a coffee shop and a comic book store. He unlocks the door fitfully, having to jiggle the keys expertly. There’s no chance of anyone stealing from the store when he can barely open the door himself. Turning on the stereo with the music of a new upcoming artist, he organizes anything he might’ve left out of place the night before and cleans the counters.

It’s become a routine for Yoongi to wake up, scowl at the glass building, go to work, endure people’s discrimination towards hybrids, close the store, go home, and go to sleep. He’s gotten so used to the repetition that when he has free time on Sundays, he feels at a loss on what to do. He’s tried opening the store those days, but then Lee, the closest thing to a father figure he has, would just get mad at him for not resting.

It’s not unusual for him to get new customers. Still, they are always the same sort of people, music students or hipsters who want to try and be cool with their indie music. Today though, he feels something change when a blue-haired girl walks into the store for the first time. The bell jingles at the top of the door as you walk in, looking around the store before beelining to the aisle labeled ‘vinyl.’ Yoongi follows you with his eyes as his tail swishes behind him in curiosity.

You’d heard of this store from a co-worker and thought it would be the perfect place to find a gift for your brother, who’s recently started a vinyl collection. You rummage through the bins trying to find anything he might like but what you see is barely anything you’ve heard of before.

Yoongi stares at you without approaching you; he usually lets the customer decide if they need help. He’s lost count of how many times people have told him they don’t need the help of a hybrid. But as you move into the third bin of vinyl out of the few dozen in the store, he decides to make a move, or you’ll be here for hours.

“What are you looking for?” he asks straight to the point.

You look up, startled, not having heard him approach you. You can’t help but stare, not because he’s a hybrid but because he must be one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life. Yoongi doesn’t take it that way, as he believes you’re judging him for what he is. Instantly his cat ears pin back, and his eyes narrow.

“Well?” He prompts rudely.

“Sorry, um…Yoongi.” You say, squinting to read his name tag, “I’m looking for a vinyl for my brother as a birthday gift.” You look at him nervously as you feel him judge your entire being, wishing you had worn more makeup today and not stained your sweater during lunch.

“Anything in specific you’re searching for? What is his music taste?” Yoongi asks, bored.

“He likes electro-pop.”

Yoongi nods and directs you further down the aisle, he organized the bins himself, and you were looking in all the wrong places. You should've noticed the signs hanging above the bins designating the music genre.

“You were searching in the jazz area. This is electro-pop,” Yoongi points out.

Blushing at your stupidity, you thank him and continue to search for a good artist your brother will like. Yoongi hums in acknowledgment and makes his way back to the cash register, waiting for you to finish and ringing out other customers.

As you shift through the albums, you look up occasionally to look at the hybrid called Yoongi. He sits on a wooden stool, staring out the window. The sun hits his pale face, making him look ethereal. If she was braver, she’d ask him out, but she knows there’s no way he’d like her back. He certainly didn’t show it when he helped her.

Finally, seeing more artists you recognize, you settle on two vinyls for your gift. You walk around the store seeing as it’s your first time in it, and you stop to look at accessories for production closer to the counter. Your eyes roam the equipment, and your hand urges you to touch it. You hold back because you don’t need anything right now. Wanting and needing are two different things you need to be conscious about.

Carefully placing the vinyls on the counter, you wait for Yoongi to ring the items up. He barely looks at you as he tells you the total. That’s okay, though, as it allows you to stare at him more discreetly; you are in awe of this man with his glossy dark hair and pink pout. How could you have formed a crush on a man who has only spoken five words to you?

Yoongi looks up at the lack of response, only to find you staring at him. He frowns deeply, disturbed by the situation. Her staring differs from the people who point at his ears or make off-hand comments, yet he can’t point out why.

“Hello?” He snaps to call her attention.

“Sorry,” you flinch, a blush covering your cheeks, contrasting the blue in your hair.

“Hope you’re brother likes them,” Yoongi tells her, putting both records in a bag.

“Thanks, me too,” you stutter out with a smile.

You promptly pay and leave the store. Outside you slap yourself on the forehead for being so awkward in the presence of Yoongi. Caught up reprimanding yourself, you fail to notice Yoongi staring at you from the window with a quirk on his lips.

Yoongi thinks you’re a little odd but pays you no mind. He believed you’d be more confident with hair like yours, in reality, you’re a little ditsy. It’s cute. You smelled good, too, not that he meant to smell you, but it’s hard not to with his heightened sense of smell. You smelled like chocolates and something florally yet not overwhelming.

To a hybrid, scents are everything they can tell a lot about a person, although sometimes they can be misled. Their smells can sense a person’s mood and overall persona. A handy thing to have when dealing with people who constantly discriminate against hybrids. Times might have changed, and hybrids might have their freedom now, but it can’t erase years of slavery and mistreatment.

○●○●○●○●○●

You keep returning to the store for the next month just to see Yoongi. You didn't know it back then, but now you know he's the only one that works in the store. At first, you would buy little things to have excuses to go there, then you started to leave empty-handed happy to have seen your 'kitty cat' as you've nicknamed him in your head. At around the third week of returning, he asked for your name. You stuttered it out as his response surprised you.

"That name doesn't suit you," he said, staring at you fixedly, "I'll just call you Blue."

"Very creative, Yoongi," you laugh, rolling your eyes.

And while Yoongi is unemotional, most of the time, you've been learning how to read him. A flick of his cat ears, the swishing of his tail, the way his nose scrunches up unbeknownst to him, or the way his mouth quirks up at the side. It all means different things, and you're starting to catch up, so when he sighs, shaking his head at your words, you know he's amused.

Yoongi has gotten used to seeing you every week. Unlike many of his customers, he'd greet you with a 'good morning' and send you off with a 'careful on the way home.' When you don't come to the store in more than a week, he finds himself worried, and as another week ends with no signs of you, he becomes slightly upset. Maybe he did something to upset you. He wants to know if you are okay or if there is anything wrong, but he comes up empty-handed.

He spends his Sunday sulking in his apartment. When he visits Lee, the old man notices instantly. He is delighted Yoongi is like this over a girl. He's been waiting too long for his boy to open up and get a girlfriend. Yoongi shuts it down almost instantly and clears up that you're only a customer. A friendly customer…

Monday morning bright and early, the bell of the shop jingles, and your scent wafts to Yoongi's nose, who is in the back getting more stock. He leaves the boxes behind as he rushes to the front. "Morning, Yoongi," you greet him with a bright smile.

"You didn't come last week, Blue," Yoongi frowns, his pout very apparent and his ears twitching in annoyance, "I was worried."

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologize," I was out of town."

You hate to admit that you are happy he noticed your absence. Yoongi considers you a friend! Now you have to fulfill the promise you made to yourself. This is the perfect opportunity to ask him out. If he was worried about you, it meant he cared! If only a little.

"How about I make it up to you?" You ask slowly, looking up at him with hope in your eyes. For an extra measure, you use the advice of a friend and put your hair behind your ear to seem cuter.

"And how are you going to do that?" He asks stoically, crossing his arms.

"Let me take you out to this coffee shop on Sunday. They have local artists playing music. And before you say no because of the shop, I know it's your day off," You rush through your words before he rejects the idea.

Yoongi is surprised at your idea of making it up to him, and it shows on his face. He's unsure of what to say but gauging the fact he spent his Sunday worrying over nothing, he accepts. "Alright, you're paying, though."

"Yeah, of course!" You say excitedly, which gets Yoongi smiling.

Despite seeing each other for many weeks, you hadn't had a reason to exchange numbers until now. He writes his phone number on your phone, and you can't resist having his contact as 'Kitty Cat,' not that he notices. If he did, you were sure he would be dramatic about it. Opening the camera app, you tell him to smile, it takes a few tries, but eventually, he settles and shoots the camera a half smile.

Yoongi does the same with you. After writing down your number, he assigns the contact as 'Blue' and snaps a picture of you. Only he didn't ask you to smile; he only called your name and snapped it. You beg him to change it, but he laughs and shoots down the idea. The picture he took got your essence to a tee. While you thought it was atrocious, he thought you looked cute with the wide-eyed stare and everlasting smile on your face. Your messy baby hairs and fluffy sweater only added to your charm.

That Sunday, Yoongi waits for you by the train station. He bites his nails as he waits, a nervous habit he can never get rid of. After accepting going out with you, he began wondering if this was a date. You never specified what it was for you. Yoongi has noticed your stares and how you hang on to every word he says. He also might've heard you speaking about him on the phone outside the store about how cute he was and how he made you giddy.

He's never really been in a relationship, and he's not sure he wants one, either. It's not like he's never been attracted to someone or had his flings, but they've all been with other hybrids, not a full human. He believes he knows you and you have the best intentions, but he's guarded. In the past, he's dealt with humans that are great at first until their true colors show, and they turn into the worst. It's hard getting over his trauma.

With lots of second thoughts, Yoongi is about to bolt from the train station. His fight or flight kicked in over the whole situation. It's one thing to see you around the store, but everything will change once he breaks the barrier and starts seeing you outside of it.

It's too late as you spot him in the train station and wave at him. "Hey, Yoongi!" You chirp, giving him a hug in greeting.

"Are you okay?" You place a hand on his shoulder. You noticed when you were nearing him that he was tense and fidgety. His tail is flat against his body, unlike how it usually swishes around him. Maybe he's not feeling up to the plans for today.

"All good, lead the way!" He responds with a nod and a small smile.

Yoongi is uncomfortable as you walk side by side on the sidewalk. The coffee shop is on the other side of town, in a nicer part of town, to be exact. As a teenager, he never had a great experience in these places where people with money think they can ask for anything with the right amount of money from a poor homeless hybrid. The sad part is sometimes he was so desperate that he agreed to their requests. He's not proud, but he did what he had to survive, and now he's in a better place.

The coffee place barely resembles a coffee place. Inside are tables gathered around a small stage; where the coffee usually sits, there is alcohol instead. When Yoongi points it out, you mention that it's a fully functioning coffee place during the day, and at night it shifts to a speakeasy.

"Where would you like to sit?" You ask Yoongi sweetly, thinking about the speakers that might bother him if you sit too close.

"Over here is okay," Yoongi says, leading you to a table near the back.

You notice the speakers don't point directly at the table. You're proud of yourself for thinking about his heightened sense of hearing. There is silence when you sit at the table. Internally, you're banging your head against the table for not thinking of something to talk about ahead of time. You want to talk to him and get to know him. How do you start, though?

Yoongi, on the other hand, is perfectly happy in the silence. He's never felt the need to make unnecessary conversations. After inspecting the room, he looks at you. You look beautiful today. Your blue hair is nicely curled, with little strands framing your face. You're wearing a fluffy blue sweater that fades into white and pink that begs him to touch it and a black mini skirt. Overall, very cute. He tried to say it while you walked to the coffee shop, but his mouth didn't cooperate, leading him down a different route.

There was a question burning his tongue. A matter of what situation they are in right now. It all started as a way to make it up to him, but he can't help but feel there's more to it. Although he thought of running before, he's concluded that a date would be okay. He's in control of his life now, and if he wants something to stop, he can say it.

"Blue?" He breaks the silence; you had been looking at the stage where the first performer was setting up.

"Yes?" You smile at him gently, waiting for his question. He loved that about you, just how patient and soft you are.

"What is this?" he asks, pointing his finger between the two of you. Upon noticing your confusion, he adds, "Is this a date or just an outing of two friends?"

Your cheeks instantly flare up. Maybe you hadn't made it as obvious as you thought, "I was hoping this would be a date."

Yoongi nods at your words and gives you a small smile, "I was too."

A waiter eventually approaches the table, taking both of your drink orders. A casual conversation then erupts between the two of you. You learn that he's been working at the store for nearly ten years. In exchange, you talk about one of your hobbies, photography.

"I never asked but did your brother like the vinyl?" Yoongi wonders, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"He loved them. Turns out I know his taste pretty well," you giggle, remembering your brother's excitement over the records. He had all but jumped into your arms in a big hug. "He mentioned visiting the store one of these days to get more."

"Does he live around the area?"

"Yes! He's currently in the university nearby," You chirp, mixing your cocktail. Your foundation may hide most of your imperfections, but it can't hide the flush of the alcohol.

"Good for him," Yoongi replies in surprise. That's one expensive and prestigious university. It makes him wonder about your family and what they do; he refrains. That's a subject for another day.

Yoongi had misjudged the coffee shop earlier. He thought the performers would be pretentious people who thought they knew about music. He'd also thought they would all be humans. But as the performers go on, he notices most of them are hybrids, and the people at the tables around them are too. "How did you find this place?"

"One of my friends works here, and the other will perform later."

Jung Hoseok is one of your great friends. You two used to work together until he decided he needed a break from everything some months ago. Next thing you know, he's managing a coffee shop and hosting music shows.

"Actually, I think I see him now," you say, waving your hand delicately toward Hoseok. Yoongi looks in his direction and sees a handsome man with a bright smile. It makes him insecure.

"I'm so glad you're here, sweetheart," Hoseok exclaims, approaching the table and leaning down to hug you, "Who is this?" He asks with a twinkle in his eyes. Hoseok had already heard everything about the cute, brooding hybrid cat.

"This is, Yoongi, my date," you say, "Yoongi, this is Hoseok, the friend I just told you about."

"Nice to meet you." Yoongi shakes the man's hand firmly.

"Don't forget about me," a deep voice says from behind Hoseok.

If Yoongi thought Hoseok was handsome, he is at a loss for words to describe the man or, rather, the hybrid that pops up beside him. The panther hybrid swoops in to hug you, too, whispering in your ear how gorgeous you look. It angers Yoongi that he couldn't say it beforehand because it means he is not the reason for the blooming blush that covered most of your face and neck.

"This is Taehyung," Hoseok introduces the panther hybrid, "Tae, this is her date, Yoongi."

Hoseok and Taehyung try very hard to hide their curiosity and glee. They've wanted to meet Yoongi for weeks, so they were ecstatic when you told them you'd bring him around. They were spying on you from the back, where Taehyung was using his heightened hearing to translate your conversation.

"You're going to perform tonight?" Yoongi asks the panther.

"It's my first time. I'm a little nervous," Taehyung responds, fidgeting with his hands.

"You'll be okay; you've practiced so much," You reassure him, reaching for his hand.

"Thanks, honey," Tae smiles at you.

"We'll leave you two to your date. I gotta go present the next performer," Hoseok says, pulling Tae away from the table, whispering in his ear to tone it down before he scares Yoongi away.

Yoongi finds them both pleasant, even if Taehyung is touchy with you. It's like there was something between the two of you. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, though, so he ignores it for now.

As another performer finishes, you stand from the table, "I need to speak to Hoseok for a moment. Is that okay?"

"Of course."

His eyes follow you discreetly, watching as you speak to Hoseok. It appears as if the conversation is serious as Hoseok's smile drops. Yoongi focuses as much as he can on listening to the conversation, but it's hard when the new singer on the stage picks up the ante and strums the guitar louder. He can make out your lips as you say 'please,' but Hoseok only shakes his head no and says what Yoongi believes is an apology.

When you return, you smile at him as if nothing has happened. The rest of the show plays out. You pay as promised and head out into the cold night. Yoongi wants to bring up your conversation with Hoseok, but that's not his place. Besides, it seemed like it troubled you, and he didn't want to ruin the night.

"Did you like the show?"

"It was great; truth be told, I wasn't expecting to see as many hybrids," Yoongi confesses, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"The owner is very pro-hybrid. It's one of the few places around here that are like that. I thought you'd like it, considering you always have the little stand on your counter." You refer to the local artists' tapes he keeps on the checkout counter; every week, he has a new one on display. You're unsure where he finds them, but you appreciate it as it helps you find new artists.

"I did, thank you," Yoongi smiles down at you and notices how you rub your hands together to warm them up. "Are you cold?" He doesn't wait for your answer as he takes your hands in his to warm them.

"How are you so warm?" You giggle.

"It's a hybrid thing," he mutters, a bit embarrassed. He's always been insecure about the things that make him a hybrid.

"I wish I was always that warm. My hands are always cold," you cutely pout.

Feeling brave, Yoongi says, "I can keep them warm."

You nod appreciatively, afraid of your voice betraying you. You walk the rest of the way hand in hand, and when you arrive at your departing point, you kiss his cheek. "For an amazing night."

"Will I see you at the store?" He asks shyly.

"Definitely."

○●○●○●○●○●

Time with Yoongi goes by so quickly. As promised, you return to the store, and Yoongi invites you out on another date in exchange. Your relationship progressed as the leaves began changing color. You didn't visit the store as much anymore as you visited each other's home. You were no longer the cute ditsy customer but the girlfriend.

You're so lucky to have Yoongi; he's much more than the grumpy cat you met. He's funny and extremely affectionate (in private, of course). It took you by surprise the first time he lay in your lap and asked you to touch his ears. You know it's a big no-no to touch a stranger's animal ears, but then again, you were no longer strangers. As you had your internal debate, Yoongi lay there with eyes closed, waiting for you. Silently praying you wouldn't be put off by it, his doubt was put to rest when you began softly stroking his pointy cat ears.

"Finally," he muttered, sinking further into your lap.

"Have you ever heard the saying good things come to those who wait?" You sass at him. Yoongi instantly relaxes, releasing a sigh of pleasure. You're weak for him, though, as your fingers brush through his hair and rub the base of his ears. He doesn't answer your question; instead, he falls asleep on you.

You're not sure if it's a Yoongi or a cat thing, but he loves his naps. Nine times out of ten, whether you're at his apartment or yours, Yoongi will nap for a few minutes, more if you're rubbing his ears. A trait you know comes from his cat side is looking for a spot in the house where the sun hits just right. You first noticed it at the store, and you thought it was because that's where the cash register is. Then you learned he moved the register closer to the big window to sunbathe. In fact, his apartment is set up in a way where his couch is mainly illuminated by the sun.

Something that is definitely a hybrid thing is scenting. You often caught Yoongi touching you or rubbing his head against your neck, a clear sign of scenting. Another way he does it is by giving you his hoodies or t-shirts. He gets all smug whenever you leave his apartment with his clothes, and whenever you return with his hoodies, and his scent is all faded, he switches them out. He wants to make it known to other hybrids that you are his.

For playing the stoic, serious guy, Yoongi loves kisses. Tiny kisses, pecks on the lips, kisses on the cheek, forehead kisses, full-blown makeout sessions, any type of thing involving kisses, he is there. You're favorite thing, though, is making him purr while you kiss.

In the past, you learned that some cat hybrids can purr and others don't, genetic differences between them or whatever. One day you were straddling his lap in a heated makeout session (one he started) and discovered he's one of the ones that purr.

Startled, you pull back with swollen lips, "What was that?"

"Nothing," Yoongi says, trying to pull you back by the back of your neck into another kiss.

"Was that a purr, Yoongi?" You insist with a teasing smile on your lips.

Yoongi, embarrassed, denies it. Furrowing his eyebrows with a pout, he mumbles, "Don't be ridiculous."

You smile at him and kiss him hard, grinding against him, "Do it again."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yoongi moans, guiding your hips over his lap.

"Do. It. Again," you say in between kisses, "It felt amazing."

"It did?" Yoongi asks with a vulnerable look. He's always been somewhat embarrassed by his cat tendencies because he has had to hide them for many years. In his head, the more human he is, the better. It gives people less ammo when they decide to be rude.

"Mhm," you nod, swiping his lipstick-stained lips with your thumb. "Honestly, it's a turn-on," you whisper in his ear.

"You'll have to figure it out then 'cause I'm not telling you," Yoongi drawls, squeezing your hips.

"Let's get to it, then," You say seductively, kissing him again.

It takes you no more than ten minutes to figure out it's all in the hair. Whenever you pull the hair on the back of his neck, Yoongi purrs like there's no tomorrow. Minutes later, you make another discovery. The purrs are especially good when he's going down on you.

"Fuck, Yoongi," you moan, gripping his hair in your fist. It's a double-edged sword you have; you pull his hair due to the overwhelming pleasure, but it makes him purr even more.

There's no way for you to close your legs as Yoongi is settled right between them. He holds tightly to your thighs with one hand as he flicks your clit with his tongue and works two fingers into you. Neither of you is sure how you got into this position, but there are no complaints.

"I'm not sure if you want me to stop or not," Yoongi teases you with a smirk, leaving kisses over one of your thighs, although his fingers continue their assault. The sound of your wetness, along with your moans, resonates through the room.

"Don't even think about it, kitty cat," you respond, propping up on your elbows. Your head tilts back with a loud moan when Yoongi rubs against that spot.

Yoongi glares at the nickname and bites just where he kissed you. He detests the nickname, so he gets testy whenever you call him that. You whine at the momentary pain, but it turns you on even more.

"Forgot you were a pain slut," Yoongi says with all the intent in the world. He hates being called 'kitty cat,' and you hate the term 'pain slut.' Now you're even.

You glare, pushing him away and shuddering as his fingers leave you empty. Your skirt falls back into place as you sit back on the couch with a pout that's supposed to make you look angry. Yoongi holds back a laugh, knowing you love being dramatic. He moves into a sitting position and grabs your hand, pulling you into his lap, where you can perfectly feel his hard-on over his sweats. His sticky fingers are on your side, playfully squeezing you.

"Don't be so pissy. You know I'm joking," Yoongi chuckles, kissing your shoulder. His hands trail over your body, squeezing your clothed chest before delving between your thighs, but you remain emotionless.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Yoongi jokes, kissing the point in your neck that makes you ticklish.

"That's not funny," you scoff, trying to hide the smile dying to come out.

"You're right, it's not," Yoongi agrees, "I'm sorry, Blue." He props his head on your shoulder with a pout, despite your messy blue hair tickling his face.

"I'm sorry too," you say rather unwillingly, turning to him.

"That's my girl," Yoongi smiles, gripping your chin to kiss you.

You squeal when he stands up, taking you to the bedroom to finish what he started.

○●○●○●○●○●

One fall afternoon, you bring Yoongi lunch to the store. He received a big batch of inventory and missed his lunch hour. Your hours at work are flexible, so you stop by one of the restaurants near the store and pick up his favorite.

"Yoongs, I'm here," you call out, not seeing him by the register.

"Back here, Blue!" You only see his hand waving from behind a pile of boxes. You leave the food at the counter and go around the boxes to see him sitting on a small stool organizing the new batch of CDs.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you kiss his cheek. "Come eat before it gets cold."

"One second," he mutters, stacking the CDs in a neat pile before he stands.

"Hi," he smiles at you pecking your waiting lips. You walk back to the front of the store with his hand in yours.

You and Yoongi keep a pleasant conversation going as he eats and checks out customers simultaneously. Some clients come with questions you're more than happy to take care of. All the time you've spent at the store paying off. When he's finished and the store is empty of customers, he pulls you between his legs. Instantly, you know what he wants. It's his favorite thing in the world.

"Don't act so cocky," he murmurs against your lips.

"You're too cute." Your giggle is cut short by a kiss. Yoongi moves his lips expertly against yours, stealing your breath away. His arms keep you close to him, you also feel his tail by your side as if trying to curl around you.

A moan is heard through the empty store when Yoongi nips at your bottom lip. He smiles into the kiss, proud of himself. You're so reactive to his touch. He doesn't have to do much to get you like putty on his hands.

One of his palms sneaks under your shirt, meeting with the band of your bra. Yoongi's thumb brushes over the cup, teasing at how close he is. In turn, you find yourself palming him over his jeans. He's not fully hard, holding back if anyone walks into the store.

"Don't start something you can't finish," Yoongi tells you, kissing up and down your neck.

"We can flip that sign around and go to the back room," you pant as Yoongi leaves open-mouthed kisses against your jaw.

Yoongi is about to agree when the bell at the top of the door jingles obnoxiously. Jumping apart, you keep your distance. It's an older woman who barely spares a glance towards the two of you. She continues on her way, searching for whatever. 

You pout at Yoongi, who only shrugs, pecking your cheek. The woman then appears with an old cassette of an even older artist. Yoongi had those in the back of the store with a few cassette players. He says it's for the old music teachers who reject the artists of this generation. It's a business, and he needs something for everyone.

He rings her out and hands her the paper bag. The old woman looks between the two of you with an indignant look. "Honey, you can do so much better." She says with a frail voice filled with audacity.

Yoongi tenses beside you and is about to say something to the lady when you stop him, "What are you trying to say?" You ask in a daring tone. You need to know if this woman has the guts to voice her thoughts.

"That you can do so much better than a filthy hybrid. They are beneath us, just like any other animal would be. Why don't you find yourself a nice human boy to settle with?" She states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Yoongi sags at the woman's words. He's fine being humiliated alone but not in front of you. It's just a reality check that your situation is just a thing in passing. You'll never truly like him or see him as your equal.

"First of all, lady, I don't need a man or a hybrid to settle or take care of me. I can do that perfectly fine. Second, this man you want to say is beneath me is the most kindhearted, loving, hard-working man I've ever met. Not to mention he's the hottest too. Now take your old ass cassette and never come back." You don't scream or raise your voice. You talk in a steady dangerous tone, and by the end, you are leaning against the counter, facing the woman. 

She looks at you as if you've cursed her whole family. The moment you finish talking, she almost runs out of the store. Clearly, she hadn't expected that reaction. She probably wanted to rile Yoongi up to try and prove some stupid point she thinks she has about hybrids.

Turning to Yoongi, he's staring at you with a lustful look, "You really think that?"

"I do," you say, giving him the reassurance he desperately needs.

Yoongi steps around you, reaching for the sign on the door and turning it around to 'closed.' He grabs your hand when he returns, pulling you to the backroom. You barely get there when he pushes you against the door, kissing you feverishly. The way you stood up to the woman and defended him got Yoongi fired up.

"I fucking adore you," he gruffs before smashing his lips on yours. 

He kisses you bruisingly hard, pouring all of his feelings into it. You reciprocate his eagerness, folding your arms around his neck. You didn't realize that defending Yoongi almost made him say those three little words. He's conscious it's far too soon for that, and maybe the heat of the moment made him think of them. Still, he needs to get the 'I love you' out of his system somehow, and what better way than fucking you in his back room. 

"All this because I spoke up?" You giggle between kisses though it's interrupted by Yoongi sneaking his tongue into your mouth. 

Yoongi is in a frenzy, squeezing any part of your body he can reach; your thighs, your ass, your arms, your back, your chest. He needs to feel you close, closer than ever before. With each touch, you moan into his mouth. If he didn't love kissing you so much, he'd allow himself to listen to them. 

When you and Yoongi have sex, you always get on your knees first. You enjoy watching him struggle and get all flustered. His fingers knotting in your hair to get what he wants, making him believe he's the one in control. What can you say other than you find pleasure in giving him head? 

It works out because as giving as Yoongi is behind closed doors, he's a selfish lover. He is quick to take what he wants from you; your hands, your breasts, your mouth, your cunt. You get pleasure along the way, he draws orgasm after orgasm from you, but it's all a ruse as he gets the most out of it. Whether it's your taste, your touch, or your mellifluous voice chanting his name. You make him feel victorious. 

Today though, the roles are reversed as Yoongi breaks the kiss and drops to his knees. It's all about you at this moment; you've given him enough pleasure by defending him. You're lost in the moment; you don't question Yoongi's behavior. For you, this was just another horny adventure between the two of you. 

The kneeling cat hybrid bunches the skirt up to your hips and pulls your panties down your legs in one swift movement. His actions are firm yet careful. Decided. He hasn't even touched you, and yet you're breathing heavily. Yoongi leaves wet kisses from your stomach down to your mound. Grabbing your leg, he props it over his shoulder, giving him perfect access to your center. 

It's no secret you are wet. You have been from the moment Yoongi teased you earlier. Your body is somehow always ready for him. It doesn't help that you found everything he does sexy. Your breath hitches when his tongue licks a stripe from your opening to your clit, brushing over it with precise pressure. 

Your fist finds its place in his hair, right between his cat ears. You buck your hips with each lick and suck, Yoongi's name falling from your lips. He only keeps his eyes trained on your flushed face and swollen lips. His grip on your thighs keeps you grounded as they clench each time you close your eyes for too long. Yoongi needs you to see him worshiping you on his knees. 

It's a vicious pattern that Yoongi sticks to. Flicking your clit, fucking you with his tongue, nipping your thighs. It's enough and too much all at once. You'd be on the floor if it wasn't for the wall behind you.  

Yoongi's feline-like eyes indicate he is enjoying this as they reflect his playfulness. Your heel digging into his back and your thighs tightening around him betray you, giving it away that you're close. Not like you were hiding it as curses left your lips. 

Keeping a steady rhythm, he brings you to the edge and over the cliff. A selfless act 'cause if it were up to him, he'd edge you until you were begging and weeping. Your juices drip like a stream, and he acts like a man who spent the last year in the desert. Not a drop goes to waste. 

Only when you lightly nudge him back does Yoongi stand from the floor. His grip on you does not ease as he stabilizes your swaying form. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you're weak in the knees. 

"Fucking delicious," Yoongi purrs as he shares your taste with a kiss. Fear overtakes him at the thought of never savoring you again. There's no one as addicting as you, so sweet and intoxicating. 

You grab onto his shirt, tilting your head to kiss him deeply. It's then that you feel his hard cock pressing against you. Poor kitty is being so good to you. Usually, he would've complained by now.  

Yoongi breathes into your ear as if on cue, "I need you, Blue."  

"You have me, Yoongi," you reassure him, pulling his clothes, desperate to get them off. 

You unbuckle Yoongi's belt and pop the button off his pants, digging your hand underneath to grip his cock. He is warm and heavy on your palm. Yoongi releases a throaty moan as you pump his cock, squeezing him lightly. 

You kiss the column of his throat as he throws his head back in pleasure. Releasing him momentarily, you take off your sweater, making you hot and sweaty. Running out of patience, Yoongi pulls the cups of your bra down. 

He turns you around by grabbing you by the shoulders. You brace your hands against the wall. From behind, Yoongi fondles your breast, pinching your pebbled nipples. He pecks your naked shoulder, biting when he ruts against your ass. 

"I can't hold it anymore," Yoongi groans.

"Fuck me, Yoongi," you whine, arching your back and lifting up your skirt. 

Yoongi spreads one of his hands on your upper back, forcing you to lean forward. With the other, he grabs his member, teasing you with the tip. Your arousal coats him instantly, and with one swift thrust, he forces his cock into you. 

Both of you moan in unison. The pace is slow at first until Yoongi starts thrusting faster and harder. His grip is tight around your waist; you wouldn't be surprised to find marks there later. You remove one of the hands from the wall to find Yoongi's. He holds it against your waist, squeezing it every so often. His groans are like music to your ears. The way his voice gets deeper and raspy, you could cum just by hearing him speak. 

Your walls feel so good around him. You'd tighten around him every so often; it would make him falter. The more you tense around him, the closer he gets. He pulls your back to him, so you're pressed against him. Yoongi buries his head on your neck, breathing in your sweet scent and a hand between your legs. He clumsily rubs your clit, making you climax in no time. It's perfect as the waves of pleasure push him to spill into your warm pussy. 

There's a moment where you both stay in that same position, catching your breath. Yoongi is inside you, his head on your neck, arms wrapped around your stomach. You hold onto him as best as you can with your eyes closed. He's so close to saying, 'I love you,' but fear of rejection stops him. He could live without you knowing but not without you. 

You shudder when he slips out of you. If it were up to him, he'd take you home and do it all over again, but you're expected back at work. Yoongi quickly helps you clean up and find your clothes strewn around the back room. Which is easier said than done. 

"Shit, I have to go," you exclaim after reading a text. 

"What happened?" Yoongi asks, handing you your sweater that had been covering a lamp. 

"I have a meeting in half an hour," you mumble, putting on your sweater. 

You rush out of the music store with a quick look in the mirror and sore legs. Your colleague is waiting for you when you open your office door. When you sit on your chair, you realize something is off. 

You don't have any panties on. Yoongi, that fucking sneaky cat must've kept them. 

    ○●○●○●○●○●

It had been a long week for you, with many deadlines and projects. Yoongi knows how hard you push yourself, so he worries when he calls to see how your day is and doesn't receive the response he usually gets. Something is wrong with you; that's all Yoongi knows. Yoongi changes quickly and gets takeout knowing you probably still need to eat.

He arrives at your apartment in record time, pulling out the key from his pocket to unlock your door. Yoongi has been spending so much time with you, you thought it would be easier if he had a key to your place. A week later, he gave you a key to his place. It was only fair.

He searches the familiar apartment, trying to find you, but you're not there. You're home, though, as your keys hand from the hook and your comforting scent welcomes him. He knocks on your bedroom door, and slowly, he opens the door. You're not on the bed, but that's when he sees the light coming from the bathroom.

"Blue?" He calls out from behind the door.

"I'm here," your quiet voice responds with a sniffle.

He opens the door to find you in the tub, hidden by soap bubbles. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet. The addition of your red nose confirms you've been crying for a while.

"What's wrong, Blue?" Yoongi tenderly asks, kneeling by the tub to be eye to eye.

"Just had a horrible day at work," you sniff, hiding your face with fading blue hair. It's ironic how it matches your mood. "And my damn hormones are making things worse."

"You want to talk about it?"

You shake your head no as tears fill your eyes again. Work has been stressful this past week, with so many deadlines and little inspiration. The more you work, the less motivation you have. You've only been working at the company for 3 years. How will you manage to do it your whole life?

"Want cuddles?" Yoongi asks, brushing your hair out of your face.

Seeing you shake your head, yes, he undresses and gets into the tub with you. The fact you're on your period does nothing to impede him. It's just blood.

He hugs your shoulders and makes you lean against his chest. The water is hot enough to turn his skin pink and make him sweat, but his goal right now is to comfort you.

Yoongi kisses your head and lays his cheek on the top of your head. Feeling another wave of frustration and pain, tears pour out of your eyes. Knowing what you need, Yoongi gently massages your abdomen to ease the painful cramps. It's meant to be an act of both emotional and physical comfort.

"I'm sorry I'm crying over nothing. It's so stupid." Your hand rises from the water to wipe away your tears, yet it stops midway and falls back into the steaming tub of water. It's pointless; more will retake their place.

"It's not stupid, Blue," he whispers in your ear. "What you're feeling is real; the only way you'll feel better is to let it out." Yoongi is familiar with pain. It's like an old friend, always in the back of his mind.

Yoongi's words cause more tears to fall into the bath water. You're sad and angry, and frustrated at everything except for Yoongi. You're happy he's there with you, the highlight of your day. There's no way you're letting him go from your life. The past boyfriends you've had never treated you the way Yoongi does. They were alright. They just didn't pay attention to details.

With the water turning cold Yoongi gets out to heat up dinner. He sets up the table with a candle in the middle. You're a romantic; it'll cheer you up. You shuffle into the kitchen area with the hoodie he left in the bathroom and sweatpants. Yoongi smiles sweetly at you, motioning you over.

He had placed the plates facing each other, but you take yours and put it beside his, scraping the chair over the floor to sit beside him.

"Thank you." You kiss his cheek and begin to eat.

With him being right-handed and you being left-handed, there is no way he can hold your hand while you eat. Still, you feel his tail brushing against your back, providing that comfort.

○●○●○●○●○●

"There he is! The man of the hour!" A blonde man called Jimin yells, seeing Yoongi walk into his apartment.

"I'm surprised he even remembered how to get here," the fox hybrid Jin adds, uncorking a wine bottle.

Those two men are his best and only friends. Yoongi ignores them both, dropping his backpack on the couch. He first met Jin at the supermarket, where a man was throwing off-hand comments, and the hybrid fox stepped in. He acted as if he had known Yoongi all his life and glared at the man, bearing his teeth. The man left, instantly scared that he might get bitten. Jin laughed in pure glee. His fangs might be sharper than humans, but the rest are the same. He loves scaring humans; they are so stupid.

Different from when you defended him, Yoongi was less enthusiastic with Jin. He got into an argument with Jin about how they would get kicked out, what people might think, and a whole dilemma on hybrids' appearances going downhill because of people like Jin. This was 8 years ago when Yoongi was young and much more insecure than he is now. Jin has been the one to help him ease up and accept himself.

Yoongi's still figuring out how Jimin came to be. He was Jin's coworker; the fox had invited him to hang out with him and Yoongi. The rest is history. He's never left them alone since. It took a long time for Yoongi to warm up to him, though he thinks it was part of Jin's therapy to make him more tolerant of humans. Not all of them are bad people.

"You're being exaggerated," Yoongi gruffs, sitting on the kitchen's bar stool.

"Exaggerated? We haven't seen you in nearly two months," Jin scolds him. His voice is reprimanding, but his body movements are smooth and controlled as he places a wine glass in front of Yoongi.

"What has you so busy, Yoongi?" Jimin curiously asks. He takes a swing of the wine glass, grimacing at the dryness of it. He's always preferred white wine.

"Nothing, I wanted some distance from you two always annoying me," Yoongi jests, ignoring their complaints.

"Or counteroffer he has a girlfriend," Jin then says knowingly, "That usually gets people busy." Yoongi's silence confirms his suspicions. Jin's tail puffs up in victory.

"Pay up, Jiminie!"

"Fuck," Jimin whines, patting his pockets and pretending to look for his wallet, "I left my wallet in the car."

Jin rolls his eyes at the lies. It's okay because he knew Yoongi had a girlfriend before they made a bet. Last week, he had walked by the store to see Yoongi and saw the two of you all chummy. Jin hovered outside for a minute, debating whether he should make himself known. Ultimately, he chose against it knowing Yoongi likes his privacy, especially regarding his love life.

"You were betting on me?" Yoongi exclaims in outrage. They're always betting on silly things. This is the first time they bet on their best friend. Their gambling problem is officially a problem.

"Don't ask stupid questions. Of course, we were," Jin laughs, his black pointy ears flat on his head.

"So the girlfriend? Is she hot? Have you played cat and mouse?" Jimin asks. Yoongi instantly kicks him under the table.

In the 6 years of being friends, Jimin has only witnessed one person leaving Yoongi's apartment, which was a sexy mouse hybrid. That day he also learned that Yoongi plays both ways. Ever since, he teases Yoongi by calling sex 'playing cat and mouse.'

"This was too good to be true," Yoongi huffs. This is why Jin invited them to a dinner he would cook.

Jin refuses to cook outside of his job. He's a chef at a Michelin-star restaurant, and when he's at home, he'll eat frozen dinners or takeout. A paradox of sorts, really. While Jin enjoys cooking, it also feels like a chore, so he won't do it at home. Part of it is his ego; he wants the praise that comes with being an incredible chef.

When Yoongi received the text from Jimin that Jin was cooking he almost ran to Jin's place. A free gourmet dinner? Sign him up. Despite being misled Yoongi stays. He can entertain Jimin and Jin for a few hours. There's food being prepared and multiple bottles of wine on the kitchen counter.

One glass of wine in, and he tells them the bare minimum of his relationship. Two drinks in, and he tells them you were the one to ask him on a date.

Jin is so proud to hear she is human, he's done a great job with Yoongi. Part of Jin's plan is to get him tipsy enough to loosen his tongue, which is why he picked one of the dishes that take the longest to cook. Is it wrong? Possibly, but if he doesn't do it, Yoongi will never give any info.

"She's so cute," Yoongi giggles sipping on the fifth glass, "She defended me the other day when some bitch said she deserved better."

"I take it you're happy, Yoongi?" Jimin asks him, head propped up in his hands. He's more than tipsy, getting carried away by the expensive wine Jin bought.

"I thought I was happy as I was, but then she was just there, and I got so excited when she visited the store. She's soft and kind and doesn't complain about all the kisses. She liked when I purred!" Yoongi says as if it's an outrage.

"We like it when you purr, you ungrateful cat!" Jin shouts, waving around the wooden spoon, splatters of food staining the counter.

"No, you guys tease me about it," Yoongi argues.

"That doesn't mean we don't like it!"

They don't get around to eating Jin's delicious food because they are all too drunk to think when it's done. Jin got too carried away with the timing of the food. Jimin tapped out first, disappearing from the kitchen. Jin and Yoongi resisted longer as their hybrid bodies metabolized alcohol slower.

Yoongi, who is usually quiet, can't stop talking about you. Jin, who is a total gossip, is eating up his words. It's a clear indication the pair is wasted. That and the fourth empty bottle of cabernet.

"Jin, I swear she's driving me insane. She's insatiable, and I fucking love it," Yoongi smiles widely. He's lovestruck and way too drunk. You would surely be furious if you heard how he was talking about your relationship.

"Wow, you finally found someone that keeps up with you." Jin is astonished. Yoongi has a high sex drive. When Jin got him to go out clubbing, he would always leave with someone. Hell, there were times when Yoongi would have someone with him during his heats. He had all the contacts.

"God, she has given me the best head of my fucking life, and she loves it too, always on her fucking knees. Look at this."

Yoongi doesn't think as he pulls a Polaroid out of his wallet. Given your hobby of photography, you have many cameras around the apartment. One day, he didn't hesitate to reach out and snap a pic.

It's a picture of you on your knees, Yoongi's cock in your tiny hand, and your blue hair in two braids barely covering your chest. Yoongi's ring-clad hand is holding your cheeks, forcing you to open your mouth to show his white cum in your mouth.

"Lucky son of a bitch," Jin gasps, staring wide-eyed at the photograph. Yoongi is too drunk to realize how bad it is that he's sharing a picture made only for his eyes. Luckily, Jin is too drunk to remember it in the morning.

Laughing loudly, Yoongi stumbles into Jin's living room. The fox is behind him, yelling at him for rubbing in his face his thriving sex life. Jin feels guilty about the tightness in his pants, he can't help it. He has been single for too long and his job keeps him busy leaving no room for one-night stands. The only release is the one his hand provides.

Yoongi trips on Jimin, sleeping on the floor, his chubby cheek squishing onto the carpet. The room is spinning for the cat hybrid; he barely manages to fall on the couch face down, getting knocked out instantly.

The following day Yoongi wakes up with a splitting headache and a kink in his neck. He stumbles into the kitchen to get water and finds a puffy-faced Jin. He has a spoon in his hand as he eats the untouched food from last night straight from the pot.

"I'm a culinary genius," he talks with his mouth full.

Yoongi grabs the spoon Jin offers him and digs in. He moans at how delicious it is, even if it's cold and he's not quite sure what it is. This is what he came for last night.

"How did I let you fool me again?" Yoongi wonders. It's not the first time Jin has done something like this to get him to join them.

Despite their headaches, both hybrids laugh loudly, the older one choking on the food. Yoongi laughs louder, patting him on the back. He loves his two friends; it's just that he loves being on his own, too, and they can be clingy as fuck. He appreciates it when they reach out, though.

Jimin appears in the doorway with an indignant look on his face. "Some of us are trying to sleep. What has the two of you giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls?"

○●○●○●○●○●

"Help."

Yoongi looks up from the sofa seeing you with your hair parted in chunks. There are strands of hair with blue hair dye and others without.

"What are you doing?" He stands, walking over to you to assess the situation.

"I can't reach the back," you say sheepishly. Whenever you dye your hair, you have friends with you to help you out. Hoseok has helped you a bunch of times as he's used to dyeing his hair. Your brother helps out too, seeing as he learned when he was a teenager to help you out.

You thought you could do it today on your own; you were desperate to revive your hair to the bright blue that you love. You were wrong because it got too messy and complicated as soon as you got to the strands in the back.

Yoongi sighs but follows you into the bathroom. He puts on a pair of gloves and, with your instructions, applies the blue hair dye. He'll be here a while; you have long hair and a lot of it. He hopes you have another dye tube because the one on the tray won't be enough.

"You're doing it wrong," you say for the third time since he started.

Yoongi pulls your hair lightly, forcing your head back to look up at him. He glares at you in warning; he's running out of patience. You reciprocate the glare. "Ouch."

"You're the one that needs help. Tone it down," Yoongi sighs angrily, brushing the dye on the top of your head.

"I'm just saying you're not adding enough," you snap, annoyed at Yoongi.

You should've known better than to ask for Yoongi's help; you're too much of a perfectionist. You're friends know you well enough already to handle your perfectionism. Still, it's something Yoongi has yet to see much of and needs to learn.

"No, you are saying it a whole other thing entirely. I'm no expert and doing you a favor, I don't need all the reprimanding." Yoongi argues, looking at you through the bathroom mirror.

"Fine then, leave," you grit, snatching the paintbrush from his hands to try and do it on your own.

Yoongi blows air out of his nose in anger, taking off his gloves on the way out of the apartment. He puts on his jacket and slams the door behind him.

Angrily you finish applying the hair dye. At this point, you don't care if it ends up patchy. That infuriates you more. While you wait to wash your hair, you slam each drawer and door in your apartment.

In the shower, you cool down and think of what you did again. Maybe, you were a little rough and reacted wrong. You didn't mean for it to come out as it did. Hurrying out of the shower, you get dressed in the first thing you find and leave for Yoongi's to apologize to your kitty.

Yoongi is at home staring at the TV. It plays a random action movie he can't bother paying attention to. You completely ruined his peaceful mood. His ears are flat on his back, clearly showing his anger. You had no reason to treat him that way, he always helps you out, comforts you, treats you like a damn queen, and then you repay him by acting like a total bitch.

He knows it's you when he hears the door. If you're here, you're probably going to apologize. He lets you knock a few more times out of sheer spite. When he opens it, he sees you with flowers and wine, and without a word, he lets you in.

You instantly catch that his mood could be better. Fair enough. "I'm sorry for my behavior earlier. I have no excuse for it."

"I'm glad you see it that way because I do every single fucking thing you want, and I don't warrant that type of treatment," he huffs, letting some of his frustration out.

"You don't have to do everything I want," you say passively, avoiding another argument. You leave the gifts on the kitchen counter.

"You don't get it?" Yoongi chuffs in disbelief, crossing his arms.

"Get what?"

"I do all those things because I like you and want to make you happy. When you treat me like I'm stupid, it drives me nuts. I don't deserve that."

"You're right, you don't," you agree instantly, "I understand if you want me to leave."

With your head hung, you reach for the door. You think that's what he means with his words. You think he's tired of you that you pushed him away with your bitch mood. You didn't mean to act that way; it just comes out sometimes, especially when you're PMSing.

"Come back, you idiot," Yoongi sighs.

Yoongi grabs your arm, slamming you against the door and kissing you hotly. How you irritate him drives him crazy, but you're not perfect, and neither is he. He'd rather work through it than let you go.

Your hands go under his oversized t-shirt, your nails dragging down his abdomen. Yoongi hisses in pain and wraps one of his hands against your throat, squeezing lightly.

"Don't ever speak to me like that, understood?" His voice is low and commanding.

You stare at him with wide eyes, feeling a wave of arousal. It's no secret that Yoongi has that effect on you, and it amplifies when he gets controlling like this.

"Say it, Blue." Yoongi repeats, tightening the fingers around your neck.

"I understand, Yoongi," you say seductively.

With his hand still around your neck, he smashes his lips on yours, teeth and tongue included. Your arms go around him, lightly tugging on his black tail, and his hips thrust as soon as you do. It never fails to surprise him. You've learned so much in the short time you've been with him.

Yoongi hoists you up, wrapping your legs around him, letting him carry you to his bedroom. The door slams against the wall as he indelicately drops you in the bed.

"Take off your clothes," he orders, sitting on the bed. He watches you with hard eyes, waiting for you to do as he says. "Today, Blue," he scorns when you take too long for his liking.

You don't know what's gotten into him, but you like it. Starting with your hoodie-the hoodie he left behind- you reveal a pretty white bra with flower details. Your leggings go next, then your bra, and lastly, your panties. Yoongi barely reacts, motioning you to continue with each piece you take off.

"Lay on the bed," he points with his head.

You crawl onto the bed, laying on the fluffy pillows that spill with his cologne. You're expecting him to join you, you couldn't be more wrong.

"Touch yourself," Yoongi nonchalantly speaks, tongue poking at his cheek in annoyance.

"W-What?" It shouldn't be a big deal you've had sex with Yoongi many times before, but this is different. Touching yourself is something you do in private, not under your boyfriend's scrutinizing gaze.

"Touch yourself, Blue. I know you do it. You think I haven't seen the toys you hide?" He mocks you with a mean smirk.

"Yoongi, I-"

"Touch yourself, now, and look at me while you do," he snaps, sending you a glare.

If you were to say no, that would be the end of it. Yoongi wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want. He's confident you'd enjoy this, though…to an extent.

Complying, you begin by massaging your breasts, pulling on your hard nipples just like he does when he touches you. Shyly one hand trails down your stomach, and you open your legs, revealing your pussy that Yoongi happens to love so much. It's not an assumption. He's vocalized it many times. He swears he can cum just by looking at it.

Circling your clit with your fingers, you moan his name, calling him to take you. He ignores you, fixating on your actions. A single digit slides between your folds as it easily enters you. You're soaked. It's never the same as when he does it, not as satisfying.

Yoongi notices the glistening of your juices from the foot of the bed, small wet sounds come from your body, along with your whines for him. Your eyes close in instinct while you chase pleasure.

"Open your eyes." You obey his command, your eyes focusing on his face as he licks his lips. You insert two fingers, pumping them steadily, giving him the show he desires.

"How does it feel?" Yoongi inquires, holding your knees open with his strong hands when they clench at the pleasure you're bringing to yourself. He's kneeling right in front of you, entranced.

"Fucking good," you pant, your hand reaching for the one on your knee.

"Better than when I do it?" He asks, lacing your fingers together.

"No, never," you gasp. Yoongi's fingers know you better than you do yourself. They reach depths you've never explored. They are agile and strong due to his talent on the piano. He would touch you just as he does the keys softly at first, adding force when needed and caressing lightly once the piece's climax is over. Always ready to go again and again until he perfect's it.

"Add another one," Yoongi purrs. You've taken his cock many times now. You're always tight but so ready for him.

You replicate his movements when he touches you, curving your fingers until you find that spot. The squelching sound intensifies when you add that third finger, it's music to Yoongi's ears.

A high-pitched yell from you informs him of all he needs to know, "That's it, you found it, haven't you?"

"Yes," you say in a high-pitched moan, your legs try to clench, but Yoongi's strong hands impede you.

"Stop," he says before you cum, "I said stop, Blue!" he roars when you ignore him. You are so close. His hand grips your wrist, forcing you to stop. You open your eyes, hadn't realized they were closed.

"You never listen. Do you?" Yoongi condescendingly mutters.

"I'm sorry," you say, out of breath, hoping he'll join you to finish you off.

He shakes his head, ignoring your apology, "Go on, Lick your fingers."

Obediently you bring your fingers to your lips, licking them clean as per his orders.

"You taste delicious, don't you?"

"Mhm, but you're better." Your eyes are hopeful he'll have his way with you now.

"Too bad 'cause you're not getting it today," he mocks with a fake pout.

"What?" You ask, bewildered.

"Not after what you did today," he says, dipping one of his fingers between your fold, making you shiver. He brings that same finger to his lips, tasting you.

"Yoongi, I said I was sorry," you argue, sitting up on the bed, begging for him.

"And that changes what?" He cocks an eyebrow at your words.

He grabs your chin and kisses you deeply. You numbly follow along before he pulls away, "Get dressed and come out. There's a new episode of that show you like. Oh, and don't you dare cum."

"I don't get it! I'm here begging for you, and you won't touch me." You're upset, but more than that, you're horny. Yoongi is a drug you can't get enough of, and being denied of him sends you into a frenzy. "Wasn't my apology enough?"

"Blue, I forgave you the moment you got here," Yoongi smiles at you sweetly.

"Then why?" You ask, your shoulders slumping.

"Well, just because I forgave you doesn't mean you don't need a punishment."

"And no sex was the way to go. You could do so much better, Yoongi?" You taunt him, thinking this is the way he'll give you what you want.

"Says the girl who couldn't keep her hands to herself and brought me to her apartment on the second date," Yoongi teases her.

"Are you slut shaming me?" You gasp in disbelief.

"No, I'm just saying when it comes to me, you have no control," he shrugs.

"Please, next time I'm mad at you, we'll see who has no control," you pout, gathering your clothes strewn on the floor.

"Probably you. We know how you get when you're mad," Yoongi winks.

You wanted him, he was decided, though, and a stubborn Yoongi always wins. You get dressed again, only in his hoodie, hoping he changes his mind. He doesn't. He acts as if the fight never happened, cuddles you, and kisses you, but that night he doesn't touch you the way you want, ignoring all your advances.

The following day is a different story as Yoongi fucks you like you want, ravaging your body. Everything he held back the day before he uses to his advantage. You didn't hold back one bit as you begged Yoongi to fuck you harder. The neighbors will surely complain to the landlord about the unholy noises coming from his room.

○●○●○●○●○●

“Ah,” Yoongi’s moans are hidden by the water falling from the shower. He’s right below the shower head, cold water covering his body. The past three months have gone by so quickly that his heat surprised him.

His back leans against the shower wall as he rubs himself under the cold water. His hips thrust into his hand in desperate need. Yoongi whines in discomfort; his peak is too hard to reach alone. He would call you, but he’s not ready yet. He is not in complete control when he’s in heat, Yoongi knows he’ll say things that will throw you off, and it’s not like you’ll even agree to help him in the first place. You love sex, and you love sex with Yoongi, but this is something else entirely.

Yoongi moans as he continues to pump his cock. It feels so good yet so painful at the same time. The more he reaches his climax, the more the pain intensifies. If he had you here, he’d have you against the wall as he fucks you from behind. The thought sends another wave of heat through his body.

In his horny haze, he remembers something he stole from you, a little piece of you. He shuts off the water, not bothering to dry himself. He has the panties he stole from you that day at the shop on his nightstand drawer. They have your scent attached to them. Should be enough to let him cum.

Yoongi lies on his bed, sweat, and water sticking to the bed sheets. He grabs the soft fabric and envelops it in his aching length. Yoongi fists his length, imagining he’s with you, how your hands tighten around his cock, or how you like to choke on it when giving him head. Your tight fucking pussy always feels so good. He always needs to stretch you out with his fingers. His moves quicken; the only noise in the room is his desperate moans calling for you, for his Blue. Reaching his orgasm, he covers your panties with his cum. Momentarily his temperature lowers, and his breathing slows as he catches his breath. The first day is the worst. He just needs to get over this day.

If he’d been single, he would’ve called other hybrids he knew and had helped him before. He has you know he doesn’t want to disrespect you or your relationship. He’d be thinking of you even if he’s with someone else. Due to this, through the next two days, his hand becomes his best friend.

                      ○●○●○●○●○●

It’s your six-month anniversary today, and after a romantic date, you and Yoongi desperately enter your apartment. Hands are everywhere, lips are swollen, and sex is in the air. Yoongi teased you all night under the dinner table, refusing to give you what you wanted. Your begging in his ear to fuck you in the car or bathroom not working in your favor.

The door to your apartment bangs against the wall as you push it open. Yoongi pushes you into the room, slamming the door behind him. He likes to think he has it memorized. He pulls your leg around his waist, grinding against you. You moan as he buries his head on your neck.

A cough and the scent of another hybrid force Yoongi to stop in his tracks. With narrowed eyes, he pulls away from your neck. A bunny hybrid stands at the living room entrance, a corn popsicle in his hand.

“For fucks sake Jungkook,” you say under your breath, creating distance between you and Yoongi. “How many times have I told you to call ahead?”

“I did, though! I sent you a message this morning,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his ice cream.

“The message says ‘What’s up?’” You read the message, expecting to see another one following up with an announcement of his visit. The bunny shrugs like it’s not his problem, and you sigh in annoyance.

Yoongi is confused, to say the least. Who is this stranger in your living room? Noticing his expression, you quickly introduce the two hybrids.

“Yoongi, this is my brother Jungkook.”

Yoongi’s confusion rises to a new degree; something is not adding up. Jungkook catches on to his train of thought, and with a chuckle, he adds, “Adopted.”

You had never mentioned your brother was a hybrid. You’ve been dating for six months, and that never came up once. He wonders why that is. It would explain the light hybrid scent in your apartment. Yoongi always thought it came from one of your neighbor’s apartments.

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook,” Yoongi coughs to ease the tension.

“How long are you staying?” You ask your brother, crossing your arms against your chest. You are slightly upset, today is meant to be a celebration, and with Jungkook here, that can’t happen. Still, you’re not mad. You love Kook; he’s your best friend.

“Just the weekend, I got an exam on Tuesday,” Jungkook says.

“You look really nice,” he tells you, “Were you guys on a date?”

Yoongi nods solemnly. He’s not sure what to do in this situation. He thought when he’d meet your family, it wouldn’t be in such a compromising condition. Granted, Jungkook being a hybrid helped ease his nerves. He doesn’t have to worry about a stranger judging him or you for your relationship.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Jungkook grimaces in apology.

“Does mom know you’re here?” You ask him while walking to your room.

Clearly, Jungkook is here to stay, so you’ll change and get more comfortable. There’s no use in staying in the uncomfortable dress and lingerie you’d worn for Yoongi. You can save it for next time and surprise him with the black lace set.

“Nope,” he simply says, following you to your room.

You close the door behind you, and Jungkook continues the conversation on the other side. While you forgot to mention that Jungkook is a hybrid, you mentioned that he has no boundaries and easily gets very comfortable with people.

Feeling out of place, Yoongi waits for you on the couch. Maybe with Jungkook here, you wouldn’t like him to stay, or you’d leave with him to his place. The bunny hybrid carefully eyed him as if assessing if he was a good guy or not.

Jungkook almost falls when you open the door. You’ve changed into his hoodie, shorts, and geeky superhero socks. It’s been getting colder lately, making your feet feel freezing. Whenever you go to bed with Yoongi, you press your cold feet on his thigh, making him hiss. Then you’d remind him of his promise of keeping you warm six months ago.

“I couldn’t find the banana milk,” Jungkook pouts, following you around the apartment.

“It’s on the pantry’s lowest shelf,” you mention, flopping on the couch beside Yoongi.

You cuddle on his side when he wraps an arm around your shoulder. Jungkook returns to the living room, eyeing the both of you.

“Jungkook, don’t be so awkward,” you laugh at him, patting the seat beside you.

“I feel bad I interrupted you guys night,” he admits, flopping beside you like you did moments ago. It’s hard to say who got that from who.

“It’s no problem, Jungkook. I’m happy to finally meet you,” Yoongi adds that it’s no biggie.

Jungkook smiles at the both of you and finally eases up. He spends the rest of the night getting to know Yoongi better. You’re pleased they both get along well. If anything, Jungkook even looks up at Yoongi. When you told him you were dating a hybrid, Jungkook was ecstatic. He never mentioned it, but whenever you brought home your human boyfriends, they were always uncomfortable around Jungkook, which hurt him. 

They never understood his hybrid mannerisms. They’d begin thinking he was hitting on you after learning that he was adopted. Now with Yoongi, he won’t have that problem because he will understand.

At the end of the night, Yoongi stays. He’d offered to leave, but you didn’t see a point to it. Even if you do nothing tonight due to your guest’s heightened sense of hearing, you want him to stay to finish the celebration.

“So adopted?” Yoongi asks. He’s lying on your chest as your play with his hair. It calms him down.

“Mm, yes.”

As a teen, your mom had a friend, and she had a bunny girl hybrid as a servant. They didn’t treat her the best, but your mom was always kind to her, and they became somewhat friends. They kept in touch through the years. One day when you were 16 and Jungkook was 12, she died in a car accident. Some believe it was on purpose. 

At the time, she was working for a sketchy man, and he did unspeakable things to her that she could not repeat. By now, the law for hybrids had passed, and she was going to report him. The man followed her and ran over her with his car. Before she died in the hospital, she asked your mom to take care of Jungkook. You and Jungkook became best friends, and your parents gained another child.

“That was nice of your family,” Yoongi hums, caressing your leg.

Jungkook is lucky he was born after the law for hybrids was passed; hence, he was not separated from his mother and got to meet and get to know her. 

Yoongi never got to meet his mom, he doesn’t even have a name. If his memory is good, Jungkook still remembers her, or he has photographs. As soon as Yoongi was born, he was raised with other hybrid kids, and when Yoongi was old enough, he got sold to servitude.

“You should’ve seen him when he first moved in, shy and cute,” you gush over Jungkook. He had this wide-eyed innocent gaze. He always asked permission for everything and anything. It took your family a while to break that habit. It makes you laugh cause nowadays, he does as he wishes and has everyone wrapped around his little finger.

“Reminds me of someone,” Yoongi mentions, squeezing your thigh.

“That’s different. I was flustered by your dashing good looks!” you exclaim, lightly slapping his chest.

The following day you wake up bright and early to prepare breakfast. Jungkook walks in with his hair pointing in all directions. He kisses your cheek in greeting before sitting on the kitchen table. Like clockwork, you give him a glass of juice with a straw and a silicone tip. 

Jungkook likes biting on straws (on everything he can get his teeth on). When you stopped buying the plastics ones for the more environmentally friendly metal ones, Jungkook didn’t like that and began complaining about how he couldn’t bite into them. Falling for his whines, you bought a pack of silicone tips and then another, and then another cause he destroyed them with his bunny teeth.

“Have plans today?” You ask him, ruffling his messy hair. Jungkook leans into his touch, feeling comforted by the simple action.

“I think I’m gonna lazy around and play online if that’s okay,” he asks sweetly, knowing that otherwise you would scold him and tell him to go out and enjoy the fresh air. He doesn’t know that since you’ve been with Yoongi, you’ve turned more into a homebody.

“Of course. Yoongi and I will be heading out to work soon, but you call me if you need anything.”

You had prepared a stack of blueberry pancakes for all of you. You served Jungkook a big plate, knowing he eats like there’s no tomorrow. His bunny metabolism helps him with that, and his unrelenting energy. As you place the plate in front of Jungkook, he gently bites into your arm.

You sigh in defeat, knowing there’s no way for him to stop his biting. For years you’ve told him not to do it, but it’s an instinct of his. He does it when he’s angry, when he’s sleepy, when he’s happy, when he’s annoyed. What varies is how hard he does it.

Jungkook smiles mischievously, waiting for your complaint, but all you do is brush through his long dark hair, undoing the knots that form by his bunny ears. Just like Yoongi purrs, Jungkook makes a weird sound in the back of his throat whenever you touch him around his ears.

Yoongi, having woken up later than you, walks into the kitchen. He’s dressed in clothes he’s left here in the past months. He beelines for you, pecking your lips sweetly as you hand him a plate of pancakes.

“Morning, Jungkook,” Yoongi greets the younger boy.

“Morning, Yoongi,” Jungkook says with his mouth full of pancakes.

You sit between them, striking conversation between the three of you. It’s much easier than you thought, as Jungkook just asks question after question at Yoongi. He’s never felt more at ease with one of your boyfriends.

“Can I stop by the store later?” He asks Yoongi with puppy dog eyes.

“Sure, I’ll be there till 6,” Yoongi agrees with a soft smile. There is a lot of Jungkook that reminds him of you. While you are not biologically related, you’ve adapted to each other’s mannerisms.

In the afternoon, Jungkook stops by your office to have lunch. He always has a great time at your building since most people know him there. He hopes to work there after he graduates from university.

As promised, Jungkook then stops by Yoongi’s store. He has walked by the small shop many times but never stopped to go inside. The bell at the door jingles when Jungkook walks in. Yoongi has just finished checking out a customer.

“Hey, Kook.” Yoongi greets him, his black tail swishing behind him. He’s heard you call him Kook so many times it stuck.

“Hi, Yoongi,” Jungkook absentmindedly responds, staring around the store and its variety, from musical instruments to producing equipment to music albums of all kinds and formats.

“Your sister mentioned you were collecting vinyl?” Yoongi asks him, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, I have a few,” Jungkook nods, looking at the cat hybrid, who offers him a sneaky smile.

“I pulled these out for you. I think you might like them.” Yoongi pulls out two pieces of vinyl still wrapped in plastic from the shelf behind him. Yoongi likes the bunny hybrid and sees how happy he makes you, so he doesn’t mind giving Jungkook a small gift.

“How do you have these?” Jungkook exclaims in awe. In his hands are two limited edition vinyls of his favorite artists. These have been sold out everywhere for a long time, and very few people sold them. Whenever they did the waitlist, the bids were ridiculous.

“I’ve got contacts,” Yoongi shrugs cockily.

“I have a feeling we’re gonna get along just fine,” Jungkook beams at him, gushing over the vinyl.

They spend quite a lot of time talking about music, and Yoongi is surprised at all the knowledge the bunny holds. There are things Yoongi thought only a few people knew, but Jungkook is proving him wrong here.

“Is there a reason you visited this weekend?” Yoongi smoothly asks Jungkook. He’s noticed some things about the bunny that lead him to think it’s not just to have a friendly visit.

“Nope, was tired of school,” Jungkook says, lying.

“Your sister has mentioned you like to skip a lot,” Yoongi adds. He’s staring out the window wanting to keep the bunny calm.

“I don’t skip that much,” Jungkook complains with a groan. His sister always exaggerates things, he barely misses school.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi inquires again.

“I know my sister worries, but I’m fine. You don’t have to do this.”

Since he came into your life, you’ve worried about Jungkook-or not so much about him but the people around him. Not everyone is tolerant of hybrids, and you know this. When he came into your life, you were already in high school, so you weren’t there to defend him when bullies bothered him. When he was 12, he wasn’t big and buff to scare people away as he is now. He was small and scrawny, your parents talked to the principal and the other parents, but there’s only so much they could do.

“She didn’t send me to do anything. I just noticed the bruise on your arm,” Yoongi points to Jungkook’s left arm.

“Don’t tell her,” Jungkook sighs, defeated. He’d tried to hide the bruise as best he could. “My roommate is an ass, and he’s always taunting me, calling me a helpless bunny. He’s provoking me. I usually leave because if I throw the first punch, I get expelled. My parents did a lot to get me into the school I wanted. I don’t want to let them down.”

“You’re doing good, Jungkook,” Yoongi says thoughtfully. He understands Jungkook’s predicament. No matter how well a hybrid does, one misstep can end it all.

“But?” Jungkook prompts, there’s always a but.

“You should tell someone, get you out of that dorm. Staying quiet will only get you so far,” Yoongi advices. From his perspective, Jungkook has a great support system and should take advantage of that.

“Maybe, I don’t want the attention, though, or for my family to worry,” Jungkook explains. They’ve done so much for him already. He doesn’t want to be a burden.

“Just think about it. Your sister is worrying and doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“You won’t tell her?” Jungkook pleads, finding Yoongi’s gaze. All he wants is to do this by himself.

“It’s not my place,” he reassures Jungkook with a nod.

Thinking of Yoongi’s words, Jungkook agrees. He’ll take care of this situation. He’ll apply for a new roommate or move in by himself. Next time something happens, he’ll speak up.

○●○●○●○●○●

One lazy morning, Yoongi stares at the ceiling. It’s too early to be up. His arm is around you as your head lies on his chest. He had woken up from a nightmare. It had been a while since he had one of those. Why is it that when things are going great, the universe reminds him of the horrible things he’s been through?

Yoongi feels you stir as you wake up. You stretch out your limbs before settling back in Yoongi’s chest.

“Why are you awake so early?” You yawn, kissing his exposed chest. Yoongi can’t sleep with many clothes on, or he’ll get too hot at night.

Yoongi hugs you close, kissing your head, “I had a nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yoongi hasn’t told you much about his past life. When he talks about his past, it’s mainly the part of his life after Lee adopted him. You understand it’s something he wants to leave behind and respect it. It’s time, though, Yoongi thinks.

“When I was a kid before the law passed, I was owned by this family,” Yoongi begins, “Even though I was barely a child, they would have me do chores around the house, clean up their kids’ messes, and obey every little word they said. I remember their kids bullying me into acting ‘like the animal I was.’ They would make me eat off the floor and crawl around the house till my knees were bruised. They’d get physical too, pulling on my tail and ears till I cried.”

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you say sadly. You can’t imagine a child going through that, yet it’s the reality many hybrids face.

“When the law passed, I was thrown into the streets. I was alone, cold, and hungry, eating off the trash like a stray. An old woman took me in. She was nice enough. She needed company, but more than that, she needed help around the house. Mostly, I went unscathed unless I did something she thought was out of line. That’s when she’d search for her dead husband’s belt and beat me with it. I never left, though. Where would I go? When she died, I was 14, and back to the streets, I went. I went to different hybrid and homeless shelters, but there was always some sort of problem with them, and they never offered a way to get out of the streets.”

“What did you do then?” Your hands are trailing up and down his stomach, offering some comfort.

“I came to this city, hoping there would be more resources. It was the same. That’s when things truly got worse….” Yoongi trails off, thinking of his past.

“Yoongs, you don’t have to,” You reassure him, getting in a position where you can see his face. His eyes are distant, so you touch his cheek and peck his lips.

“I want you to know,” he slowly responds.

“Okay,” you nod, offering him a small smile that you hoped comforted him.

“There was this sketchy guy I always saw around, and one day he asked me if I wanted to make some money. He knew I did, and he used that to his advantage. He had customers all around the city with different tasks. All I had to do was go to the addresses he gave me, do whatever they wanted me to do, and leave. And I did, at first, it was stupid stuff to help an older man with a yard, clean a house, or do a delivery. When he had my trust, things got sketchier delivering mystery packages to rundown houses, watching some people and reporting back to him, and transporting vehicles from one side of town to another.

Until one day, he said he had an extra special job for me. All I had to do was go to an apartment in the middle of the city. I went, and there, a lady greeted me. It was unlike anything I had ever done before; she complimented me. She led me to this false sense of security and then took what she wanted.” Yoongi pauses, remembering that horrible day, “Turns out they pay a lot for hybrids in heat.”

You think of Jungkook and what would’ve been of him if your family hadn’t taken him in. Your poor Jungkook wouldn’t have survived what Yoongi went through. His heart has always been too pure, too gentle. More so, you feel pain for Yoongi for having to go through it. What he’s been through is some people’s worst nightmare, and he had to go through it all alone.

“I left after that day, didn’t accept the money that came with it or any other tasks offered to me. I spent a year in the streets, barely scraping by and hiding in alleys. There was the music store I always walked by, and one day I gathered the courage to walk in. Lee instantly spotted me and watched me as I played a few keys on the piano. An instrument that has been there for most of my life. The first family I had owned one, and I got to learn the basics by watching their kid’s lessons. The old lady had one, too, that she let me use. She actually liked when I played.

I played a song lightly on Lee’s display piano, and when I finished, Lee was there watching me. He asked me if I needed a job, and despite me showing him I was a homeless hybrid, he didn’t care. Turns out Lee had lost a son due to an illness, and he saw something of his son in me. I was hesitant initially, but Lee always proved to be an honorable man. That’s where I’ve stayed until now, repaying him for everything he did for me.”

When he finishes the story, you have tear tracks down your face. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t deserve to. After all, you were not the one to go through that stuff, yet you felt for Yoongi. You felt the pain in his voice and the injustices he had to go through. His memories still haunt him through his dreams when he should be resting peacefully in the safety of his home.

“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.” Your voice is watery as you try to voice your thoughts, “I’m so happy that you found Lee and that you’ve found happiness because it’s all you deserve and more.”

“I love you, Blue,” Yoongi confesses for the first time, sitting on the bed. “It’s why I’m telling you, I love you, and you need to know my past before it’s too late.” He needed you to know in case you decided to leave.

“I love you too, Yoongi,” you cry out happily, holding his cheeks in your hands. “It pains me that you have such a tragic past, but it led you to me, and it’s not going to change how I think of you.”

With tears of relief in his eyes, Yoongi kisses you nice and softly. He loves you, and you love him. You know everything you need to know about him, and it didn’t scare you away. He couldn’t ask for anything better.

○●○●○●○●○●

By the time his next heat rolls around, Yoongi has talked to you about it. You had randomly brought up the subject one night, asking him about what he did in those instances. He had been honest about how he usually had someone helping him and reciprocated that help when the time came. He quickly added how he was all alone last time, afraid you’d think he had cheated.

It all made you feel guilty; you didn’t want Yoongi to be in pain and discomfort because of you. At the same time, you did not like the idea of someone else getting to help him and touch him when he was in such a vulnerable state. The only solution was to offer him your help to which he reluctantly agreed.

It led to a long night of Yoongi giving you a rundown of what usually happens when he’s in heat and what to expect. He pretty straightforwardly told you not to take to heart all the breeding references about giving you his babies. You’d giggled at that and told him not to worry. You might actually be into that.

The fated day finally arrives without warning. His constant fucking around with you completely masked the incessant horny feeling he gets. Your voice wakes him up, ripping him away from the dreamy haze he had been in. Unconsciously he had been rutting against her side, his cock rock hard and larger than normal.

“Yoong’s, you’re burning up,” you say, touching his forehead, which is beginning to be coated by sweat.

“I have to go,” Yoongi groans, sitting up. Despite having thrashed all the sheets, he’s sweaty and sticky, “I’m in heat.”

“Yoongi, we talked about this. You have me now. You don’t have to go through this alone,” you tell him, holding onto his arm, preventing him from getting up.

“It can be too much, Blue, and I won’t be thinking straight,” he insists half-heartedly. All he wants is your help, but he’s scared you’ll be disgusted by this side of him.

“Lie back down. I’ve got you,” you say, pushing Yoongi lightly back onto the pillows.

Taking off your underwear, you lift the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed and straddle him. Since this isn’t a time to have tons of foreplay, you grab his hard cock, pumping it while you rub your clit to get yourself wet. Yoongi complains, wanting to feel the warmth of your pussy, swearing it’s the only thing that will relieve him.

Finally, you take all his cock, a sting following as you get used to his size. He’s so much bigger when he’s in heat you have never felt as full. Yoongi sighs in relief under you, grabbing your hips to set a pace that will please him best. His hands gripping you so tightly he thrusts into you desperately. His eyes are closed, concentrating on how you clench around him, but he needs more.

He pulls out of you and swiftly brings you to your knees, your front pressed onto the mattress. He slams back into you without hesitation, making you moan loudly onto the pillows. The room is all but quiet. You’re whining from Yoongi, pushing deep into you. Yoongi is groaning filthy words about how well your pussy is taking him, and the sound of your skin slapping reverberates.

For Yoongi, the first wave is the hardest to overcome. It takes a lot out of him to cum. He wants to so badly, but the pain edges him on. Luckily, you’re great to help with what you do next.

“Fuck me, Yoongi. I wanna have your babies!” You yell under him.

You swear your words make Yoongi’s cock swell even more, the stretch unreal. He thrusts hard, pulling away entirely and slamming back in. Tears well in your eyes. It feels too good. You’ve already cum around him once, and he barely noticed. You’re overstimulated by this new experience.

“We’re gonna keep going until you’re full of my cum,” he groans. Yoongi is drenched in sweat his hair sticking onto his forehead. His chest glistens with the dimmed lights of the bedroom.

Yoongi is entranced by how his cockhead pops in and out of your wet pussy. His length is entirely covered in your slick, making it much easier to thrust into you. You were made just for him. There’s no other explanation for why you feel so good hugging his cock.

Finally, feeling like he’s near his release, he lifts you up your back is against his front. He digs his head into your neck, breathing your delightful smell in. His scent entangled in yours prompts him to harshly bite you, leaving a mark on your neck as if he has claimed you as his. Yoongi is right, you are a pain slut, which brings you over the edge.

“That’s it, Blue, milk my cock, take all of it,” Yoongi stills as you clench around him, his nails digging into your hips, leaving half-moon marks on your skin as he empties inside of you.

“Everything you’ll give me,” You pant, your legs feeling like jelly as you slump against Yoongi.

Pulling your head to the side, he places short messy kisses all over your face. The heat waves he felt coursing through his body ceased momentarily. He pulls out of you, his cock not quite soft yet. You whine at the emptiness and how sensitive you feel down there.

Cum trickles out of you as you lay back on the bed, yet Yoongi pushes it back with his fingers. He hushes you when you shudder, kissing your thigh, “Can’t waste it.”

As you predicted, some minutes after his first release Yoongi is back on you. He kneels between your legs, grabbing your hips to fuck you like that. Yoongi is a visual person, so he takes much pleasure watching you take his cock, your cunt pink and puffy from his previous abuse. Part of his cum leaks out of you, although this time around, he doesn’t worry as he promises to give you more.

His mind flashes with the thought of you pregnant, carrying his kittens. Pretty girl. He splays his hand over your lower abdomen and presses down, he feels himself inside of you, and you see stars as he stimulates your spot. You cum again, legs shaking. Yoongi drips in sweat and, with a painful groan, releases inside of you again. Still inside you, plugging you up, he breathes heavily and lays on your chest. You brush through his wet hair, whispering sweet nothings.

“You did so well, Yoongi,” you rasp out, “Fucked me so good.”

Your throat is dry and raspy. You need water, yet you don’t dare to get up. Yoongi needs you.

“You don’t have to stay,” he whispers, “I can finish this myself. You’ve done more than enough.”

Through his haze, he offers you another exit. Heats are too much for the hybrid. He can’t imagine how much it’ll be for you. He appreciates your help but understands if you want to leave now that you’ve tasted how it is.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” you reassure him gently, “I want to help you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yoongi insists, kissing the swell of your breast.

“You won’t,” you laugh, “I’m sturdier than I seem.”

Yoongi props up on his elbows and thrust slowly, feeling more in control. “I love you, Blue.”

“I love you, Yoongi,” you gasp. Yoongi pins your hands at your sides, lacing your fingers with his.

He’s so pretty with his face flushed. He looks softer with the needy expressions he’s making. Your legs wrap around his waist, trapping him close to you. Yoongi likes it when you get clingy and territorial. It makes him feel wanted.

You sleep hours later with your leg over his hip and his cock nestled inside you. He had managed to snooze off too. Granted, right before your alarm rings, he’s already thrusting into you. You hold onto his back, moaning into his ear and leaving scratch marks behind.

The next day you leave for work, not before Yoongi scents you and fucks you in the shower. The water washing away the remains of him. When you return in the afternoon, he waits for you, shirtless and in sweatpants laying low. He takes you against the door, jeans down to your knees.

By the third day, Yoongi is high and lazy from fucking you so much. He lets you take control, and you ride him lazily, his hands tracing the bruises on your body, some accidental, some on purpose. In his moments of lucidity, he apologizes for the roughness. It’s never his intention to hurt you. You always so kindly wave him off. You don’t care about them, just that your kitty is getting the relief he needs.

You’ve received strange looks at work, and you later learn by visiting Tae it’s because you smell like Yoongi, your usual florals and chocolate scent are almost gone. Only hybrids notice that, so Yoongi also leaves hickeys on your neck (which you hide) for the humans that might want to try something.

By the fourth day, his heat is over. You sneak out of bed to go to work and let Yoongi rest. He’s as still as the dead, exhausted and spent. When you return from work, you smell home-cooked food, and the table is set romantically with flowers in the center and candles.

“You’re home,” Yoongi says, kissing you gently, “Come, I’ve prepared you a bath.”

He leads you to the bathroom, where the tub is steaming with bath salts and bath bombs, more candles are alight, and a glass of wine rests by the tub. Yoongi helps you undress, kissing each and every bruise on your body. You giggle at certain parts as you’re ticklish. Then he offers his hand to help you into the tub.

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be finishing up dinner,” he softly smiles at you.

You relax into the water and nod. Yoongi didn’t have to do any of this; it’s not like he can control his heat. It has you feeling cared for, though, and that’s something you can’t take for granted. When you get dressed, you both have dinner. He apologizes again and hopes he didn’t scare you away. You reassure him he didn’t. You even tell him you found most of it hot, including the breeding kink that came naturally with him.

Yoongi blushes and says ‘noted’ under his breath. The rest of the night, you and Yoongi cuddle, and before bed, he gives you a massage. You tell him he’s going overboard, but he insists, and who are you to refuse?

Days later, you take a pregnancy test, scared of the result. You have no symptoms, but the amount of times you and Yoongi had sex is unholy, and you’re afraid your birth control pills might’ve failed you. His heat clouds his mind, it’s designed to breed and reproduce. Each time he came, he did it inside of you. You know your birth control is 95% effective, yet what’s to stop you from being that 5%. You’re not ready for children. It’s not something you’ve spoken about, either. You pick up the test with shaking hands once the alarm goes off. It’s negative.

○●○●○●○●○●

There are days when you are too busy to go out for lunch. Today is one of those days. Luckily, Yoongi offers to bring you food for when you have time to eat something. It’s his first time visiting you at work, and he realizes he doesn’t know exactly where you work. He always thought you worked at the multi-office building near the corner.

When he follows the direction, it leads him to the building he despises. You never told Yoongi you work there. Feeling uncomfortable, he walks in, where a receptionist greets him, “Hello, how can I help you today?”

Yoongi tells her your name. It feels foreign on his tongue. He’s always called you Blue, and very few people call you by your government name as it is.

“Oh, you must be Yoongi! She told me you’d be coming. Take this pass. Her office is to the left on the 30th floor. You’ll see her name on the door.”

That’s a high number. In fact, it’s one of the few at the top. Usually, that means a high position, but you’ve never really talked about your job. Yoongi knocks on the frosted glass door with your name on it, preceded by Prod.

He wants to leave. How come you never told him you were a producer? That seems like the thing to say when your boyfriend owns a Music Store. You had told him you loved music, and that was it. Anyone can love music and not be involved at all. Not even that whenever he asked about work, you’d say you didn’t like talking about it to keep things separate. How many songs has he heard on the radio that you worked on?

He gets no response, so he opens the frosted glass door he sees a studio with state-of-the-art equipment. You were at the desk with big headphones covering your ears. He could hear a beat coming from them. He taps you on your shoulder, and you jump in surprise.

“Yoongi!” You say loudly, forgetting the headphones on your ears. “Oops, sorry.”

“Hey, I got your food,” he says, raising the plastic bag, but his eyes can’t stop taking in the studio and all the tools you had.

“You are a lifesaver,” you gush, grabbing the bag from him to open it.

“You never mentioned you were a producer,” he clicks his tongue in mild annoyance.

“I didn’t?” you ask, distracted by the food, “Huh, well, this where I work, always at your service.”

“Your boyfriend works at a Music Store, and you forget to mention your work in music,” Yoongi says sarcastically.

“I did say I worked at this building,” you roll your eyes with a smile thinking his joking.

“I always thought it was the other one with the medical offices,” he coughs, scratching the back of his neck in awkwardness.

“This is a huge miscommunication, my bad,” you say sheepishly, taking a bite of the sushi he bought for you.

Yoongi doesn’t know how to feel. He hates the building company for denying him the opportunity of becoming an artist. They were clearly against him being a hybrid despite having the talent. And here you are, working happily in what he wanted. You’re living his dream. It should make you perfect for him, yet all he feels is resentment.

You don’t sense his internal ‘debate’ as you eat. You’re too much in your head over the deadlines you have to meet. It doesn’t work in your favor as Yoongi leaves with a kiss on your cheeks with the excuse of a delivery to the shop. He had to get out of there and think clearly before he blew up on you.

He spends the whole day thinking about how you can work in a company that is against hybrids. He lets his losses get to him and project to you. So when you arrive at his apartment that night to spend time with him, he doesn’t greet you and just spits out, “How can you work in that company?”

“Excuse me?” You ask him, confused you haven’t even taken off your coat.

“That’s such a horrible company, Blue! They discriminate against hybrids. I can’t believe you’d work in such a place,” he argues, standing before you. His posture is tense and his ears and tail lay flat against his body.

“Yoongi, what the fuck? What are you going on about? The company is not against hybrids,” You exclaim, taking a step back.

“Of course they are. I lived through it,” Yoongi reveals.

You pause with wide eyes, “When? You’ve never mentioned it before.”

“Five years ago, I went to audition as a producer. They said that despite my talent, they wouldn’t hire me,” he says, fingers raking through his dark hair.

“That’s unbelievable,” you huff, crossing your arms defensively. Many hybrids work at the company, and she’s never heard complaints of the boss treating them poorly.

“How can you not believe me, your boyfriend, and believe the awful people,” Yoongi scolds her angrily. You can’t be so blind.

“Because that’s my family!” You yell, shutting him up.

“What?” Yoongi goes slack at your words.

“My dad is the company’s CEO, and I can assure you we are not discriminatory against hybrids. For fucks sake, Yoongi, you’ve met Jungkook. Would people who hate hybrids adopt one?”

You don’t like to pull out often that your dad is the CEO of the family company, but this is Yoongi you’re talking to. He cares about you, and you’ve been together long enough that it feels okay for him to know. Besides, maybe this way, he’ll understand that what he says is a lie.

His following words slip with little thought. “Who knows, maybe you just want to look good to the public?”

“If that’s what you think, fine. I’m leaving,” you respond firmly. You will not take anyone speaking shit about your family. It hurts you to hear him say those things. By insulting your family, he insults you too.

You hope Yoongi stops you, but he doesn’t. He knows what he was told. He stays silent, waiting for you to go. He’s set on his way.

It’s one long week where you barely talk to Yoongi. You give him time to apologize or reach out, but he doesn’t. When he realizes his mistake of comparing you to the ones that hurt him, you don’t answer.

○●○●○●○●○●

It has to be a mistake. There is no way your father, who runs the company, turned someone down for being a hybrid. Hell, half of the staff are hybrids. Producers, artists, HR, everything. There are hybrids in all departments. How come Yoongi didn’t see that when he visited.

You’ve spent enough time stewing on this. Time to go to the source, your father. You knock on his office door and hear faintly, “Come in.”

“Darling, how nice of you to visit your old man,” your dad jokes, standing from his desk to hug you.

“Sorry, dad, I’ve been swamped,” you apologize, plopping down on one of the plush chairs in front of his desk.

“I know, I’ve seen your reports, and you’re doing well. I’m proud of you,” he smiles at his daughter, expecting one in return. Instead, she plays with a loose thread on her sweater, not paying attention to him. “What troubles you?”

“You know the guy I’m dating,” you sigh, looking up at your dad.

“Yoongi, yes,” he nods, remembering everything you’ve told him about Yoongi.

“Apparently, he auditioned here like 7-ish years ago, and he says that you or whoever was in his audition didn’t accept him because he was a hybrid,” you say. It’s best not to beat around the bush.

“Really?” He asks, concerned, “Let me look it up.”

In times like these, he’s glad the company keeps a database of all the auditions and interview processes. One of his goals as CEO is to eliminate barriers between all kinds of people, giving them all a fair chance of working here.

“I have his file up. I remember him. He was very talented. He never came back. What a shame,” he hums, rewatching the audition.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“I couldn’t accept him at the time, but I told him to come in a year or two for another audition,” your father explains, passing you a flash drive with the audition.

“Why didn’t you accept him at the time?”

“It wouldn’t be beneficial for him at the time the regulations for hybrids in big companies were not good. They basically required full background screenings and medical exams. And the health benefits were basically nonexistent. Most hybrids don’t have past experiences, and if they do, they’re bad not because they are, but because of the situation they are put through. It wasn’t until a year later they eliminated that law, and their rights were looking better.”

“That makes sense,” you sigh in relief. You shouldn’t have doubted your family.

“If he wants, he can have another audition. You know we’re always looking for new producers.”

“Thanks, dad, I’ll mention it to him,” you smile, leaving.

This is great! Yoongi can audition, and he’ll be able to work alongside you. You just know he’ll do so well. He already has an excellent ear for music. He may be a bit rusty, but nothing a little practice can’t help. She can lend him a hand too!

“Send him my apologies. I never wanted it to seem the wrong way.”

“I will,” you say, rushing out the door.

A knock on the door interrupts Yoongi’s evening nap. He opens the door expecting Jimin or Jin, but you’re at the door with your arms crossed.

“You’re an idiot,” you shoulder him to walk into the apartment.

“I know. I’m sorry, Blue, I shouldn’t have overreacted and assumed things about you,” Yoongi sincerely apologizes.

“You think?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m apologizing, don’t be a bitch,” Yoongi pouts, not liking your attitude.

“It’s just you infuriate me. I’ve been good to you. I don’t think I’ve ever done something to hurt you, and if I have, I’m sorry. But what you did was so unfair. Even if my family were as horrible as you made them seem, I’m not them. And I haven’t given you a reason to believe that,” you lightly argue. You’re not looking to pick a fight. You just want him to understand.

Yoongi hugs you from behind. His words don’t mean anything right now. He lets you vent. You relax against him eventually, grabbing the arms that were around you.

“I talked to my dad,” you whisper, “you misunderstood the situation, Yoongs.”

“Blue, I’m sure of what I heard,” he whispers back.

“My dad records his auditions for moments like this,” you say, handing him the flash drive. “You were great Yoong’s, and they would’ve hired you. They didn’t because it wouldn’t have been helpful for you.”

You explain the situation and your father’s words. If he had gone through the audition, the government tracking hybrids wouldn’t process his applications. That’s why your father told him to return.

“I-how could I have misunderstood this so badly,” Yoongi sighs defeated. He could’ve been so much happier sooner if he had only listened. He could’ve been a producer already. He would’ve met you a long time ago as well.

“It was seven years ago. You were hurt and wanted a reason to be mad,” you comfort him.

“I’ve spent seven years glaring at the building for nothing,” Yoongi humorously laughs.

“My dad says if you want an audition, you have it,” you tell him.

“Really?” Yoongi looks at you, “I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore. I gave up on that dream long ago.”

Being a producer was his biggest dream, yet after the disappointment, he instilled in himself, he came to the conclusion that giving up on his dream was for the best. Now he’s not sure he can visualize himself as a producer.

“If you change your mind, the opportunity is there.”

○●○●○●○●○●

Your relationship has kept you so busy you can’t remember the last time you went out with Hoseok and Tae to karaoke. You send them a quick text, and they both agree to meet. As per their request, you bring Yoongi and Jungkook along. The more, the merrier.

Hoseok and Tae are waiting when you get there. They’ve already picked a room. The group orders drinks, which quickly creates a buzz in the room. It takes them no less than 20 minutes to get the party going.

While you and Taehyung duet an old 80s song, Hoseok approaches Yoongi. He’d heard about Yoongis’s job offer and wondered if he would take it.

“You said no?” Hoseok repeats, his facial expression clearly surprised.

“Yeah,” Yoongi nods, taking a sip from his drink. He lightly laughs at you and Tae’s terrible rendition.

“Why? I thought it was your dream,” Hoseok asks. He knows what the job entitles. He’s worked at the company for some years now. It’s challenging and frustrating. It’ll drain you of all inspiration faster than you’d think, yet he wouldn’t do anything else in the world. His stunt at the cafe months ago confirmed that.

“It is or was. I don’t know; I feel out of touch. When I went to Blue’s office, there was so much equipment I hadn’t even seen. It’s been a while since I’ve produced too. I write less and less as the years go on,” Yoongi sighs, being honest with Hoseok.

“How about you come to my studio this week? Check it out. I can show you around. It’s not as intimidating as it seems, and I know you’ve got the talent,” Hoseok offers kindly, no strings attached.

In his mind giving Yoongi space from you is good. That way, Yoongi is not pressured to agree with whatever you say or do.

“You’ve never heard anything of mine,” Yoongi rebukes.

“Haven’t I, Gloss?” Hoseok laughs.

Yoongi’s expression is priceless. He left the underground business when he got rejected by your company. He hasn’t been called that in years.

“That’s right, I know my people,” Hoseok laughs. He didn’t recognize him at the cafe, but after you told him about the audition, he did some digging.

“Alright, I’ll go check it out,” Yoongi nods.

Maybe Hoseok was right. Perhaps an hour or two in a neutral studio can inspire or convince him. He doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but he never envisioned himself working his whole life at the music store.

“Yoongi, come on, it’s our turn,” Jungkook calls over, holding a microphone.

○●○●○●○●○●

Yoongi returns to your apartment the morning after. The smell hits him as he exits the elevator- someone is in heat. He ignores it, but the closer he gets to your door, the harder it is to ignore. Realizing it’s coming from your apartment, he rushes in to find you pacing in the living room in distress.

“What are you doing here while Jungkook is in heat?” Yoongi hisses, staying by the door.

“Thank god you’re here, Yoongi! I don’t know what to do. This hasn’t happened before,” you cry, hugging your boyfriend.

With his arms around you, Yoongi drags you outside, closing the door behind you guys. The more distance between you and Jungkook, the better. If the smell is strong in the hallway, he can’t imagine being inside it. He fears the effect it can have on him if he breathes the scent for too long. It’s not uncommon for a hybrid’s heat to trigger another’s.

“What do you mean this is the first time it happens?” Yoongi asks. Jungkook is a 21-year-old hybrid. He must’ve gotten his heat around 7 or 8 years ago.

“Jungkook usually takes these pills to ease off his heat. He’s been taking them ever since he got his first one. I think he hasn’t been taking them ’cause he’s been spending more time in my apartment.” You try to explain, although you know very little about the subject, despite living with a hybrid for most of your childhood.

Jungkook’s bunny habits are well known in your family, and you’ve learned about hybrids, too, because of him. Heats, though, was always a subject Jungkook kept to himself because he didn’t feel comfortable sharing that part of his life with his sister. When the first one rolled around, it wasn’t so bad, and after your parents offered him the pills, he accepted. Since then, he hasn’t paid much attention to it.

It all makes sense to Yoongi now. The pills you talk about are expensive but highly effective. They basically stop a hybrid from having heat or make them asymptomatic. He’s never had the luxury of taking them, but he’s heard much about them. Enough to know that Jungkook’s heat will be more intense after not having it for so many years.

“This is bad, Blue!” Yoongi tells you, hands on your shoulders.

“What am I going to do? He’s in so much pain and won’t stop sweating and groaning!” You exclaim on the verge of tears.

“There is nothing to do,” Yoongi carefully says, “Pack a bag. We can go to my apartment while he rides this through.”

“There has to be something, Yoongi. I can’t just leave him like that!” You’re upset he would suggest leaving your brother behind in such conditions.

Your worry about Jungkook is blinding you. The gravity of the situation not making sense to you. So Yoongi takes it upon himself to explain, “He’ll be uncomfortable and in pain, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’ll survive, and in a few days, he’ll be good as new. Your presence here can make things much worse, Blue.”

“How can you say that? I saw you when you were in heat, and I was with you. I hated seeing you like that. How do you expect me to ignore Jungkook’s pain and pretend it’s not there.” You interrupt him in distress.

“Because the only way he’ll feel relieved is for him to fuck someone. He needs to get off to relieve his temperature and relieve the pain. That’s a heat. And unless someone magically appears and volunteers, there’s nothing you can do,” Yoongi grits out, frustrated at the situation. Jungkook’s strong scent started to fuzz his brain.

“Yoongi! There has to be something….” You say, not believing Yoongi’s words.

He’s getting mad that you’re not listening, and his following words come out rough, “I already told you, have sex with Jungkook or get out.”

“I’m not doing that. He’s my brother!” You and Jungkook might not be related by blood, but you can’t find it in yourself to have sex with him. If you could, you would, but you don’t believe either can get through the mental block. Ruining your relationship with your brother is not in your plans any time soon.

“Adopted brother,” Yoongi points out. You hit him in the arm, angry at his unhelpful responses, which only gets him angrier.

“Fine, get him a hooker. That will get him feeling good in no time. Still, we have to leave.” Yoongi insists, desperate to get out of the building before he gets horny.

“He is not having sex with a stranger. I refuse!”

“Well, that only leaves me, and that’s not happening,” Yoongi replies, crossing his arms.

You pause your argument, thinking it wouldn’t be the most outrageous idea. If someone were to help him, Yoongi would be perfect for it. He’s a hybrid, too, who has had to go through his ruts mostly alone.

“Are you set on that?” You ask with a grimace. You feel bad asking this of Yoongi, but you’re desperate to help Jungkook.

He looks at you in disbelief, “You are not suggesting I have sex with your brother?”

“Yoongi, just help him for now. I know the first day is the worst. Just for today, help him, please.”

“Blue, do you understand what you’re saying?” He understands what you’re saying but is unsure you do. This is a lot, and the worst part is that he’s actually considering it. It must be Jungkook’s pheromones all in the air affecting his.

“Yes, I do. I know this isn’t romantic or anything. You’re only helping him.” you nod, decided.

“Once,” Yoongi grits out, a dead serious look on his face. “I’ll be helping him this once but never again.”

“Okay,” you nod, at a loss for words.

Yoongi shoves his keys in your hands, “Go to my apartment. I’ll get there later with your bag.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You speak before walking down the hallway. Before entering the elevator, you look back at Yoongi, who nods at the elevator, urging you to go. He doesn’t want you in the vicinity if he’s doing this.

He takes a minute to himself, gathering the courage to do this. All doubt disappears when he opens the door and breathes in Jungkook’s pheromones. He finds Jungkook’s room and opens the door. The bunny is lying face down in bed naked. His hips rutting into the bed to feel any type of relief. His back glistens with sweat, and his dark hair sticks to his neck.

“Hey, Kook,” Yoongi says, walking to the bed.

“Yoongi?” Jungkook says in a haze, propping himself up on his elbows, but his thrusting doesn’t cease. If he were in his right mind, he’d instantly stop and cover up. He didn’t want to, though. He had to make the pain disappear.

“I’m here to help. Is that okay?” Yoongi asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Please,” Jungkook chokes, “It hurts so much.”

“I’ll take care of you,” Yoongi soothes him, a long finger trailing down his back. Reaching the base of his spine Yoongi tugs on the black cottontail. Jungkook whines thrusting harder against the mattress.

“Turn around,” Yoongi softly tells him.

Jungkook shakes his head, “I can’t-“

“If you don’t, then I can’t touch you, and you want me to touch you, right?” Yoongi asks him. Being in heat messes with every thought in your head. It makes hybrids think that even the smallest actions are impossible, and Jungkook suppressing his heat brings him back to step one.

With a groan Jungkook turns his body around, his cock bobs up and down as he settles on his back. Yoongi licks his lips, the bunny is so hard and ready to burst there’s a steady stream of precum coating his head.

Yoongi’s hand slides down Jungkook’s chest, admiring the hard muscle. It continues to trail down his abdomen until it reaches his pelvis. The younger boy’s hips rut, feeling Yoongi’s hands close to his cock.

Jungkook has not stopped moaning once, every little touch sending him waves of painful pleasure. He begs Yoongi to do anything, touch him, fuck him, suck him. Getting more comfortable between Jungkook’s legs, Yoongi starts stroking him. The bunny is hot and heavy in his palm. He spits in his hand for good measure, but it’s barely necessary. His thumb brushes over the dark pink tip, spreading the milky liquid down his shaft.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses, hand tugging at his hair and hips thrusting into Yoongi’s palm. His abs tense, showcasing the hard muscle underneath. It’s a sight for sore eyes that makes Yoongi’s pants tighten. Yoongi might’ve done this as a favor to you both, but he will enjoy this as much as he can.

“Look at me, Kook,” Yoongi calls the youngest’s attention, “Focus on me.”

The bunny’s hazy stare lands on the cat hybrid on top of him. He is also sweating, feeling the heat of the moment. His feline eyes are calculating, afraid of missing any of Jungkook’s response to his touch. The wet noise Yoongi’s hand makes as he flicks his wrist fills the room along with the bunny’s pleas.

Jungkook tries hard to keep his eyes on Yoongi, but when he feels his peak near, his eyes roll back, and his mouth opens. “That’s it, bunny, cum,” the cat hybrid encourages him, “You’ll feel so much better.”

Jungkook groans, feeling his peak, and it’s like some of the heat has dissipated. Ropes of white paint Yoongi’s hand and Jungkook’s stomach. Raising his hand to his lips, Yoongi licks the bunny’s cum, tasting him. Fuck, did he taste good. It would be a shame for Jungkook to miss it.

Leaning over, Jungkook Yoongi says, “Open your mouth, bunny.”

Jungkook doesn’t understand why but tentatively opens his mouth. Yoongi grabs his cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger and lets his saliva mixed with Jungkook’s cum, drip into the bunny’s mouth.

“Now swallow,” Yoongi orders him.

Jungkook obeys the cat hybrid, swallowing his spit. He never thought his own taste would arouse him and make him hard again in seconds. He blames it on the heat. With his temperature rising, Jungkook grabs Yoongi’s sides and flips them over. He kisses his sister’s boyfriend hard, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his pale neck, leaving a hard bite behind.

“Fuck,” Yoongi moans. He had forgotten that bunnies like to bite.

Jungkook needs to feel him close, touch him, taste him too. He takes off Yoongi’s hoodie and his t-shirt touching the older guy’s chest. He continues to kiss the cat hybrid, even biting his pouty lips. Yoongi lets him be in control for now. Jungkook needs to enjoy himself too.

Jungkook’s hard-on presses against Yoongi’s lower stomach, and feeling the skin-on-skin contact, Jungkook begins to thrust again, moaning into Yoongi’s mouth.

Jungkook is curious, curious about Yoongi and his body. He’s touched and kissed parts of him, but now he wants it all. With a goal in mind, Jungkook’s hand trails down the cat hybrid’s body to palm his length over his pants. Yoongi moans are swallowed by Jungkook, who continues to feverishly kiss him, but when he reaches for his belt, Yoongi stops him.

“Not today, bunny,” he breathes, the grip on Jungkook’s wrist tight, “Today, I get to use you as I please.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, his brown eyes filled with disappointment.

“You heard me,” Yoongi says, sliding out from under him, “Sit up.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Yoongi kneels between his muscular legs.

Jungkook’s cock is equally hard as in the beginning, begging for attention. With a hand on Jungkook’s knee and another on his cock, Yoongi licks a stripe along the vein that runs up the shaft, instantly making Jungkook release a throaty moan.

“Look at me, bunny,” Yoongi purrs, “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”

Jungkook’s head snaps back down to stare at Yoongi, whose wet tongue licks the head of his cock. He coats the entire length with his spit with kisses and licks. Yoongi’s pink lips momentarily wrap around his cockhead as his tongue swirls the tip. He knows he’s teasing the poor bunny. It’s his way of pleasure to see the younger hybrid fall to pieces in splutters and stutters.

Yoongi teases him, going slow and shallow, drawing little whines from Jungkook’s swollen lips. Jungkook tries to push his cock more into Yoongi’s mouth, but the cat already sees it coming and pulls away.

“Yoongi, pl-ease,” Jungkook begs, teary-eyed. By now, he’s long forgotten about pleasing Yoongi as the fever inside of him gets higher.

“What’s that, Kook?” Yoongi feigns innocence, a string of saliva attaching him to Jungkook’s hard cock.

“D-don’t tease,” Jungkook stutters out. He tries to stroke himself in desperate need, only for Yoongi to stop him.

“So impatient,” Yoongi chastises, holding Jungkook’s wrist tightly, “Hands on your sides.”

Jungkook complains at the request, earning a glare from the cat hybrid, “If you’re not going to listen, I’ll leave,” he threatens. He’s just like his sister. For a moment, Yoongi entertains the idea of dominating you both simultaneously. What a treat it would be.

“No, no!” Jungkook exclaims, grabbing fistfuls of the crumpled bedsheets.

Yoongi smirks at the pretty bunny above him. His hair is messy from raking his fingers through it, long floppy ears falling to the sides, and cheeks flushed with arousal. He wants Jungkook to feel all the pleasure he can. While having sex without the rut is nice and fun, there’s something so satisfying about sex while in heat. No matter how small, every touch is amplified and can push you to the edge.

Now that Jungkook is obedient, Yoongi takes his length back into his mouth. He works getting most of Jungkook down his throat, Yoongi’s eyes water, but it doesn’t stop him. Bobbing his head to a steady rhythm, he sucks Jungkook off, his tongue occasionally dipping into the slit of his tip. The bunny is trying his best, the veins running up his arms popping from the tight grip on the bed. When Yoongi takes him deeper than before, the grip loosens as his right hand goes to the base of his cat ears.

Almost instantly, Yoongi purrs around his cock, enticing Jungkook to thrust up. It feels so good it’s overwhelming. With Jungkook pushing on his head Yoongi deep throats him, his nose brushing against the bunny’s base. Yoongi will never admit that while it hurts, he loves the feeling of a big cock down his throat.

With a few more bobs of Yoongi’s head, Jungkook bursts. His cum runs down the cat hybrid’s throat. Yoongi breathes heavily when he releases Jungkook. His eyes are red and watery, as are his nose and mouth. He continues to lightly lick Jungkook, entertained by the way his bunny ears twitch at the feeling.

Yoongi gets up from the floor as Jungkook falls back on the bed. The bunny hybrid is exhausted as his fever goes down to a normal temperature. Yoongi helps him lie back properly and covers him with the wrinkly bedsheet. Before Yoongi leaves the room, he brushes through Jungkook’s hair with his fingers, lightly rubbing the base of his bunny ears. The sleepy bunny makes an appreciative sound as his touch lulls him to sleep completely.

This is the worst of the heat. He should be able to take care of himself from tomorrow onwards. Yoongi leaves the food and water ready for Jungkook by the nightstand. Hopefully, when he’s awake, he’ll feel better.

Yoongi goes to your room to pack your bag. In there, your scent hits him mixed with Jungkook’s pheromones. If the bunnies had driven him mad, yours added to the mix just about ended him.

He lies in your bed by your pillow where your scent is strongest. It only takes him a second to undo his belt and pull his throbbing cock out of his pants. Spitting in his hand Yoongi flicks his wrist quickly, needing a release. He had his reasons for not letting Jungkook touch him, one being that it wouldn’t be fair for the bunny hybrid. He’d been in pain for too long. The other reason was you. He’d happily done this favor for you, but now you had to pay up.

Reaching a moment of clarity, Yoongi slows his pace until he stops right before his release. He stands from the bed, tucking himself in again uncomfortably, and prepares your bag. As soon as he gets to his apartment, he’ll have his way with you, and the pent-up frustration will be worth it.

○●○●○●○●○●

Almost a year into the relationship, you decide it’s time for Yoongi to meet your parents. You organize a nice dinner at your parent’s house, they don’t have to do anything you’ll be the one cooking and setting the table.

Yoongi would get there later, Jungkook as well. You thought it would be nice to have moral support. Unfortunately, you took so long to cook that Yoongi arrived while you were getting ready, which means that your dad got the pleasure of greeting him at the door.

“Ah, if it isn’t Yoongi,” your dad exclaims cheerily, opening the door wider for Yoongi.

“Hello, I got this for you,” Yoongi nervously hands him a bottle of wine. It’s the one you mentioned your dad likes.

“I was hoping it would be the flowers,” your dad jokes, happily taking the wine.

“Is that Yoongi?” A friendly voice calls from the kitchen. Your mom walks out, surprising Yoongi with a warm hug. He hands her the flowers, which she gushes about. “Such a polite boy, don’t be shy. We don’t bite, we’ll except for Jungkookie.”

Yoongi stifles a smile because doesn’t he know it. Not only has he witnessed Jungkook shamelessly biting you when you get distracted, but that day where he needed help with his heat he left Yoongi with a few nasty marks. Marks which you later covered with your own.

“Honey, I’ll be showing Yoongi my office. We’ll be back soon,” your dad says, patting Yoongi on the back.

Yoongi is nervous, terrified even. His cat ears flatten as he follows your dad to his office. He’s only heard good things about him from you, but how reliable is that? Of course, he’s good to you and Jungkook, his kids. Yoongi is a stranger.

Yoongi sits in one of the chair desks awkwardly, looking around the room. Your dad looks him up and down as if deciding on Yoongi. From looks alone, Yoongi seems like a good man, but he needs to make his concerns known.

“Why are you with my daughter?” He asks straight to the point, his friendly smile disappearing.

“Because I love her,” Yoongi responds as best as he can.

There are a million reasons why he is with you. You’re kind, pretty, intelligent, sexy, talented, honest, and so much more. Despite all the arguments you’ve had you’ve never brought the fact his a hybrid into it. All those qualities led him to love you, the most important reason he is with you.

“It has nothing to do with her job and position in the company? How it may benefit you, Yoongi?” Your dad asks. If he didn’t ask these questions, he wouldn’t be doing his job as a father. The older man needs peace of mind that Yoongi’s intentions are the right ones.

“No. I didn’t even know she worked there till two months ago. By then, I had already fallen in love with her. I wouldn’t take advantage of her that way even if I had known before. Blue is one of the kindest people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

Your father’s tense posture relaxes, and his grin returns, “Good answer. I hope you understand why I had to ask the question. I am only a concerned father.”

“I do. Can I ask a question myself?”

“Go ahead.”

“You don’t mind that your daughter is dating a hybrid?” Yoongi insecurely asks.

“Not at all. I believe hybrids are equal, if not better, than regular humans. My children have the liberty of dating whoever they please, and I’ll approve as long as they are treated with love and respect.”

Hybrids have a good judge of character, and Yoongi can tell that he is honest and means what he says. Fear aside, he is happy to have had this conversation with your dad.

“Daddy, Yoongi?” You call them, walking in the direction of the office.

“In here, sweetheart,” your dad responds.

“Dad, stop questioning Yoongi. It’s time for dinner,” you tell him, shooting Yoongi a reassuring grin.

“I wasn’t questioning, just having a man-to-man conversation,” he says, walking out of the office.

“Mhm,” you say, rolling your eyes. He does this with each boyfriend you’ve brought home.

“Hi, handsome,” you greet Yoongi, holding out your hand for him to take. He dressed up for the occasion, wanting to impress. He succeeded.

“Hey, Blue,” he says, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. “You look pretty.”

“Thanks,” you peck him on the lips, brushing your thumb on his lips to get rid of the remaining lipstick.

“I heard that!” Your dad screams from the stairs with a laugh.

“Keep walking, old man,” you yell back, shaking your head with a smile.

Dinner was fun, and Yoongi felt like he was with family. Your family was very much like you, kind and accepting. Funny as hell, he smiled or laughed throughout most of the dinner. If he had to guess, he would’ve never known your dad was the CEO of a family company. He was very down to earth.

Not that he doubted, but your parents truly treated Jungkook as their own. The bunny hybrid has all of this family wrapped around his little finger. You grab his hand under the table and smile at him. He smiles back sincerely. He can see himself being part of this family for a long time. It heals the part of his broken heart that he thought was beyond repair.

“Let me go get dessert,” your mom announces, sanding from the table.

“I’ll help,” Yoongi pipes up, following the older lady to the kitchen.

“Now that I’ve got you here, I want to thank you,” your mom says as she cuts the chocolate cake you baked earlier.

“What for?” Yoongi asks, handing her the plates to place the cakes on.

“For helping our Jungkookie out,” she casually mentions.

Yoongi chokes on his own saliva, his mind going straight to him helping Jungkook through his heat. It was a given that it was something to keep to themselves. How close is Jungkook to his mom that he felt it was okay to tell her that Yoongi gave him not only a handjob but a blowjob? Furthermore, how can she be okay with her daughter’s boyfriend handing out favors like that to her son?

“He loves those damn vynils so much, he wouldn’t stop talking about how you gave him two limited edition ones,” she fondly laughs at her son.

“Oh, that. Yeah, no problem,” Yoongi sighs in relief. His spirit had left his body for a moment there.

“Let’s go before they start talking about the company. The dinner table is a no-work conversation zone,” your mom says, ushering Yoongi out of the kitchen as she hears her husband talking about numbers and beats.

○●○●○●○●○●

Tuesday, after dropping off lunch at your office Yoongi wanders to Hoseoks office, taking him up on his offer. He knocks, waiting for his new friend to open the door. Hoseok gives him a small tour of his studio and explains some of the newer equipment’s purposes to adjust Yoongi to the environment. Hoseok was right. This isn’t as intimidating as he’d thought. In fact, once he got the hang of it, inspiration returned to him.

“Go on, try and make a beat,” Hoseok encourages him. He already loves what Yoongi has to offer based on conversations alone. One of the reasons he left the company for a few months was for lack of inspiration. Although talented, none of the other producers offered something that spoke to him.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Yoongi tells Hoseok, knowing he is imposing on his work schedule.

“I have a meeting now, actually. It should take about two hours. Have fun,” Hoseok says, picking up his jacket from a small sofa off to the corner. Without looking behind him, he leaves Yoongi alone in the studio. Looking at the closed door, Yoongi shrugs and puts on the headphones, working on a melody that has been bothering him for the past two years. Might as well.

Getting the hang of the equipment, he falls deep into a creative flow. He barely notices time go by. The piano notes carry him to new places in his mind as they fall into place in the track. It’s like a dam has been broken down. All he has flowing down at torrential speeds, with no one there to stop him.

A hand on his shoulder makes him jump and tear the headphones from his ears. Heightened senses fail him as Hoseok stands behind him, looking amused at his startled expression.

“The meeting ran late. I thought you’d gone home. Are you okay?” Hoseok asks. His two-hour meeting turned into four. The project’s creators fell into discord about what creative direction they should take it.

“I’m okay. I didn’t notice it had been two hours,” Yoongi says, looking at his watch.

“It be like that sometimes,” Hoseok giggles. He’s found himself in that position before. Music tends to dominate the creator most times. “Want to show me what you got?”

Yoongi nods, turning on the chair to give Hoseok a pair of headphones. Hoseok expected something good but unpolished, considering Yoongi’s time away from producing. The first note of the track proves him wrong. Hoseok does not speak for the duration of the track taking in the masterpiece Yoongi created.

Hoseok is amazed Yoongi managed to inspire him more than most of the producers that work in the company. It’s raw and heartfelt, honest. It comes from a place of experience.

“You did this in four hours?” Hoseok asks, amazed.

“I mean, I’ve had part of the melody for years, but the rest, yeah,” Yoongi says nervously. Does Hoseok think it’s trash?

“It’s phenomenal. You have to consider joining the company!”

“Seriously?”

“Yoongi, you’ve got me feeling more with that track than I have in a good while,” Hoseok confesses.

Hoseok is boosting Yoongi’s confidence and ego. He forgot the effect his music can have on people. It’s addicting.

Someone interrupts them by knocking on the door and peaking their head in. It’s a wolf hybrid Yoongi recognizes. “Namjoon?”

“Hi, Yoongi!” The hybrid smiles widely, fist-bumping him.

“I see you two know each other,” Hoseok says, searching for the hard drive Namjoon came for.

“Yeah, Yoongi sometimes comes to the concerts and helps sell tapes,” Namjoon says.

“Well, his girlfriend recruited you,” Hoseok tells him.

“Blue recruited him?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“Yeah, she bought one of his tapes from your store and liked what he had to offer,” Hoseok explains, handing Namjoon the hard drive.

“She hunted me down until I said yes,” Namjoon laughs, remembering that moment from months ago.

“Can I ask about the conditions of working here? With us being hybrids and all?” Yoongi asks Namjoon. While Hoseok has helped him so much, he needs the insight of a hybrid who works at the company to fully convince him.

“I can honestly say this job is one of the few that treats their workers equally. So far, I haven’t had a single bad or sketchy situation. If you have an opportunity to join, take it! It’d be nice to have you on the music scene again.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi has much to consider, but the more time he spends here, the more convinced he is.

○●○●○●○●○●

“What would you say if I accepted your dad’s job offer?” Yoongi asks you one night while you are getting ready for bed.

“I’d say I’m thrilled and proud of you, Yoongs,” you grin at him through the mirror.

“You wouldn’t mind working with me?” He says as he walks up behind you, eyes locked on you through the reflection.

“Not at all,” you shake your head, “I know it might seem like too much, but I assure you we won’t see each other so much that it’ll come to that.”

You and Hoseok barely see each other in the office since you mostly work on different projects. While Hoseok is a producer, he is also an artist, so he mainly works on his own stuff. On the other hand, you work for female artists and girl groups.

“I’m more worried about you being sick of me,” he jokes, throwing an arm over your chest to pull you close to him.

“Don’t be. I love you. When I get sick of you will be the day hell freezes over,” you say, looking up at him.

“I want to work on something that will make you proud and won’t make you regret your decision,” he whispers. He wants to be successful for you. You deserve only the best.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Yoongi. No matter what you do, ill be proud of it, even if it’s a kid’s song about tomatoes.” You think there is nothing Yoongi can do to disappoint you.

“I don’t think the parents will appreciate my swearing,” he admits with a laugh, knowing how much he swears.

You laugh along, “Me either. Maybe that will set you apart from the competition. Oh! How about a cursing alphabet?!”

“You’re a genius,” Yoongi fake gasps, making you giggle. He sweetly kisses your cheek, “Let’s go to bed.”

○●○●○●○●○●

Yoongi hires a new employee for the Music Store in a matter of weeks and begins his new job. As you said, he doesn’t get to see you much, if only brief glimpses in the hallway before you get pulled away to a meeting or studio.

With Hoseoks and Namjoon’s help, he quickly gets the hang of everything in the studio. Currently, he’s a producer. He creates music he likes and collaborates with artists who want to use his songs.

It’s been smooth sailing; his supervisors and senior producers are happy with his efficiency and creativity. They often seek him out for input on work of their own. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

He delves into his work, giving it his all. It’s everything he ever wanted and more. But with that also comes pressure. Pressure to improve and better himself. Like he wants to upstage himself every day, and that takes time.

○●○●○●○●○●

A Saturday morning two months after Yoongi began working at the company, you wake up to your boyfriend sitting at your desk working away.

He can’t hear you, as you call him, because of the massive headphones over his ears. You let the sheets fall off your naked body and walk over to him, sitting on his lap.

“Morning, Blue,” he says, kissing your head and hugging your waist, preventing you from sliding off his lap. Yet his eyes stay trained on the computer.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask, ignoring the computer to kiss his neck.

“Just finishing something up,” he sighs as his grip tightens on your hip.

“I was thinking we could go out today to the countryside, drive around and get some fresh air,” you suggest, brushing his hair away from his eyes. His cat ears flicker on the top of his head with the gesture.

“Give me an hour to finish this?” He asks, looking down at you.

“A kiss first,” you say.

Yoongi rolls his eyes with a smile and leans down to press his lips against yours. You pull him closer by the neck, deepening the kiss. You’ve missed him. Now that he doesn’t work at the store, he doesn’t have as much time to spare.

You see each other every day, mainly in the mornings and late at night when he returns from work. You haven’t said anything about the matter giving him time to adjust to his new job and schedule.

“Alright, one hour,” you say, standing from his lap. Before you walk away, you feel a smack to your butt. “Hey!”

“Couldn’t resist,” Yoongi laughs as you rub your butt cheek to soothe the sting.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you pout, escaping to the bathroom.

Yoongi quickly got ready one hour later, and you both headed off to the countryside. Yoongi drives your car with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh.

“Is it everything you expected it to be?” You ask Yoongi about his job.

“It’s better than I ever thought, Blue. And I have you to thank,” he says, squeezing your thigh.

“I mean, I only cleared up a misunderstanding. You’re doing all the work, Mr. Genius,” you grin.

Everything you’ve heard about Yoongi has been good. As a company member, it makes you happy that he works there, and as his girlfriend, it makes you proud. Everyone can see how amazing he is, and he’s all yours.

“Tell me, what songs have I heard that you’ve worked on,” he asks you.

The day was yours to enjoy, and you did. You needed this time with Yoongi. You had been so used to spending so much time together that you missed him like crazy.

Yoongi needed this too you are his inspiration, after all.

○●○●○●○●○●

Yoongi taps his foot on the floor of the elevator. The company’s CEO, aka your dad, called him up to his office. He sounded normal on the phone not mad, so maybe it’s just a catch-up?

Still, his survival instincts tell him he’s in trouble and should run. He shoves them to the back of his head as the elevator dings and opens its doors.

The secretary tells him to go on ahead into the office. Your dad is there, ruffling through paperwork and signing documents.

“Yoongi, you’re here, good!”

“Is everything alright?” Yoongi asks, sitting on the edge of the seat.

“Yes and no,” he says, folding his hands on the desk.

“Oh?” Yoongi simply responds over the knot in his throat.

“Relax, Yoongi, it’s nothing too bad,” the man reassures him,” I really like that track you submitted, as did many of the artists.”

“Really?” Yoongi says with a small smile.

“Yes, the problem is no one has managed to capture it as well as you,” the CEO explains.

“I’m sorry. Should I continue working on it? Submit a new track?” Yoongi’s insecurity causes him to ramble and miss the CEO’s point.

“No, Yoongi. I was actually thinking of you performing them,” he explains.

“But I’m not an artist; I’m a producer.”

“That’s true, but there’s one step more to become an artist, only if you’d like that,” the man says, offering Yoongi what most would believe is a promotion.

“You want me to be an artist?” Yoongi questions, did he hear right?

“Yes, much like Hoseok or Namjoon. You already have this track, and I know you’ve been working on others with those you can create an album,” the man suggests encouragingly. “What do you say?”

“What if people don’t like me?” Yoongi wonders.

“We can do a test, arrange for you to open for Hoseok’s show, and get a feel of the vibe,” your dad says.

“I’ll do it,” Yoongi nods, “Thank you, sir.”

○●○●○●○●○●

Depending on who you ask, the CEO’s decision was both good and bad. For Yoongi, it’s a dream come true. After he performed his single in Hoseok’s concert, it was clear that most loved the song and the passion Yoongi brought to the stage. You were in the crowd, cheering him on louder than anyone.

But with great power comes great responsibility. If Yoongi was a workaholic as a producer, he’s even more so as an artist working on his new album. He feels the need to prove a point and create a near-perfect album.

His days and nights are spent at the studio, and whenever he’s not there, he’s also at home working.

You have supported him every step, offering him advice when he asks. You make sure he eats at least two meals a day and sleeps a few hours a day.

As the weeks go by, it’s like your relationship has been on the back burner and is no longer a priority. You let it pass, knowing this is important to Yoongi. He’ll snap out of it soon enough.

As five o’clock comes around one Friday night, you go to Yoongis studio. You both get off work at the same time maybe you could go home together as well. Yoongi has been staying till nearly midnight in the studio this whole week and leaving home stupidly early. The only indication that he slept with you being the kisses on the forehead he gives you when he gets home.

You knock on the door in case he is in a meeting, but his voice lets you know you can go in. He’s slouched in his rolling chair as a beat replays on the speakers.

“You okay, Yoongs?” You ask, having the feeling that he’s not.

“Frustrated,” he says pointedly over the music.

Coming up behind him, you hug him as best you can. He grabs one of your arms around him and kisses the back of your hand.

“Take a break from it,” you say, “Let’s go home. You can come back Monday.”

“I can’t, Blue. I’m so close to finishing it,” Yoongi responds.

That seems to be his usual excuse nowadays ‘it’s almost done,’ and yet it’s not a lie. Yoongi just has a problem with self-control. As soon as he finishes a track, he starts another one.

Taking a more straightforward approach, you push his chair away from the desk, turning him around to face you. “You’re taking a break, Yoongi.”

“I don’t know, Blue,” he says, unconvinced.

“Yoongi, please,” you beg, sitting on his lap, “I need you,” you whisper in his ear.

Those words alone are enough to get Yoongi fired up. Guilt also seeps into his bones as he knows he’s neglected you a little. It’s been nearly two weeks since you’ve last been together, a rare occurrence. At a certain point in you’re relationship, you had sex every day of the week. He comes to the conclusion he has to pleasure you here and now. He can’t leave his Blue like this for another second.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you close to kiss you. The kiss soon turns frantic with wet tongues and harsh bites. Yoongi’s hand leaves your hip as the other caresses one of your thighs. Slowly it stops at your knee and gently forces it apart to trail his hand under your skirt. He first squeezes the inside of your thigh, eliciting a soft moan from your swollen lips. With his index and middle finger, he presses your center over the thin material of your underwear. Yoongi works his fingers around the area, feeling the wetness seep out of you.

“More,” you sigh over his pink lips. Pulling your panties to the side, he traces your outer lips with his fingers making you needier by the second. A series of begs come out of your mouth, urging him to fuck you with his fingers at least. Light as a feather, he touches your sopping center up and down, toying with your clit. Your hips twitch the slightest bit, pleasing him beyond extremes. He loves to see you struggle.

Dragging his index finger down your folds, he pushes his finger in. He groans into your mouth, forgetting how oh-so-tight you are. “Yes, Yoongi, just like that,” you sensually moan as he moves his finger in and out. Soon he adds another finger, and he feels as if his fingers almost suffocate with how tightly your gripping them. “Fuck Blue, such a tight pussy. Will you be able to take my cock?”

“I can do it, Yoongi,” You whine, laying your head on his shoulder. Yoongi scissors his fingers, stretching you out. He can’t wait to be inside of you. His cock becomes rock hard, straining under his tight jeans at the thought of using your pussy. How could he let so much time pass? He’s an idiot.

“You should cum over my fingers first,” he murmurs, using his thumb to rub her clit in fast circles. It’s his goal to make her cum around his fingers first. Feel her walls pulse and tighten even more.

You squirm on top of him, chasing your release. With a few more thrusts of his curling fingers, you become undone. Your body uncontrollably tenses on top of him, your teeth biting at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, causing him to moan. He hates to admit he likes that more than expected.

“Good girl, Blue,” Yoongi tells her, pulling his fingers out of her and spreading them to see the slickness between them. Your eyes watch as he places his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Fuck,” you moan out at the erotic sight. You need his cock now. Standing from the uncomfortable chair, you undo the zipper of your skirt and let it fall to the ground, along with your shirt. Next goes your bra and panties, which you throw with your foot in his direction. He is quick to catch them and stuff them in his pocket. It might not be the first time he sees you wholly naked, but what a sight you are. Standing as you came into the world in his studio confidently, you have curves in all the right places and perky tits with pink nipples topping them off.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” You say with a wicked grin.

“You’re perfect.” not the first and hopefully not the last time Yoongi grabs his phone and snaps a picture. It doesn’t beat the real deal, but it does get him off whenever you’re not around.

Not wanting to be left behind, Yoongi removes his hoodie and t-shirt in one motion. To tease your needy ass, he takes his time unbuttoning his jeans while keeping his eyes focused on you. You’re biting your lip and playing with one of your nipples as he does. Finally, he eliminates the last layer of clothing, leaving him bare in front of you. You moan at the sight of him. His cock big and thick, a vein running along its length, and his tip almost red. Wetness coats your thighs, your mind plays too many scenarios to comprehend.

Both take rapid steps towards the other and meet in the middle with a searing kiss with tongues twisting together in a dance. You roam your hands over his arms, pecs, and toned stomach. His black tail brushes against your side at the same time. Sneakily you grab his cock in your hands, pumping it a few times. Yoongi gasps, breaking their kiss as you touch his sensitive head, spreading his precum on his length. He leads you to the small leather couch in his office and makes you straddle him. “Are you ready, Blue?” He asks, rubbing his tip back and forth on your slit, getting it wet with your slick.

“Just do it, please,” you beg, touching his shoulders. Yoongi lines his cock with your entrance and slowly pushes you down on him. You feel inch after inch entering you. You missed the feeling of him stretching you out. All you can do is hold onto his strong shoulders and moan.

Yoongi has to concentrate hard on not finishing too soon. The way your warm walls feel around him is excruciatingly good. He takes a moment to compose himself before he begins to slowly and deeply thrust up into you. “That’s it, Blue. Take it all,” he groans.

“Fuck, Yoongi feels so good. I missed you,” you sob into his ear.

The room is humid, with sounds of moans and the slapping of skin. Yoongi picks up the pace, moving your hips to the rhythm he set to fuck harder into you. You bounce on top of him, sweat trailing down your neck and into your chest. Leaning forward, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling repeatedly. He swears he can feel you get wetter as it coats his cock and the top of his thighs.

“You’re driving me insane, Blue.” He’s losing control. There is no way he’s lasting much longer. The closer he gets, the more irregular his thrusts become. With his fingers digging into your hips, he shoots his load inside you as you moan at the sensation of being filled. It warms you up, and with his cock still inside you, you feel full and satisfied. You don’t care at the moment you didn’t get to finish, you relish being this close to Yoongi.

Yoongi lays limp under her for a second, eyes scrunched and teeth biting his lower lip. You spread kisses on his jaw and neck, leaving little marks behind that will fade by morning. His skin is sweaty yet delicious as you lick up the column of his neck. Tugging his lip away from his teeth, you softly kiss him, lips slotting together flawlessly.

Being the gentleman he is, Yoongi unexpectedly gets up, wraps your legs around him, and sits you on his desk. He pulls out of you and observes his seed seeping out of your pink pussy. Kneeling on the floor, he then licks up your slit. You cry out from the sudden pleasure and sink your fingers in his hair, causing him to purr. Locking eyes with you, he pushes his tongue into you, tasting a mix of you and him. He rubs your clit as he licks until you can barely speak.

“O-oh my g-god, kitty,” you mewl, tilting your head back and propping yourself up with a hand before you collapse on the control panel.

The way your body reacts assures Yoongi you’re close. Speeding up his movements, his lips wrap around your clit and suck. Finally, as you climax, he bites down gently on your bundle of nerves amplifying whatever you were feeling before. With toes curled and no control of your body, you push Yoongi away before you pass out from the pleasure.

Coming down from your high, you look at Yoongi and begin laughing, “That was fucking great.”

“I had to make up for lost time,” Yoongi chuckles, standing between your legs and hugging you.

“Let’s go home?” You plead with your eyes.

“Let’s go home, Blue,” he says, playing with a strand of your hair.

○●○●○●○●○●

You give your keys to your car to the valet and walk into the fancy restaurant. Your parents had invited you to dinner to catch up, Yoongi was supposed to come but last minute, said he couldn’t because he had a lot going on.

What you hoped was only a phase has become routine. Too many times, Yoongi has canceled on you or stood you up. He sleeps in your apartment but gets home exhausted and barely speaks to you. It’s incredibly frustrating.

You thank the waiter as he pulls your chair out for you and pushes you in. Your parents are already sitting with a glass of wine.

“How are you, honey?” Your mom asks sweetly.

“I’m okay,” you respond, trying to pretend you are okay when in reality, you’re not yourself.

You never wanted to become the girl dependent on her boyfriend. You like to believe you’re not her. Then why is Yoongi’s absence affecting you so much? You’re known at work for your cheery, happy songs, yet all you’ve written for the past few weeks have been sad songs. They are bangers, but not what your artists require.

As soon as you walked in, your mom knew something was off. You’re not carrying yourself as you usually do, your shoulders are slumped, and you’re looking down at the ground as you walk.

“Where’s Yoongi? I thought he was coming.” She asks, immediately knowing the problem.

“He had a lot going on in the studio,” you repeat his excuse, swirling the wine served in your glass.

“I must say he has exceeded all expectations. I expect his album to be a hit,” your dad says excitedly, none the wiser.

“I’m happy to hear that. He’s so worried over it and is overworking himself,” you force a smile, “Just now, Yoongi was saying he was behind on a track.”

“Behind? Yoongi is ahead of schedule. I’ve told him to take a break,” your dad scoffs, looking over the menu.

“What?” You ask, meeting his gaze. All this time, he’s been telling you he’s behind. It’s one of the reasons you haven’t confronted him. You want him to do well, after all.

“At the speed he’s going, we can release his album two months before scheduled,” your dad shrugs.

“Good,” you say dryly.

Immediately after dinner, you rush back into the studio, finding Yoongi still holed up there. You slam the door open, startling him. He looks at you up and down, seeing you all dressed up, beautiful.

“How was dinner?” He asks, turning back around to face the screen. Missing your response, he turns back around, “What’s wrong?”

“Two months ahead? What the fuck, Yoongi?” You yell at him, arms crossed over your chest.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, standing from his chair to come closer to you.

With each step he takes forward, you take one back, “Your album. My dad just told me you’re ahead of schedule.”

“Well, yeah, but there is still so much work to do,” Yoongi responds sincerely as if there’s nothing wrong with his confession.

“I’ve let you do as you pleased, thinking you were still adapting, getting used to the industry, but you’ve been holed up in here, ignoring me because you want to?” You ask him, trying to ignore the knot forming in your throat.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” he shakes his head, trying to reach out to you.

“Yoongi, when was the last time we went on a date? Hell, the last time we had breakfast together?” You ask him, knowing it’s been far too long.

Yoongi stays silent, confirming your thoughts. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed since he was hired.

“Exactly, I can’t even remember when we had a proper conversation that wasn’t about work,” you say, frowning. You tried to ignore all the red flags but no more. This isn’t good for you or him.

“Blue, you don’t understand,” he begins saying.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You yell as your fists clench at your sides, “Min Yoongi, I’ve been working here for far longer than you have, and I have never once made you a second priority. I’ve always made time for you and checked up on you. My life is not my job; it’s only part of it. I understand this is your dream, and I want it for you so badly, Yoongi. I’ve been rooting for you all this time, and I still am. But I didn’t know that in achieving your dream, you would give me up. I want you to succeed, and I want to be by your side when you do. I want to be there for you in your new life, in your ups and downs. I want to be a part of us. But if you can’t commit to me, if you don’t let me be there for you, then what are we even doing?” Your eyes are welled with tears when you finish speaking. You refuse to let them fall.

You stand there vulnerable, letting Yoongi into your thoughts, and all he says is, “This is what I’ve always wanted, Blue.”

This. Not Us. Yoongi doesn’t want you that much is clear.

You don’t have any more fight in you. You’re tired of waiting on him. If he doesn’t want you, why stay?

“If you let me walk out, I’m not coming back.”

You turn around, walking toward the door. Yoongi stays quiet through it all. He thinks this is for the best. You are right, he’s been neglecting you. It’s not fair for either of you. He hates seeing you go, he loves you with all he has, but this is his one chance. The only opportunity to make everything right.

You beg for him in your head to call out your name. All you want is for Yoongi to stop you and make you stay. You could go home together and forget all of this happened. It’s Yoongi’s choice, and he chose to see you close the door behind you.

To think tomorrow was your first anniversary.

END OF PART 1

PART 2 COMING SOON

Taglist: @its-yagirl-raelynn @severecatsheep @hyunjingin @kikiisda1 @xjiminsthighsx @seoul9711 @lovelytaes-blog @wittyreader @blackdriedroses @innebulae @sugak00kie03 @tokiodori @hemmofluke @strxwbloody @clevercoley @ysljoon @hajimaoppaa @onlythebest-106 @enchanting-coffee @mrskimjoon @rinkud @belikejk @goldietigers294 @petalsofink @bangtan4everr @fanficscuziranout

If you want to be added comment, send me a message or ask!

#min yoongi x you #min yoongi #bts #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #yoonkook #bts imagine #bts hybrid smut #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #suga x reader #forgive me for i have sinned #bts hybrid fanfic #bts smut #smut #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts oneshots #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi x reader #fanfiction #jungkook smut

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

I Believe You, But Tell Me Again

(x)

Summary: Y/N is wondering if Jensen still sees her as he used to.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Lots of fluffy smut. Sexy af Jensen. Rockstar!Jensen. Definitely a warning. Unprotected PinV sex. Oral (f receiving), Brief fingering, some slightly insecure thoughts, established relationship. Fluff.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 3,314

A/N: This fic is a request by @lacilou .

I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I can't get this out of my head. Jensen, in the photo you're using for Off and On Again. Where he's super hot, and he knows it. Kinda cocky but totally in love with the reader (established relationship - married, long-time girlfriend??) And reader doesn't understand why he's so into her, but she KNOWS it even though Jensen has to remind her with "Feel this? It's all for you, "while he's holding the reader's hand over his bulge. If you could throw in "this what you want?" while he's slowly stroking himself as he walks towards the reader, lust in his eyes.

I hope you enjoy it sweetie, and everyone else too.

The dividers below were created by @talesmaniac89

The lights were bright, slightly blinding, as Y/N sat in front of the two cameras aimed at her. There were two cameras so they could decide later on which side was her better side. Or possibly her worse side, depending on the tone of the interview. 

Y/N squinted at the primped and stylish woman sitting across from her getting her makeup touched up. She wondered, would this interview be a friendly one? An interview to say, “Look everyone! Aren’t the Ackles great?” Or would it be one of those interviews that had an edge of nasty hovering just beneath the smile of the interviewer. 

She watched this interviewer, Shauna, pull away from her makeup artist, scowling. “It’s fine, Lisa. Just leave it alone.” 

Uh oh.

The interview started off friendly enough, touching on the things most journalists talked to her about - Jensen’s incredible skyrocketing success, his status as a rockstar icon, what a talent he was. As Jensen’s biggest fan, Y/N always enjoyed those kinds of questions. She couldn’t get enough of bragging about her ridiculously talented husband. 

But then the mood of the interview shifted and Shauna started asking much more pointed questions. 

“Now, Y/N, you and Jensen have been married over a decade now, right?” Y/N nodded. “Is there a secret to your success?” Shauna was smiling, but Y/N could see that her gray eyes were calculating.

It was a question she’d been asked a lot in the last couple of years as their ten year anniversary came and went. People seemed very interested in the fact that their marriage had lasted so much longer than had been anticipated. When Jensen had started dating her, just a nobody from nowhere, everyone had predicted it wouldn’t last. 

People on social media and angry people with podcasts all had an opinion on their relationship.

-- She’s not cut out for the limelight.

-- It’s way too hard for someone like her.

-- She’s not used to the media. She’s gonna break under the pressure.

-- He’s a rockstar who could literally get any girl he wanted. So, what’s up with him picking her?

-- It won’t last. These showbiz marriages never do.

But ten years on, now people were wondering how they actually made it to a decade. “What’s the secret?” They all wanted to know.

“There’s really no secret, Shauna.” Y/N said with a smile. “When two people are madly in love with each other, when they respect each other and work together as partners, staying together becomes much easier.” 

It was a variation on the same answer she’d given dozens of times. It happened to be true, but Y/N was still tired of trying to find new ways to explain to people that they got married because they loved each other, and they stayed married because the alternative was unthinkable for either of them.

Shauna smiled a sharp smile. “And in all those years, you’ve never been worried about the rock and roll lifestyle…leading Jensen astray?”

Y/N kept smiling because she couldn’t falter and let the reporter know she’d scored a hit. They weren’t usually that pointed with the infidelity question. Usually they skirted around it, saying things like, “Does it ever get hard when he’s on the road?” or “You must miss him when he’s touring. How do you keep tabs on him?” 

Y/N’s personal favorite version of this question came from a middle-aged woman reporter with lipstick on her teeth. “Have you ever just shown up to surprise him, or tried to catch him being naughty?” It was said with a cheeky grin as though they were just besties chatting, but Y/N had wanted to snatch the woman bald.

Shauna’s version of the question was the closest anyone had ever come to asking her outright, “Do you worry about your husband cheating on you?”

Y/N kept smiling and shook her head. “No, never. If you knew Jensen, you wouldn’t wonder about it either. He’s the most loyal man I’ve ever known, and the most honorable. I know beyond a doubt that he doesn’t take our vows lightly, and that he would never, ever hurt me like that.”

Shauna seemed slightly taken aback by Y/N’s adamant, genuine answer, clearly expecting some anger or some kind of dramatic reaction from her. When she didn't get it, the reporter just smiled again.

“So sweet.” Was her response, acid dripping from her words.

***

The day of interviews had taken quite a bit out of Y/N, especially the last one, and she was tired as she wandered out to the limousine that was waiting to take her and Jensen back to their hotel, whenever he was done with his part of the press junket.

The limo driver opened the door for her and smiled. “Fatima says Mr. Ackles is almost finished and will be out in about ten minutes. Do you want to wait for him? Or should I take you and send another car for him?”

Y/N smiled back and shook her head. “No, let’s wait for him.”

“Okay, great.” The driver said as he closed the door behind her. 

In less than ten minutes, she saw Jensen push out of the double doors, and amble towards the car. He wore black jeans that clung to his thick thighs, and a gray t-shirt covered by a black, long-sleeved denim shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins and corded muscles in his forearms - muscles he’d gained by long hours spent playing the guitar.

As he got closer to the car, she watched him push a hand through his long hair, sweeping it off his forehead, and she sighed deeply. Good God, he was so stunningly sexy. 

Even when he was just walking, he moved with the same seductive grace he used like a siren song onstage. No matter how many times Y/N watched him in concert, she never got used to that kind of magnetic, cocky seductiveness that poured out of him when he was singing. He knew he drove people crazy. He knew it, and it just made him smile.

He was smiling now as he climbed into the car. “Hey beautiful.”

Y/N smiled tiredly at him, feeling her heart warm at his usual greeting. When he settled into the seat, he reached over and pulled her into his lap.

She squealed lightly as he lifted her, and then chuckled. “You know there are seatbelts we’re supposed to be wearing.”

Jensen shrugged and squeezed her tighter against him. “Nah! I gotcha.” 

Y/N laughed again. “Oh, okay then.” She said, snuggling closer to him. The interview had knocked her off kilter a bit, and it felt especially good to have Jensen’s arms wrapped around her. 

She tucked her head under his chin, and he ran his big hand up and down her arm. “Hey,” he said with concern lacing his voice, “everything okay?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, just a long day sitting in the same room, being asked basically the same questions.” She shrugged. “I just wanna get home. Or, well, hotel.”

Jensen accepted her answer, kissing her forehead and then her lips. “Me too.” 

They ordered in their dinner, neither of them keen to face more crowds and questions, and spent the evening watching some trashy reality TV before calling it a night a bit earlier than usual.

Y/N went into the bathroom to get ready. She brushed her teeth and took off her makeup, and as she stood in front of the mirror she looked at her face closely. 

There were some lines there that hadn’t been there when she first met Jensen. She knew there was a gray hair or two hiding amongst the rest that also hadn't existed back then. 

She pulled her silk nightgown tight against her body and could see where she was rounder than she had been when she was younger. Her muscle tone wasn’t as good. 

I should hit the gym more, she thought.

She pinched one of her love handles and pulled at her skin, wondering what Jensen really thought about all these changes. She knew he loved her, knew that he’d always found her attractive. But how was that holding up these days? Did he still feel the same kind of heat for her? Did he still want her as desperately as she still wanted him?

She jumped slightly as Jensen popped up in the mirror behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, and nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. He wore his pajama bottoms and nothing more. She looked at his biceps flexing around her as he squeezed her back against him, and his round, muscled shoulders, broad and strong, and she sighed. He was still so unbelievably perfect.

She lightly tapped his forearm where it rested just below her breasts. “You scared me.” She said, her voice accusatory.

He chuckled. “Sorry, I thought you heard me.” He caught her eye in the mirror. “But you seemed to be lost in thought.”

He moved his lips to her temple. “What thoughts are swirling around in that beautiful mind of yours? Hmm?” He murmured. 

She shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing.” 

Jensen’s face in the mirror wore a disbelieving look. “Don’t believe that for a second.” He pulled back slightly, and turned her in his arms so she was facing him. A small line of worry was creased between his brows.

“You’ve been quiet all evening; something is obviously on your mind.”

Y/N shrugged again and looked down at their bare feet. “Just tired.”

Jensen put his knuckle under her chin and made her look at him. “Y/N. Tell me.”

Y/N was caught completely by surprise as her eyes welled up with tears. She didn’t know where these doubts were coming from or why she was feeling this way. Maybe it was just one too many snide questions.

Jensen’s face crumpled as he saw her tears. He cupped her cheeks and brushed them away as they spilled over her lashes. “Baby.” His voice was worried and confused. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? What happened?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, nothing happened. Really. It was just this reporter.” 

Jensen waited for her to continue, but his worried expression darkened slightly in anger.

Y/N bit her lip and debated what to tell him, how to explain the feelings she barely understood herself. Finally she just went for the honesty they’d always had with each other; they’d never been afraid to ask for what they needed from one another, and what she needed was reassurance.

“Do you still want me? I mean, the same as you used to.”

Jensen seemed completely taken aback by the question. Clearly that hadn’t been where he expected this conversation to go. He shook his head.

“Why would you even ask that? Of course I do.”

Y/N frowned. “Don’t just tell me what I want to hear. Please, tell me the truth. Are there things about me you’d change if you could?”

Jensen’s expression turned thunderous and he dropped his hands from her cheeks to grip her upper arms. “Y/N.” He said firmly. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from? Of course I don’t want you to change.”

“I don’t mean my personality, or whatever.” Y/N explained wiping her tears away with both hands. “But my face or my body, the way I look. I know it isn’t the same as when we first met.”

Jensen shook his head, his voice incredulous. “Well no, you don’t look exactly the same as the day I met you over a decade ago.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “But you know, I’m pretty sure I don’t either.”

Y/N felt her skin flush. “But you’ve just gotten hotter.” She frowned. “Guys do that.” 

She opened her mouth to say something more, but Jensen slammed his mouth down on hers, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and invading her completely. She let out a little whimper as his hands let go of her arms to grab her ass and press her hard against him. He kissed her long, deep, swallowing every soft moan.

When he pulled back his voice was husky with want. “Baby, I don’t know where these questions are coming from, but I know the answers.” 

He grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it on his hard cock where it tented his pajama bottoms, obviously not restrained by underwear. She bit her lip as he closed his eyes and groaned when she wrapped her fingers around him. 

“Feel this? It’s all for you, all because of you. Fuck, Y/N do you see what you do to me? Still? Always?” He pushed aside some of the bottles and jars that littered the countertop and lifted her onto it easily. His hand slipped between her legs and he groaned at her bare, wet pussy. “Believe me when I tell you that I want you. Every day. All the time. Years don’t change that.”

He shook his head. “In fact they just make things better cause now I know what happens if I do this.” 

He dipped his head, sucking her satin clad nipple into his mouth, while his thick middle finger slid inside her body at the same time. A strangled cry left her lips and she thumped her head back against the mirror.

She felt him smile against her. “Exactly.”

He took his hand out of her to tug on her nightgown. She shifted slightly so he could pull the silky material over her head as he continued.  “And yet, your body’s always a revelation to me. It never stops fascinating me.” His eyes followed the path of his fingers as he trailed them down her arms and then over the soft swell of her breasts. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin and her nipples puckered.

He circled his forefinger around the tight little bud, before dipping his head once again to flick the tip of his tongue against it. 

Y/N moaned deeply and wrapped her fingers up in his honey brown locks. “Jensen.” She gasped as he sucked her breast into his mouth and drew on it deeply, causing her cunt to clench and quiver.

He pulled her forward, to the edge of the counter, and then dropped to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her wide open so he could reach his tongue up to tease her hole. Y/N plunged her hand back into his hair and tugged on it before pushing his head harder against her dripping pussy. 

“God, fuck Jensen, yes.” She rambled.

He hummed against her folds before nibbling at her clit, making her knees try to lock around his ears. But his superior strength kept her legs spread wide so he could feast. He breathed hot against her, alternating between flicking his tongue against her clit and sucking it between his plump, luscious lips.

It wasn’t long before Y/N was bucking against his mouth as she rode out her climax while he lapped up her juices. She panted desperately and tugged on his hair again, begging him. “Please Jensen, fuck me. I need to feel you, need you inside me so badly.”

Jensen stood and scooped her off the counter, walking back into their bedroom. He laid her out on the bed, making sure her head was propped up on the pillows, before stepping away from her. He moved far enough back so that she had an unencumbered view as he slowly lowered his pajama bottoms. 

His cock sprang free to lean, hard and dripping, against his stomach. Y/N felt her mouth go dry and a keening moan erupted from her throat as he gripped himself in his fist, pumping slowly.

He walked towards her one slow step at a time. His voice was a growl. “Is this what you want?” She nodded, biting her lips and trying desperately not to come again, just from watching him.

“Tell me you want it.” Jensen ordered.

Y/N nodded again, almost frantically. “Yes, fuck. I want it. I want your cock.” She reached for him as he stood barely a foot from the side of the bed. “I need it. I need you.”

Jensen climbed onto the bed on his knees, grabbing up her wrists with both hands and pressing them into the pillows on either side of her head. He stared into her eyes as he spoke. 

“And I need you too, Y/N. I need you desperately, obsessively. I need you every waking minute. I need your love and your kindness. I need your good soul and beautiful heart.” He entered her in one hard thrust and she cried out. “But I also need your soft body. I need to sink into you. I need to feel you move against me. I need to hear you say my name like a moan. I need to feel you clench tight around me.”

He began moving slowly, sliding in and out of her with silky, unhurried movements. “I will always love you. I will always want you. And I will never need you any less than completely.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Do you understand me?”

Y/N nodded and gasped as his cock slid over her sweet spot. “Yes. Yes.” Was all she could manage to chant. But it satisfied him and he began to move faster.

He switched positions slightly so he could lift her hips off the bed, hooking her knees over his forearms. He began to slam into her, hitting that same sweet spot over and over until Y/N was screaming out her overwhelming pleasure and falling into euphoria. 

Jensen continued to jackhammer into her, grunting harshly with each thrust. He pounded into her pussy over and over until she was once again on the precipice of bliss. As his hips faltered, he dropped one of her legs so he could slide his thumb between their bodies and swirl it against her clit. She screamed again and fell for the third time, clenching around him and pulling his climax out of him, along with her own.

The familiar aftermath of damp skin pressed together and lungs starved for oxygen, brought Y/N a kind of all encompassing satisfaction and peace. When Jensen finally rolled off of her, she rolled with him, so she could slot herself up against his side, wrapping one arm over his ribs and laying her head on his chest as he ran his fingers teasingly up and down her back making her shiver.

They were both quiet for a few minutes before Jensen broke the silence. “Y/N tell me the truth.” He said, and Y/N could hear the protectiveness and anger on her behalf permeating his tone. “Did someone say something or do something to hurt you today?”

But she just shook her head. “No, it wasn’t any different than a million other interviews really.” She shrugged. “Something about it just hit me, I guess.”

She raised up on her elbow, chin in her hand, to look at him. “But if you tell me you love me as truly, madly, deeply as you did the day we met, then I believe you.”

Jensen frowned slightly. “Are you comparing me to a Savage Garden song?”

Y/N giggled, but ignored the question, kissing him softly before laying her head back down on his chest. She smiled against his skin as she spoke. 

“I believe you, but tell me again.”

Jensen’s breath ruffled her hair as he sighed contentedly. “I will love you, and desperately want to devour you, every single day of my life - for the rest of my life.”

Y/N nodded, and her voice was full of confidence as she snuggled closer. “Thought so.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#jensen ackles #jensen rpf #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles one shot #jensen ackles fan fic #request fic