#AND ONE OF THEM IS LIKE. A COUPLE WHOS A HUMAN GUY AND A CAT PERSON

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

How to train your pet Human pt.2 (Yandere!Alien X GN!Reader)

part 1, part 3

CW: Abduction, imprisonment, yandere themes, death, pet/owner relationship, tickle torture, humiliation, sexual themes, angst

"There they are~" Kirtch bent to pick (Reader) up, lifting them easily like a child and carrying them with one hand under their butt. (Reader's) face scrunched up in embarrassment. They were wearing an ugly shirt, both baggy and synched tightly, flowy around the body but locked in place like a neck corset at the top and wrists. When Kirtch first presented the tacky gift, (Reader) had ran to hide, forcing Kirtch to wrestle the outfit onto them.

With all of the unnecessary buttons and ties, (Reader) was incapable of taking it off themselves, and was now sulking.

"I have a lot of duties today that cannot be completed in my office, so I thought you might enjoy coming with me so you don't have to be couped up alone." Kirtch gently knocked his forehead into (Reader's).

'Escape chance, escape chance, escape chance-' "Yeah, that sounds nice." (Reader) tried to contain their excitement, consciously aware of their heart beating loudly in their chest.

"Wonderful! I've packed a couple of toys to keep you occupied if you get bored, as well as snacks." He replied happily, seeming so pleased with himself as he briskly walked down the hall from his bedroom towards the main hall. The two passed by many other aliens walking up and down the corridors, none of whom seemed to be the same species as Kirtch. Everyone wore the same cloak, standing them out from the creatures in the shopping district, a uniform slightly lighter in color than Kirtch's. Most would pause while walking to rub a hand over where their noses should have been, and Kirtch would raise a hand in response.

"What are they doing?" (Reader) whispered.

"It is a sign of respect. I am their superior, so if they are not in a rush to get somewhere they are greeting me."

Fear tickled (Reader's) spine. "Are you guys in the military?"

Kirtch laughed, a high pitch clicking sound that almost sounded like a broken music box. "No. I'm just an upper level leader in our trading company."

They arrived in front of a decorated wall, and Kirtch squeezed (Reader) a little while smiling. "Now this is a very important meeting, I need you to be as quiet as possible, okay?"

(Reader) huffed. "I'm not a child."

"I know you aren't. You're a very sweet pet, who is most definitely a grown adult human."

They felt humiliated. It had been almost a month since they were bought by Kirtch, and they did everything in their power to not anger him or appear as though they needed "release". (Reader) constantly watched and waited for the perfect escape attempt, while fighting off Kirtch's affections in as non threatening a way as possible. Like they were emulating a cat. (Reader's) skin burned, but they held back their tongue.

The wall opened, revealing a board room (at least that's what (Reader) assumed it was), a bare room only decorated with a long table surrounded by stools. Kirtch sat (Reader) on the floor and pulled out a sack from the inside of his cloak. While they didn't want to immediately act the part of a good pet, (Reader) was curious as to what was in the bag. The first thing they pulled out, however, was a taxidermied cat. (Reader's) eyes widened, and they couldn't contain their anxiety, shaking as they stared into the cat's glass eyes. Was this some kind of threat?

"Do you like it? I've been meaning to buy you more human toys, so I thought you would appreciate a stuffed animal." Realizing that the 'gift' was not malicious, the nervousness immediately dissolved into mental fatigue.

"Oh. I get it. Stuffed animal. Yeah." They put the animal back in the bag, hoping Kirtch didn't think their exhausted smile was permission to buy more dead bodies.

More aliens entered the room, greeting Kirtch before taking their seats. (Reader) couldn't understand what the meeting was about, since they were all speaking in Kirtch's native tongue, but their voices and faces were tense. The meeting went on for well over an hour, but (Reader) found it surprisingly entertaining, dubbing over their conversation inside their mind like Mystery Science Theater, chuckling with how wild their hand movements were. It was very human of them.

(Reader) fucked up, accidently snorting at one of the angrier aliens. Although they didn't understand the language, one of his sentences sounded awfully like "Pineapple farts", and with how intense his face was, it made it seem like he was describing how his ass felt. Their sound was so quiet it was almost inaudible, but the alien still noticed and spun his head in (Reader's) direction so quickly his exoskeleton creaked. (Reader) bit their lip to hide a smile, turning away from the conference to pretend to munch on their fruit (?) slices.

The irate alien began ranting louder, and (Reader) caught a word they had heard from a few of the underlings they had been introduced to. Bah-blk. Human.

Shit.

They snuck a glance towards the group very slowly to view Kirtch's expression, worried they may have angered him by interrupting the meeting. And indeed, his almost perfectly flat face was pulled into a scowl, but it wasn't aimed at (Reader).

"(Reader), pet, could you come here for a moment?"

His voice was light and smooth, as it always was when speaking to (Reader), but Kirtch's face was grave as he refused to break eye contact with the alien in front of him; said alien's shell glistened like he was sweating under Kirtch's glare. (Reader), not wanting to be punished later, left their spot on the floor and shuffled over to their owner. Kirtch pulled (Reader) into his lap the second they were within his reach, still staring daggers at the poor alien across the table.

He spoke to the offender, holding (Reader) lovingly with one arm as if to make a point. The man was panicked, waving his arms and sweating profusely, sounding apologetic. It wasn't enough, whatever it was he was saying. He referenced (Reader) as Bah-blk again, and then he was dead.

Before (Reader) could understand what it was that Kirtch had pulled out of his robe, a soundless shot was fired across the table, green blood splattering across the wall as the alien's head was pierced by some kind of projectile.

Everyone turned away, unsurprised by the killing. It was a lukewarm reaction, as though this wasn't the first time they witnessed someone die at Kirtch's hand. The body fell, head slamming into the table with a wet thud.

(Reader) didn't know what he had said, but to kill him... It was jarring. The young adult hadn't payed any attention to the tears dripping down their chin until Kirtch wiped them off. The roughness of his hand startled (Reader), making them flinch away from his touch.

For the rest of the meeting (Reader) couldn't pry their eyes away from the dead body lying across from them. It was a nightmare seemingly without an end, staring at a corpse while his murderer held (Reader) tenderly, rubbing his thumb on their side absentmindedly while discussing business with colleagues like it was a regular Tuesday.

If (Reader) was more aware, they would be disgusted with themselves for not fighting Kirtch as he picked them up to go back to their room, but they just wanted to go back to the safety of their *bed*, and couldn't force their brain to focus on anything else.

The bed was more like a twin sized pillow nestled in a metal cage, but it was soft and felt secure, like when (Reader) was young and thought that hiding under their blanket would protect them from the shadow people in their closet.

"Are you alright, (Reader)?" Kirtch asked, his voice full of concern.

(Reader) curled up, pulling the blanket tight over their face.

Kirtch sighed, and crouched down by (Reader's) bed. "(Reader), please don't be upset with me. If this is about my colleague, please know that what I did was necessary."

"Murder is never necessary."

"He tried to accuse me of not being.. as invested in the job as I should be. And that the reason for my lack of dedication was you. He used very strong language." Kirtch placed a hand on (Reader's) back. "I told him not to disrespect you. Yet he continued."

(Reader) began crying, shaking under Kirtch's touch. "Are you saying that I'm the reason he's dead?"

"Oh, pet.." Kirtch sighed again, pulling (Reader) out of the fetal position and into his arms. "I've always been incredibly interested in humanity. When I was a young child, there was a 'book' in my father's study about primitive species, and that's how I learned about humans. Did you know that you and I experience life differently from one another? Our brains function differently. We have different pain receptors; our brains' physiology are almost nothing alike; the diseases humans are capable of developing simply for existing are concepts we've never had to worry about. Even how we perceive the color spectrum, humans are so unlike any other sentient species I have met."

"I was so fascinated by Earth, especially by humans. We are not allowed to visit Earth as it is a restricted area, so much of what we know is recorded knowledge from captured defectors. My chances of meeting a human were next to none. Then, we had to dock in Dol-Hu, a shady planet only inhabited by criminals and those in hiding. And wandering through the market, I saw you."

"The one thing I've always wanted, for the past seventy years, I recognized you as a human immediately, even though you were so much cuter than I could have expected. You're so soft, and fragile, in comparison to my armoured flesh. You were bent over, but I knew from descriptions I had memorized what you were. As one who has always loved Earth, I am fluent in every Earth language we know of, so I was excited to communicate with you. I was so eager to have a piece of humanity. And now here you are."

(Reader) rolled over, their heart clenching painfully as they looked up into Kirtch's sadly smiling face. "I wonder what I look like through your eyes."

Their heart began doing somersaults in their throat as the tears continued flowing.

"You may have been the only human I've ever known, but I can say with confidence that you must have been the best humanity had to offer. I only want to give you the best life possible."

(Reader) wrapped their arms around Kirtch's midsection, sobbing loudly. His body didn't bend or squish under the full strength of (Reader's) embrace. And that was how (Reader) fell asleep, crying themselves into a nap.

When they awoke, they were alone, lying in the bed with the cat tucked into their arms. (Reader) left the room to find Kirtch at his desk, working on paperwork. The giant heard (Reader) behind him, and turned his attention on them, smiling as he held out his arms in an offer to pick them up. And much to his surprise, (Reader) willingly entered into his embrace, and allowed him to set them on his lap without pouting or making a fuss.

"I have a few more documents to look over, then I can play with you, okay?"

"Okay." Their voice was quiet and monotone, (Reader's) mind still fuzzy from crying so much before falling asleep.

"Are you still upset? Is there anything I can do to make you happy?"Kirtch laid down his work, trapping (Reader) in his arms.

"No.. you can continue working."

"You're more important than my work. I consider your unhappiness to be a crises."

Worry began to prick at (Reader's) skin. "I'm really fine, we don't need to play!"

"Need?"

Memories of the day (Reader) was bought flashed through their mind, causing them to go red and hot as they started to squirm in Kirtch's embrace. "I-I- didn't mean it like that!"

One hand left (Reader's) body to grab something from Kirtch's desk. "Don't fret, I recently purchased a new toy I thought would bring you joy."

(Reader's) eyes bulged out as they froze in anticipation, their heart hammering in their chest. But what Kirtch retrieved did not appear safe to go near any genitalia, a strange contraption formed of multiple thin prongs on a handle. Embarrassed that they had assumed something sexual was about to happen, (Reader) bit the inside of their cheek, puzzling over the strange discomfort they were feeling. "What's that?"

Kirtch raised (Reader's) shirt, and dragged the device across their skin, causing an involuntary shudder. It tickled.

"Ah! No!" (Reader) accidentally laughed, trying to push Kirtch away. He trailed the toy from their pelvic area visible above their pants to their left armpit. The light tingling sensation forcibly clenched their stomach muscles as they let loose a howl of laughter.

They couldn't breathe correctly, laughing so hard that their spasming abdominals made it feel like they were choking. But they couldn't stop, begging Kirtch to "knock it off" while their cheeks hurt from the smile they had. That damn toy tickled every inch of their body, not even noticing when Kirtch removed their pants. They kicked futilely, unable to break free from the assault. Their sensitive skin was almost becoming painful to the touch, but the laughter only got louder.

"pleASE! KIRTCH, stop!!" (Reader) heaved. Their whole body felt tender, highly reactive to each touch. Which made them aware of the fact that the only thing separating them from Kirtch's lap was a thin pair of underpants. With how they had been writhing on his lap, they were relieved that Kirtch didn't seem to have a dick that could become aroused from such movements.

(Reader's) smile fell. I have no idea how Kirtch's species reproduces. Maybe he can get erections, but he won't get one for me because he sees me as a pet. An animal. Their heart turned to concrete as it dropped out of its cage.

Kirtch halted his attack when he saw (Reader) go limp. "Are you tuckered out, pet?"

(Reader) tried to slide off his lap like jelly. "I'm done playing. I want to go back to bed."

"Alright, my stubborn little grump, what is it now? You were all smiles but a second ago, so what is it plaguing your mind?"

They tried to scrunch up their nose to prevent more tears from sheepishly forming. "I'm not a pet. I'm a human. I want to be treated like an equal!"

Kirtch's smile was replaced by a hurt scowl. "Is it so unpleasant being my pet?"

"No!" (Reader) interjected, not understanding why it pained them so much to see Kirtch upset, "I just want to, I just.. I don't know. This is confusing, and it feels.. weird. You're really nice to me, and sometimes it feels like... but then other times you treat me like I'm a cat. This isn't what I want. Either be a bastard and treat me like an animal or treat me like-" Their words caught in their throat. Treat me like what?!

A fearful kiss was placed on their forehead, ghostly with hardly any pressure. Kirtch's hands trembled on (Reader's) sides. "All I wish is to adore you for the rest of your life."

He pulled (Reader) into his chest, petting their back in a comforting manner. "I'll give you anything you ask for, I'll do anything you ask of me. Just to keep you happy, with me. You are all that I've ever wanted. All I wish is to care for you, and spend all my attention on you. If there is anything you want, please ask me. I need you to love me."

(Reader) felt so confused. Like a squid was destroying their gut, everything was uncomfortable and scary. They knew that Kirtch viewed them as a pet, he loved them how (Reader) loved their family dog as a child. But when they heard him begging for their love, it made them wish for an odd moment that he wasn't an alien. That (Reader) was sitting on their boyfriend's lap right now, a strange human man who sometimes infantalized them but only out of affection. Why couldn't this be simple? Why did (Reader) want him to kiss them right at that moment?

"I want to go home. I want to meet someone kind and fall in love." (Reader's) words stabbed Kirtch in places he never knew could hurt.

"I can't do that, (Reader)..." Kirtch's embrace constricted almost painfully tight. "You're all I've ever wanted. You can't ask me to let you go. I'll take such good care of you, you'll see. I have the rest of your life to make you fall in love with me."

They sat there, holding one another in agonizing silence, both loving each other in a way that they couldn't explain. The way their brains functioned didn't just mean that Kirtch could see a wider range of colors than (Reader), but the way their species experienced love was too vastly different for the other to comprehend. Despite Kirtch wanting to own (Reader), that was the greatest love he had ever felt, since his species did not pair bond and only mated when two beings agreed amicably that they wished to procreate. He knew that humans felt many forms of love, love for a mate, love for their offspring, love for a friend.. but to something that never felt any of those forms of love, Kirtch couldn't understand the difference between them.

"I love you, my little pet. And I will always love you."

[urwifebabes]

Hi, this is my first time requesting, and I had an idea. Could you do a reader x dogday x catnap where the reader used to live with catnap and dogday when they were human, but when they mysteriously disappeared, they escaped from play co but came back years later to find out what happened to them. Please and thank you also sorry if this is a lot.

I hope this satisfies you, love.

“You’re back..?”

Relationship(s): catnap x player!reader x Dogday 🔞

Warning(s): angst, fluff, smut (in that order.)

your fingers grazed the cement, it had dried blood stains on it , here and there. you see the toys took in consideration how you taught them how to clean up thoroughly. all the blood from “The Hour Of Joy” was almost all cleaned up. it was a miracle you decided to escape before that day but you doubt that Catnap and Dogday would have let you die.

you finally came to the playcare, where you had been assigned to work your first day. you smiled softly, remembering the events of that day. you had been assigned to be either catnaps helper or Dogdays. but you being you, you asked for them both and the higher ups didn’t see why not? You’d help them with the kids, you’d help them with cooking, you’d help bathe them, and anything else they wanted you to do. Dogday warmed up to you from the moment you arrived. it took catnap atleast 9 months to get used to you and even begin to talk to you. when he’d be taped by the higher ups, you usually had to be in the room for him to even say anything else besides about “his savior, the prototype.” experiment 1006, you believe.

you had made it to this jail like place. it looked disgusting. the jail cells bars were rusty and had dried blood. Some cell doors on the ground. you came across one cell and your heart stopped. Dogday. Dogday was.. alive? and where was his legs? your body reacted before you could think and you unlocked him from his shackles. you hurriedly carried him away while the critters were just now noticing he was gone when one came for a quick “snack”. you made your way through the tunnels and made your way to the old operation room. Dogday had been out cold as you laid him down on the desk and began to work.

Dogday opened his eyes, finding his spare legs attached to his body. he looked around, his head still abit woozy. he sat up and sighed, happily. his eyes locked on you, taking off your bloodied gloves. if he wasn’t so damn happy right now, he’d cry. he got up and hugged you, wrapping his hands around your waist, his tail wagging. “Angel!”

Dogday had slowly but surely cried into your chest as you gently pet him. he hadn’t seen you since a couple days before “The Hour Of Joy.” He thought you had.. no he wouldn’t think it again. he looked up at you with tears and his nose running. he sniffed and sat up “you’re back?.. this isn’t a bad dream, is it?” You shook your head as Dogday smiled at you. he kissed you sweetly before pulling you into a monster sized hug. “I missed you, Angel.”

you two had begun to walk around the complex. you had a moment of weakness and whispered to Dogday, “where’s catnap? is he safe?” Dogday only looked at you before he took a hardened breath. “that.. thing is not catnap.” You didn’t quite understand but you figured it was a hard subject and didn’t ask anymore. you wish you did though, when you saw him.

“D—Dogday, who is that?” you asked as you had begun to back away. Dogday reacted before he said anything and he grabbed you, running as fast as he could with his new found legs. He had you over his shoulder as you watched catnap chase after you two. he looked sick, evil, and .. shocked? you guys had ended up in a dead end and he had you both cornered.

Catnap had circled around you both for about 8 minutes, you’d say before he came closer to you. Dogday had protectively pulled you behind him. Catnap looks at him and with one quick swipe , he threw Dogday into the wall. leaving you open prey. you waited for impact, only to find the cat staring at you. you could swear his eyes started to soften and his eyes began to drip tears. you knew he missed you , you left and escapes without the two knowing and then “The Hour Of Joy” happened. you came closer, cautiously. you put your hands on his face and gently rubbed back and forth (he was leaning down). he let out soft purrs, seemingly relaxing for the first time since that day.

Catnap had gone back to his “bigger body” form much like Dogday. He had apologized to Dogday as you had forced him to. Dogday said it would take time but they would get there, eventually. you all sat and conversated, mainly you telling about your life. before long, you were against the wall. Catnap kissing your lips, his tongue slimy and down your throat as Dogday finger fucked you open. he knew they were both too big for you, but you wanted to try so.. no harm there, right?

Dogday held your legs open as catnap thrusted into your tight heat brutally. feeling how your hot velvety walls clinged at his lengthy cock when he tried to pull out. “good fuckin’ girl.. so wet f’me.” Catnaps words slurred as he pushed abit more inside. he looked down at you, seeing your face contorted in both pleasure and some pain. he waited for a moment more before he picked up his brutal assault on your pretty pussy. Dogday whispered sweet words to you as he brushed the tears off your face. soon enough, catnap came inside you, thrusting one more time to push his cum deeper. you let out a pleasured whimper as your head fell back. Dogday smiles as he kisses your lips, waiting for catnap to pull out completely.

Dogday kissed the inner parts of your thighs. he then reached your heat and took in the sight. your clit swollen, pussy convulsing around nothing, and the pink look it had. Dogday chuckled as he placed butterfly kisses to your clit. catnap held you down as Dogday teased you. he eventually wrapped his own hands around your thighs. his tongue came out hot, heavy, and moist. you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your throat. he fucked his tongue into you, ruthlessly. he ate you liked he’d been starved for years and he couldn’t live without the taste. he was humping his cock against the dead plush pathetically, as you could see the pre-cum gushing out his discolored tip. catnap watched the scene unfold, stroking his own cock as he watched.

soon enough, Dogday was fucking into you like a mad dog. his balls heavy with unshed cum that he just wanted to dump into you. make sure you have his pups, not any kittens. Dogday growled as he bit the side of your neck, not enough to hurt, but to leave a mark as he thrusted a few more times pumping his love into you. catnap had been stroking himself to the pace Dogday had set and he had came on your face and hair as soon as Dogday did. you? well, you had came a total of 4 times and this was just their seconds. you sighed as you watched them switch positions again, catnap opening your leg to show your pretty glistening hole.

A/N: hi! Sorry this took so long. I hope this was good! if you wanna be tagged when I post, just let me know! also for the others that requested, I promise I’m working on it.

TAGS: @2faced-fairy

[ane-doodles]

My COTL References

(you can use them as inspo if you want)

A little more:

Wow, I didn't think this would take so long, but I think it was worth it in the end.

I have had to look for all kinds of references to be able to draw the bishops in a satisfactory way (references from the game itself, from animals, body types, eyes, and even how to draw cat paws). I think I have done them justice.

Although I don't plan to draw a comic or write a fic, I did want to define my own reference when drawing them. That way my little doodles would have some coherence.

A couple of details from the designer (just me commenting):

• I had to look for references of many body types and choose the one I thought was most suitable for each character. It was a long road!! The most difficult to draw was Narinder.

• Heket's outfit is inspired by a dress I recently saw in a store, it looked like a tunic so I decided to use it as a model. I added the veil because I wanted to cover her head (it's difficult to draw), plus I think it gives her a distinctive touch and personality. She accidentally ended up looking like a very flirtatious nun.

• Kallamar's design was particularly difficult because in the game itself he doesn't have a torso! but for reasons of ease and patience here he is going to have one. It's funny that he's super tall, but he keeps hunching over trying to hear what others are saying (you know, he doesn't listen very well for obvious reasons).

• Leshy was my favorite design! He has all the characteristics that I usually give to a protagonist!! He ended up looking like a young boy who surely likes soccer. I drew him thinking that he would surely like to walk around, so he should be comfortable... but he will surely end up crashing on more than one occasion. The green looks so fluffy!!! ah! but I also gave him a sting (I thought it would be fun)

• Shamura was interesting. I didn't want to give it too many legs, but I also didn't want it to look strange. In the end I ended up taking inspiration from different insect characters I know (like the red guy from Adventure Time). His clothes are all torn, I think he would have a hard time adjusting to them and would end up destroying them very often.

• Although I have drawn Narinder before it is not easy without him looking like an anime boy with a cat head! so it took quite a while to try to get out of there, that's why his proportions look more animalistic now!! I like to think that his body was vaguely more human when he was a god, but that when he transforms into a mortal he becomes more animal-like. It was difficult to design his clothes, but I like the change of coat he has...I hope I don't change it again soon or I'll have to make him a wardrobe.

• I have no special notes about the lamb, except that I forgot to put the leg warmers!! I realized it too late, but let's imagine they are there. I liked designing the second fleece, obviously based on Narinder's.

• As you can see, each of the coats are made from the remains of the tunics that the bishops previously wore. I want to imagine that after they were defeated, the lamb recovered them and turned them into new garments so that they would feel more comfortable in the cult (but also so that they would be distinguished from the common people).

• I have planned jobs and positions that each one would occupy in the cult, but I don't know how close they are to canon since I haven't taken the time to research. We'll see!!

And that's it, if you made it this far, have a candy 🍬 , thanks for reading my ramblings.

[flamingpudding]

Ghost Hunting Vigilantes

Ouija Board Prompt Idea Continuation...? Maybe!

Follow up part directly to this: Ghost Hunting Vigilantes #2

A/N: You guys are awesome. Comments and Reblogs gave me so much inspiration I ended typing this down during Lunch Break. Also I just might have wanted to image Tim going all out on the ghost investigation, I blame watching to many TFIL Overnight videos...

You would think that as Ghost King Danny would be able to learn from his mistakes, and he really could learn from his mistakes but for some reasons, this was something he was not learning from as he floated above the vigilantes curious. He wasn't going to mess with them again, Lady Gotham had beat that into his skull at least. Not like he did the first time but apparently the old city spirit was rather protective of her 'knights'.

Still their first meeting had gotten the Ghost King curious. It wasn't just about the matter with the Red Hood Guy, something he had promised Lady Gothom to take care of as compensation once he figured out what was up with him. But these guys seemed to have gotten an interest in ghost communications now.

So a couple weeks later he was floating invisible once again above them watching the RR Teen - by now he had learned that RR stood for Red Robin and he had snickered at the realization that his hero name was also the name of a Dinner - was laying out cat balls all around the room before setting up some other devices.

The Kid, Robin, was sitting cross legged and arms crossed on the ground and looked very grumpy. Danny could hear the kid mutter something about Pit Demons and that they should get rid of them instead of trying to communicate. The kid had yelled that before and Lady Gotham had never explained that in her lectures about how he should treat her 'knights'. What were Pit Demons? Was that a ghost variant his kingly tutors had failed to tell him about? If they were his subjects and tormenting humans he would need to deal with them, before the GIW became aware of them.

The one in blue, Nightwing if he remembered correctly, was laying out the Ouija Board again at the same place it lay last time. Danny noticed that the guy was looking at the board with curious confusion and for a moment the Ghost King wondered if he had left some traces on the board when his own ectoplasm soaked it.

"Think that ghost will appear again?" The girl in purple was also there again and next to her was another girl dressed in darker colors. Spoiler and Orphan according to Tucker and the city spirit.

"It's a Pit Demon. Stop calling it a ghost." Robin cut it glaring heated at them all. Danny muffled a snicker. The poor kid was definitely not very good at handling the ghostly things but by saying the Ghost King was Pit Demon the kid appeared to be braver about the whole situation these vigilantes were 'investigating' and setting themselves up for.

"I am more worried that Replacement got scammed buying all these things." Red Hood huffed as he was turning around and looking at a controller-like thing in his hands. Danny floated closer looking over the tall guy's shoulder. The thing had five LEDs in different colors and EMF Meter was written on it. Huh, was that thing like the Fenton-Finder? Well his parents had to get the idea for their inventions from somewhere.

A high pitched beep resounded in the room and all eyes turned to Red Robin who was finishing up setting a small box with an antenna. Danny recognised this one from online ghost hunting videos Sam has made him watch as a joke, a REM Pod. Oh so all the stuff they laid around the room including the cat balls were options for him to use? That was pretty nice of them considering the first time they were just playing around with a Ouija Board.

"We are all set up and good to start." Red Robin said as he stood up facing the rest of the vigilantes proudly and Danny arched an eyebrow. "We can now investigate if this 'ghost' is a Pit Demon or has anything to do with the Lazarus Pits or Water and what they want here in Gotham! I missed out on getting a sample last time but hopefully they will be willing to give me one this time."

The Lazarus' what now? Danny blinked at the teen stunned. He had only played a joke on them and Lady Gotham had already sorta punished him for it. If getting hit by a ghost club and lectured on knightly etiquette counted as punishment, which in his opinion did. Why were they making such a big deal out of this anyway?

"Don't we need to… like open a veil and introduce ourselves?"

"No."

"Oh come on Baby Bird. We have to be polite."

"Says the fucker who secretly attempted to use the Ouija Board behind our backs." Red Hood grumbled turning on the controller in his hand and nearly dropped it as the LEDs all started to glow and it let out a long drawn out beep. Danny blinked at it, he was still floating around the tall guy's shoulders.

"Fuck! The hell is with that thing?"

"Oh! Oh! The ghost is already here!"

"It is a Pit Demon."

All the vigilantes suddenly looked a lot more on alert, Danny held back a chuckle as he floated away from Red Hood and over to Nightwing. The LEDs went down to two and Danny suppressed a hum in curriousity. Did Red Hood have a signature that thing was picking up on? Was the guy a halfa in the making? He didn't appear to have any of the signs Vlad had told him about once.

"Hey so are you the one we talked to last time?"

Seeing the board as the closest thing to communicate by him, he reached out and moved that wooden piece to YES. The vigilantes looked among themselves and Danny floated over to the kid that started nervously playing with a cat ball that had been placed near him, wondering if he could send out like a calming aura for the kid.

Lady Gotham hadn't needed to hit him that hard, seeing the kid now made the Ghost King feel guilty for scaring the poor boy the way he did. Even if he didn't know what all that Lazarus Stuff was about yet. He mentally noted that down, maybe Clockwork, Pandora or one of the annoying Observants had an idea.

"So are you a Pi-"

"Are you okay?" Nightwing cut in, interrupting the question Red Robin was going to ask and Danny blinked. Huh that was new. It's been a while since anyone aside from his sister and best friends asked him that.

He floated towards the RR teen and he lightly touched the REM Pod's antenna, it let out a different pitched beep than it had before causing the teen that stood by it to jump up and turn around staring at it with wide eyes. "I didn't touch it!"

Spoiler rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't, Mr. Ghost did."

"The ghost could be a girl for all we know."

"It's 16."

"The voice we heard last time sounded like a male teen though."

"It is a Pit Demon, it most likely lied to us."

Rude, Danny didn't lie. He picked up one of the cat balls, it started instantly lighting up because of the movement, and lightly threw it at the kid that caught the ball on reflex. Wide eyed they all stared at the still blinking ball. "Did…. did the ghost just fucking throw that at Demon Brat?"

"I only ever saw in videos how ghosts lightly touch it to make it blink. I have never seen a ghost throw it like that."

Danny snickered into his hand to muffle it. Robin suddenly dropped the ball like it had burned his hand glaring at nothing as his eyes wandered over the room. "Show yourself Pit Demon!"

He floated over to Nightwing and the Ouija Board again, passing Red Hood who was still holding the EMF Meter that hit all five LEDs for a moment and beeped when he passed by. Making the tall guy jolt and stare down at it. He swiftly moved the wooden piece to NO.

After last time and the beating Lady Gotham gave him with her ghost club, he was not going to show himself. Not even with a little ectoplasm-avatar blob form. Okay maybe he will later on, when he was sure they wouldn't suddenly start attacking it again. He didn't see any of his parents' weapons with them but he wasn't going to risk it. Considering what Red Hood had said earlier, Red Robin might have bought some more stuff he had not shown or laid out yet.

"I demand that you show yourself, Demon!" The kid was pulling out his katana looking ready for a fight.

Now that was rude. Danny was a half ghost. Not a Demon. They were an entirely different species. Sure they were sort of a part of the Infinite Realms but like Ghost are formed from ambient ectoplasm, strong wills and emotions. Demons were like a living breathing species that needed to eat actual food like humans and not entirely made of ectoplasm.

Danny didn't move a single finger to respond to Robin's demand, silently scoffing.

"They are not ghosting us now are they?" Nightwing carefully asked after the silence had dragged on. Red Robin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear if you made them leave, I will not include you the next time we investigate this 'Pit Demon' as you call them."

"Come on guys! We can't give up now. Maybe we can call them back?" Spoiler added, Orphan next to her nodded enthusiastically.

"This thing is still glowing on two LEDs." Red Hood added holding up the EMF Meter for the rest of them to see.

"So it's still around?"

"Probably."

There was more silence and an idea sparked in Danny's head as he suppressed a snicker and carefully floated over to the REM Pod making sure to avoid Red Hood and not alerting the thing in his hand. He crouched by the box, studying it for a little bit and making sure not to touch it to accidentally set it off too soon.

"It's been too quiet. Are you sure it didn't leave?"

"Still on two LEDs."

"This demon is a coward."

"You're not making it better Baby Bird."

"We should have gotten Signal to come too. He probably could have told us for sure if they are still around or not."

"Maybe we should pack up and try another time again?"

"But we didn't even get the ghost's name!"

Taking this as his que to give a sign of 'life' from him again, Danny touched the REM Pods antenna with a certain rhyme in mind. He wasn't hitting the notes correctly but the pitches were different enough from each other that these vigilantes would recognise what he was doing.

They jumped at first at the sudden noise until slowly realization dawned for some of them. The girls started to laugh after a moment and Red Hood also chuckled with the realization. Nightwing didn't look exactly ecstatic but he did seem ready to burst out laughing. Robin looked rather confused and annoyed and Danny wondered if the kid had any meme knowledge while Red Robin groaned but then appeared to smile in good humor.

Once Danny stopped playing with the REM Pod, Red Robin walked over to a table and put the case under it on top. He opened it and placed a raidio looking like thing on the table as well as a camera with a screen on it.

"Now, Mr. Ghost. I know you have a voice we heard before but you seem to appear to prefer not talking to us directly and whatever made you talk last time doesn't seem to be around tonight. So I have a spirit box and a SLS Camera additionally prepared here." Red Robin switched on the 'radio' and it started making white noises filtering through radio channels, he turned back towards the room holding the camera up with the screen facing the teen. The other vigilantes also appeared stunned by how prepared Red Robin was. Danny could only blinked as he realized that Red Robin was pointing it directly at him and for a second he wondered if that thing was actually picking up his movements or if it only picked up static or blurred images like the cameras back at home that were not old film.

"Let's have a talk this way, shall we?"

-Seriously?- Danny muttered making sure he was using ghost speech so they wouldn't hear him only to slap his hands in realization over his mouth as the Spirit box statically repeated his words understandable for them.

Wide eyed he stared at Red Robin who grinned triumphantly at him, he was still invisible at least... right?

[kanmom51]

https://twitter.com/parkjmwins/status/1782358915939774874

Idk whether you will even answer this ask or will block me but this is exactly why JK had similar concept pics like Jimin. Jikookers made it to be romantic while Fandom made it to a joke 'JK always copy Jimin' (ofcourse). I've seen you making multiple posts about Jikook concept pics being match is a proof of them being a couple when in reality Hybe don't even take permission of original artist before using their ideas for another. One hybe label just got into trouble for copying newjeans and according to CEO min heejin it was BANG SHIHYUK who wanted to copy newjeans to create a second version of them through illit. And guess what he made sure illit gets 10x more success than newjeans, a 2 day song was already charting in different charts including hot 100. The same bang shihyuk who ignored every bit of Jimin's success but shamelessly copied his ideas and visions of concept pics for another favorite member. He shamelessly asks staffs to copy original ideas of artists who created them and use them for a cheap version of the said artist, Newjeans and Jimin are just examples.

Was it JK's fault ? Not necessarily but unlike rookie Illit he had power and capability to make his own decisions and use his own visions instead of doing what he was asked to do by the staff (his words) but he didn't and sat comfortably while using another person's hardwork. If you still think those similarities were because they were couple then idk what to say because in that logic Newjeans girls and Illit girls are dating.

Talk about TikTok generation ask.

Linking me to a tweet that has zero actual information and/or proper discussion, just stating a fact that isn't necessarily even a fact. Ignoring the full picture (like y'all do when it comes to Jikook as well, btw).

And I also find it so so funny how you are basically hanging your all on something that a very problematic figure within the Kpop industry is claiming, all to try and deflect from despicable behaviour she's being accused of, including using and revealing private info of Hybe idols obtained in illegal and despicable manors, perhaps including having to do with certain private info leaking of certain BTS members (including the one person that you so vehemently claim to love and stand in defense of).

You think that by sending me this link you are proving something?

You say that you read through my posts. Well, obviously you've missed those many posts I've written explaining how JM and JK being a couple can be deducted not from one action or one behaviour alone, but the combination of many many actions or behaviours. A puzzle built of not 10 or 50 or 100 pieces, but one built of so many many more.

I find it funny how with everything that has been going on with JM and JK you guys are still at this.

We're back to JK copying JM.

Like seriously.

Like even if the whole NJ Illit thing was true there was some kind of a comparison to be made with these two men.

Like JK, who's album concept is 180 degrees different than JM's doesn't have stylists at his beck and call to create a concept that isn't a full on copy of JM's. Right down to the studs and colours and minutiae details of some of the outfits.

Like if he did copy JM, that same scorned poor JM (that's how you guys love to portray him, as a damsel in distress awaiting you to swoop in and save him) CHOSE to fly to NY to be with JK and spend Silver day there with him, travel with him multiple times and spend his entire 18 months in the army with that awful copy cat JK.

Your ask tells me that you have zero understanding in human interactions and relationships. JM saying time and time again, JOKING time and time again, about JK copying him, it's a tease but also something that he LOVES. How he inspires JK, how JK perceives him as his catalyst.

But this here, the photo concepts and the whole of JK's wardrobe while promoting, claiming it's all about copying JM is just bull crap. This was planned. And it was planned by the two of them. It's not a coincidence that JM happens to wear the bottom part of a two piece outfit months before JK wears the top part of the same exact outfit.

And if we are talking about copying, is it the concept he's copying or is he so far gone that he's literally copying down to the smallest of details?

Like seriously. You think that's about copying JM?

Or because it worked for JM so he thinks it will work for him? Literally same hairstyle rocking as JM had in Face? Cause why not use a concept that works? Seriously? JK's all "I should do this cause it worked for JM so it will work for me"?

Was that what he was thinking when he rocked a highlight of JM's hair colour over the years? That the colour works for JM so I should have a strand of that colour in my hair as well, copying his success? Is that the theory you're working with?

Or when JK wore the same jacket as JM on Valentines day, you know, in a clip that JM himself records and uploads, that JK also copying JM?

Babe, this isn't just about the concept pics either. And it's not just about Face and Seven or Golden. Wearing the actual same black leather or leather-like pants just because he couldn't find any other pants? That level of copying? Or perhaps it wasn't about copying and more about mirroring.

About "You are me I am you", which they have been screaming at the top of their lungs for years now!!!

It amazes me how you have zero issue in taking an over decade long complex super close relationship (no matter how you perceive it they are super close) and simplifying it into "JK copied JM's concept because JM's concept worked for him", or to even compare whatever went on with JK and JM and those similarities to a claim made (by a disgruntled and caught red handed employee of Hybe) about one new GG copying concepts and whatever from a GG that's been around for 2 years now. No connection between them. No long term relationships between the groups. One group supposedly copying from another. Yeah, definitely the comparison needed to be made between that and Jikook's behaviours or decision making.

How infantile of you.

Oh and that paragraph of yours at the end. Laughable really.

Like I already said, go compare 2 GGs in two different companies to 2 men that have been close for over 10 years now. And let's also disregard the long history of those two doing the similar and same outfit (during official shoots, performances etc, or during their free time) thing and look at this one single concept.

Probably styled (funny how the styling seems to be similar for years now on many occasions, and just with the two of them)

Not styled.

These are just examples of MANY MORE instances.

Oh, and I suggest you go read this post too. Not mine, but recently written and oh so relevant to the conversation.

I can't help but wonder how different your pov would have been if one of those two young men was a female. Just thought I would throw that in here too.

But I gotta give you an A for persistence. You guys, you never give up, do you? No matter what JK and JM will throw at you, you will find a way to twist it around to fit your narratives. I guess you also think that JM was forced into enlistment with JK, ah? And their trips together and the content that will drop, also forced on him? I guess him saying otherwise isn't enough to convince you guys either, right? I love the way how you guys are so intrenched in your belief of victimhood that you don't even listen to what JM himself tells you. You love him so much that basically call him a liar. Good for yous I guess.

So, to clarify my answer to you, just in case it wasn't as clear as day already...

You do you, cause nothing I tell you, or show you, or you know what? Nothing that even JM himself will tell you or show you will satisfy you. Because you are living in a self built fantasy of what and who JM is and what and who those that surround him are, all to fit that narrative of yours in which he needs you guys as his saviours and knights in shining armour to swoop in and save him from the big bad JK.

One more thing.

JM's Face was a masterpiece.

We all agree on that. JK included.

He adores JM, he's his no. 1 fan and he's been showing us this throughout 2023.

JK is not a person that would callously copy a concept used by a bandmate just because it succeeded for his bandmate and might work for him too.

Let alone from JM.

His person.

Not even if, as you put it, he was told to do so by the powers at be (which yeah, he'd tell to go shove it up their asses if they ever did 'tell' him to do that btw, and they wouldn't do it anyway seeing that they know that would be his exact reaction).

So, no.

That is my answer to you.

Just a whole big fat NOPE.

No to copying. And surprisingly no to blocking you.

Yet.

[wolvesofinnistrad]

Now Expanded on AO3 here

The bed is hard and cold, not anything he isn't used to, but uncomfortable all the same. Especially with the way his body aches right now.

He wasn't even supposed to be on the ground, running into burning buildings wasn't really his main job description anymore. It was just...

The woman was screaming for her cat. And Tommy loves cats, he has his own, Missy. She's probably wondering where daddy is right now.

Who is he kidding, she probably didn't even notice he left for work.

No one is probably noticing he's missing. He likes the people at harbor, his coworkers, but they aren't family like the 118, Evan has told him how half the station will be sitting bedside vigil when any of them get injured. It must be nice to have that. After his childhood, shipped from one foster home to another, kicked out at 18, a family like that is something he's always wanted; fuck he acted like an absolute asshole just to try to get the old 118 to like him.

He's just mulling over whether calling Eddie and asking him to pick him up whenever they discharge him is too much when he hears the squeak of sneakers on the hospital floor and glances towards the door.

In stumbles Evan, looking scared and adorable and making Tommy's heart beat so fast the monitor actually beeps a few times in warning.

"Tommy, hey, are you okay?" He says, scrambling towards him, dragging a chair over with a loud scrape that has Tommy wincing at the sound.

For a moment all he can do is stare over at this human ball of sunshine, something in his chest unknotting. Fuck he really didn't think anyone would come, how did he...

"I, I'm okay," he says, trying to put on a brave face for Evan. He's older, more experienced, he should try to be calm and not get emotional.

"You look like shit," Evan says in that earnest way he has, sitting there and taking Tommy's hand in his own. His thumb brushes over Tommy's bruised knuckles, his concerned expression staring straight into Tommy's soul.

"Oh..." he says as he feels something crack open in him. Because Evan is here, he's holding his hand, he's worried for him he... He wants to take care of him, its written all over that adorable face. And well, that's, its not really something Tommy ever has anymore. "I'll be okay," he amends, and his hand squeezes Evan's even if it hurts a little. "How did you even?"

"The hospital called me. Apparently I'm your emergency contact?" Evan asks, and there's confusion there, but also something that looks like that same giddy contentment that Evan gets whenever Tommy does something to make him happy.

Fuck. He forgot he'd done that. That looked crazy and desperate, they'd only been dating a couple months.

"Uh, yeah it was either you or Chimney," he said, and fuck if that didn't sound pathetic. It wasn't like he didn't have friends. He had a lot actually, but none that he trusted implicitly like that. To see him weak and vulnerable. Chimney had saved his life though, and Evan well...

Evan leans in and kisses him. "Well I'm glad you did because I might not have known otherwise. Chim is at work right now so."

They sit for a while, Him recounting how he saved the cat but got blasted out a first floor window by the explosion. There wasn't any serious damage but he hurt like shit and had a lot of bruises and scrapes.

"Would you want to, y'know, come home with me and I can take care of you? Or I can stay at your place," Evan asks and fuck, fuck he is Not going to cry, he is not that kind of guy. But then, before he can answer.

Eddie rounds the corner, followed closely by Chim and Hen. Eddie's in plain clothes but Hen and Chim look like they came directly from the station.

"Tommy, shit, you okay?" Eddie asks, and Hen and Chim are looking at his chart by the bed and this is. Its too much. Its exactly what he wanted but wasn't at all expecting.

"I'm," he starts, looking at Evan for a moment before deciding, "I feel about as bad as I look, yeah." Evan squeezes his hand and his heart starts racing again and the monitor is beeping a little and he feels a tear going down his cheek. Evan wipes the tear away and then they're all talking. About what happened as Evan explains it for him, about a call where Hen saved a dog a few months back, about whatever. And fuck if Tommy doesn't feel safe, feel like he belongs.

Later that night, laying in his own bed, Evan having dragged him onto his broad chest in the same way Tommy usually does to him, he starts to think he could get used to this. He really hopes he can keep Evan, keep all of this for himself. Missy curls at the foot of the bed and purrs and he thinks, yeah, I feel like purring in contentment too.

[moni-logues]

What the cat dragged in

Pairing: Lee Know x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: smut, angst, strangers-to-lovers (kinda); 5+1

Summary: You followed Minho home because you had nowhere else to go. Then you kept following... all the way into his heart, but not his bed.

aka five times you and Minho don't fuck and one time you do.

Content: reader is 16yo in the first section (nothing sexual or romantic happens but there are suggestions of it), couple of references to human/sex trafficking; the gang are useless crime idiots but this is only barely relevant; interrupted foreplay; attempted car sex; unprotected piv sex; fingering; a lot of kissing tbh

Word count: 13.5k

A/N: SO this whole thing actually started HERE in JUNE (jfc, I thought I'd been thinking about this since like, October or something but, no no, a full ten months!!!!). It has drifted from that somewhat but that was its beginning and, honestly, I'm kind of stoked about this fic. I really like how it came out and it's my FIRST MINHO. It's taken me SO long to get around to my bestest evil catdad.

Huge thanks to @violetsiren90 for beta-ing! and also for reading it half-finished when I really needed some encouragment. AND for the title

*~*~*

FIRST 

“Why don’t you fuck off?” 

The voice came from behind you. It was low and cold and threatening. It was directed at Shindong, the man in front of you, whom you were sure was this close to offering to take you home. You whipped around to see who had uttered it. 

Your immediate thought was that he was too short and too slight to be walking up with that level of aggression. Your second thought was interrupted by the spark that shot up your arm when he grabbed your hand. You’d have pulled it back, but his grip was solid and your arm didn’t budge.  

“What the fuck do you want, Minho?” your companion replied, all the charm sliding off his face, replaced with a loathing, arrogant sneer.  

“I want you to fuck off.” 

“She yours? Might want to keep a closer eye on her; she was just about to come home with me.” 

The stranger’s hand squeezed yours, so hard it started to hurt. He offered nothing in response.  

Both men continued to stare at each other. Shindong had inches on Minho – both height and breadth – and you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw him hesitating. He flicked his eyes between you and Minho.  

“What if I want to fight you for her?” 

“What if I told you she’s not legal?” 

Shindong hesitated, moved just a fraction backwards, no longer leaning in, looming over the two of you. He rolled his eyes and gave a heartless chuckle. 

“Not worth the fucking bother,” he muttered as he walked away.  

Minho, still a stranger to you, still holding your hand, who hadn’t even looked your way, pulled you sharply by said hand, storming off and taking you with him. You followed him into one of the warehouse’s many dark corners. He kicked out the couple who were two clothing items shy of a citation for public indecency, and only then did he let you go. Only then did he turn his dark, flaming eyes on you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked.  

Shindong had been your lifeline. What did this guy think he was playing at? 

Your vehemence took him off-guard, surprise flashing across his face, until his scowl returned, worse than before. You understood now why he made Shindong hesitate. His gaze was fierce, penetrating, his jaw set, his mouth a taut, grim line. You would never show your hand to anyone, but a cold droplet of fear slithered down your spine. You straightened it, rolled your shoulders back, lifted your head. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you. 

“Do you know him?” he asked, voice still low, still threatening. 

Not personally. Not until that evening. But people like him came with a reputation that preceded them. A reputation that you were relying upon being based in fact. A reputation that had spread all around your school and beyond, but that you had heard from a source close to the truth. It was close enough that you were able to find him here, in a part of town you’d never been to. It was close enough that you were able to pick Shindong out from this crowd. Close enough that when you approached him and he laughed at you – young, naïve, foolish, all of those things you were sure he thought – you were able to drop his cousin’s name and he suddenly took you seriously. That was what you had been hoping for. A connection was all you needed to keep you covered for a night, at least. Just one would be something. 

And then this guy showed up. 

“I was about to.” 

Minho’s top lip curled, just a fraction, his nose barely wrinkling with the movement, but you got his meaning. Disgust. He could be as disgusted as he liked; that wasn’t your problem. Your problem was that his disgust had led him to chase away your only lead.  

Or was he? Was Shindong your only option? 

You changed tack. Realised that maybe you had another now. Minho, whoever the fuck he was, had approached you as if he knew you and scared off the competition. That must have been it. Despite the way he glowered at you, absolutely no interest or desire lurking behind his dark eyes, you figured you had nothing left to lose.  

You relaxed a little, pouted your lips, played up to the damsel in distress he might have thought you were. 

“But if he’s so awful, I guess I can only thank you,” you said, making your voice soft, your eyes a little wider. You lifted your lips in a tiny, shy smile and then put a hand to them, your thumb and index finger tugging a little on your bottom lip, hoping it made you look small, nervous, sweet.  

He gave you no reaction. He continued to glare, his stance unchanged, unmoving. So you moved. You stepped towards him: shy, little bird steps, until you were so close that he moved backwards. 

“Thanks for looking out for me. Your name’s Minho, right?” 

His eyes tightened minutely. He didn’t reply.  

“I’d like to thank you properly,” you said, sliding your body into his, pressing just one finger against his chest. You fluttered your lashes up at him. 

His face changed immediately. Eyes wide, mouth dropping, and he was stumbling backwards, pressing himself against the wall. 

“What the fuck are you doing? What are you, fifteen?” 

Embarrassment licked your cheeks like flames and your scowl returned. 

“I’m sixteen!” 

“Wow, big age. My mistake. By all means, let’s fuck, Sixteen.” 

His sarcasm was biting but you hadn’t given yourself up yet. 

“Don’t you want to?” you asked, innocently. “You must have sent Shindong away for a reason. If not this, then what?” 

He let out a sigh so aggrieved it was almost a shout. He rolled his eyes.  

“Jesus Christ, where are your parents?” he asked, but it was muttered, almost under his breath and you didn’t know if you were supposed to answer. You did anyway. 

“Dead.” 

His lack of reaction grated. He didn’t flinch. There was no surprise, no guilt on his face. He had robbed you of Shindong and now he had robbed you of your fun: getting a reaction out of people as a poor, orphaned, little Annie was as close as you got these days. Then again, he wasn’t a well-meaning aunt or nosy teacher. He knew what this place was; he knew, or at least knew of, Shindong. Maybe your hand-grenade was, here, little more than a snap. 

“And this is your great life plan? Offering sexual favours to predators?”  

He gestured widely to the room behind you, and you could only assume he did not mean to include himself in that group.  

Actually, it was your plan. Kind of… Insofar as you had any sort of plan at all. You would not be telling him that. You kept your mouth shut tight and jaw clenched, refusing to look down, to be the one to break the eye contact.  

“You know he’s a fucking bad guy,” he said, more softly than he had said anything so far but the hard edge remained.  

“And what are you, my hero?” 

“Absolutely fucking not. I do not want to have anything to do with whatever mess you are making of your life, but I’m not about to let that cunt take off with a child.” 

“I am not a child!” you shouted, right in his face.  

He took it, impassive, unimpressed even.  

“That’s exactly what a child would say.” 

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to smash him in his beautifully sharp jaw, or break that perfect, delicate nose of his. You were just about not stupid enough to try. How did he even know you were young? You knew you didn’t look it; you were always getting told you looked older than you were. How did he know? Why did he care? 

“Go on then,” you said, darkly. “Leave. If I’m not your fucking problem, why don’t you fuck off?” 

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move.  

“Worried I’ll get murdered?”  

You lifted your hands to your open mouth, eyes widened, a mockery of fear.  

His face and tone were flat when he responded.  

“There are things worse than death.” 

Then he pushed past you and out of the door.  

You took one shaky breath and walked after him before you could talk yourself out of it. You decided that, one way or another, this guy owed you and it was time to collect. 

You followed him, not too closely, but not exactly hiding it, for over a mile. You wondered, at one point, if he was trying to lose you, if he was actually heading to his destination or just trying to outlast you. You’d show him. You were a long-distance runner at school; you were extremely confident you could keep up. 

So confident, in fact, so determined were you not to lose him, that you were too slow to notice him slowing, to notice him stopping, to very nearly not stop yourself walking into him.  

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, not turning to look at you. 

“I’m walking here.” 

“Stop following me.” 

“I’m not following you.” 

He raised his eyes skyward. He stood for a moment and you stood, too, waiting for him to continue – walking or talking, you didn’t know which. He finally turned around and looked at you, everything about him a little softer than before. Not soft, but softer.  

“You can’t follow me,” he told you slowly, emphatically. “I am not looking after you. I am not your fath-“ 

“I don’t have a fucking father.” 

He scoffed. 

“Yeah, that much is very clear, Sixteen.” 

“I’m not sixteen!” 

He frowned. 

“That’s what you told me.” 

“That’s not my fucking name! Stop saying it like I’m a child. How old are you anyway?” 

“Old enough to know better.”  

“What does that mean?” 

“Go home, Sixteen.” 

“I don’t have a home.” 

“Well you can’t have mine.” 

He turned on his heel and continued walking, a little faster this time, increasing his pace to a jog as he crossed the road. You knew he hoped you wouldn’t be able to follow, that the flashing green man would disappear before you could make it, but you’d been underestimated before.  

After another mile or so, you saw him take his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. You couldn’t quite hear what he was saying but you thought it sounded like Japanese. Was he Japanese?  

It hadn’t missed you, the knowledge that you had no knowledge of this man. You understood that you were, as far as you knew, in as much danger following him home as you had been going with Shindong. But you literally had no other options. It was follow this guy somewhere or wander around on the street all night; it was too cold to stay out. You hadn’t thought beyond that when you’d left your house earlier that day. Hadn’t thought much at all, except about getting out.  

Now you were out. Mission accomplished. And you had no idea what to do next.  

You almost missed him ducking into a narrow side street, but you caught the door he rushed through just before it shut. He disappeared from view through another door, off to the left of the dingy, dimly lit corridor you found yourself in. You stalked up to it – it wasn’t even fully closed – but something made you hesitate.  

Suddenly the fear that you had been suppressing all night raised its head. Was this a lion’s den? A serpents’ nest? Was Minho playing some kind of long game, saving you from Shindong so you would trust him, so you would follow him here, so he could…? 

“Are you going to fucking stand out there all night?” you heard a voice call from inside. It had to be Minho’s but you wouldn’t have bet on it.  

You fixed your face, your scowl reappearing, and kicked the door open with excessive force. 

It was just a bar. Just him, sitting on a stool with a beer in his hand, and one other guy, standing opposite, looking at you with his eyebrows raised in the way a parent does when they catch their child doing something naughty. 

“You break that door, I’m going to make you pay for it,” he said, in an accent that you knew wasn’t local.  

And, just like a defiant child, you slammed it shut without breaking eye contact. He turned to Minho. 

“Thanks, man. You had to bring home a fucking streetrat.” 

“I am not a streetrat,” you spat. 

“No?” Minho chimed in. “Then where’s your home?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I really wish you would.” 

You sat down in a booth just off to your left and stared him down.  

“She can’t stay here,” the stranger said to Minho, as if you were no longer there.  

“I didn’t bring her; she just came.” 

He, the newest stranger, looked between you and Minho for several seconds. He was looking at Minho when he spoke again. 

“One night. That’s it. And she’s your responsibility.”  

He heaved a box full of empty glass bottles into his arms and wandered away, through a different door, mumbling something about ‘strays’.  

“Who was that?” you demanded as Minho continued to sip at his beer.  

You realised that you hadn’t actually been introduced to him either. And he hadn’t asked for your name. You wondered if he would now. 

“None of your fucking business,” he answered, finally moving from the stool to walk behind the bar.  

He opened the cash register and took bags from a cubby just below it. He produced a tiny pencil from his pocket and tore off a strip of the receipt roll. He took out the cash and started to count. You watched his lips move silently as he flicked quickly through the notes, pausing to drop a stack onto the bar and write a number down. He picked up the next stack and repeated.  

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, not looking up, not even, apparently, pausing in his counting. “Even if you got your urchin mitts on it, you wouldn’t make it to the door.” 

You believed him, but you weren’t planning some kind of move. You didn’t need his money. You were just watching.  

You watched until all the notes and all the coins were accounted for, until they had been put into bags and those bags into a box and Minho turned to follow his friend. You stood from your seat and went after him.   

There were two doors, you realised. Minho took the left. It led to an office. The other guy must’ve taken the right because the room was empty except for furniture and, in the corner, a safe. Minho dumped the box before it and turned to you. 

“Turn around.” 

“Worried I’ll crack the code?” you asked with your eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Just turn around.” 

You did as you were told without a fight because, at that point, there was nowhere else to go. You couldn’t admit defeat and walk out of there; you weren’t sure that Minho wouldn’t make you do just that. It was a knife-edge, being the obnoxious, vile brat that you were. You’d stormed past boundaries before but, well, look where it got you. You were tired and worried enough now to decide you would stop pushing your luck. It had been stretched far enough already. 

There was a second of silence before you heard the beeping of the buttons pressed and the shuffling of bags, the clink of coins, the thunk of a bigger, metallic something against the walls of the safe. He didn’t tell you when he was finished, didn’t say you could turn back around. He just walked past you, out of the office, turning the light off as he went. As soon as you were out of the door, he shut and locked it.  

You followed him back to the bar and he did the same thing: turned off the lights and held a door for you (not politely, not because he was being nice), following you through it and locking this one behind him, too. You walked to the end of the corridor and he gestured you down some wooden stairs that creaked as if they would break under your weight. He turned the corridor light off, too, and locked the door at the top of the steps.  

This was it. You were locked in. There were at least two locks between you and escape. When Minho shoved past you to the left and opened yet another door, your stomach sank a little further. Three locked doors. He didn’t hold this one for you but he didn’t slam it in your face either, so you rolled your shoulders back, put on your game face and walked through.  

You almost regretted it when you saw where it led. It was possibly the worst place you had ever seen. It wasn’t messy, but there was something dirty about the room anyway. Outdoor furniture inside; everything vaguely brown in a way that you didn’t think it had been fresh out of the box; everything tired and worn and sagging; the naked lightbulb dim and humming as it shone; the fridge, scratched and dented and shoved into a corner, also hummed, managing to sound as well as look tired. It was bleak. It was grey. It made you feel like things were crawling on you and you’d only just stepped foot in it.  

You half expected your feet to stick to the floor when you took a few steps forward. They didn’t but the carpet was so old and worn that you had no idea what colour it was originally; in places, you could see the floorboards clearly through the threads. 

Minho pointed to the sofa.  

“There,” was all he said.  

Then he disappeared out of the room. You gingerly sat on the edge, wondering if you should be more concerned about your health or your safety. Maybe you were sheltered here, but you pictured a thousand and one diseases squirming on the cushions. It wasn’t fair to, because you could see that it was cleaned. The room wasn’t filthy; there were no crumbs or water rings on the coffee table; there was no rubbish littering the floor; the sink was empty and a stack of plates and bowls stood beside it, washed if not yet dried. Minho was clearly diligent.  

Minho and whoever else lived here. There were too many doors leading off this room for him to be here alone.  

Your curiosity was stopped in its tracks when he reappeared with a pillow and a towel. He threw the pillow wordlessly at one end of the sofa and then he raised the towel a little. 

“I don’t have any blankets. Don’t get cold.” 

You scoffed a laugh and were grateful that he ignored it. You weren’t indignant; you weren’t being a brat this time. You were dismayed. You couldn’t believe it. A house with no spare blankets. You were going to sleep under a towel. You glanced around you for a final time, tears pricking in your eyes, fingers at your lips, picking nervously. You weren’t going to die here, you told yourself. Probably. You were probably not going to die here and that was all you needed.  

You stood up, turned off the light, tested the door handle (not sure if you wanted it to be locked or unlocked), then returned to the sofa. You took off your shoes, took your bag from your back and hugged it tightly to your chest. You lay in the dark, in a stranger’s horrible house, alone, tired, more vulnerable than you would ever admit. You cried silently, reluctantly grateful for the towel, until you fell asleep.   

SECOND 

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to everyone! Happy birthday to you!” 

You only got one birthday a year. The whole group of you. There wasn’t enough to stretch to everyone getting an individual birthday, an individual cake, a day off. So the middle day of the year, 2nd July, was chosen and you all had a birthday together.  

One cake, one candle each, six people blowing them out. Most unsanitary, but, by now, there wasn’t much you hadn’t shared so a little spit didn’t even register.  

You were too drunk by far, which was stupid really. It wasn’t even your first time drinking legally (because your real birthday wasn’t until later in the year), so there was no reason for you to behave as if you had never had a drink before. You should have learnt a little self-control.  

But it was your birthdays. So you kept having one more and one more and one more. As did everyone else.  

“Nineteen!” Minho called as he fell into the booth next to you.  

“I thought I was Sixteen?” 

He shrugged. 

“You do still act like it.” 

You shoved him, almost hard enough to push him off his seat completely. He shoved you back. 

“Shut up, Minnie.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, plotting death for using the nickname he loathed above all others, and you sent a simpering smile back at him.  

“You’re a little squirt, anyone ever tell you that?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“You, literally all the time, because you are for some reason desperate to sound like the oldest grandpa in the room.” 

He let out a growling sort of cry, dramatic because he’d also had too much to drink. Then he stood. 

“BYE, Sixteen!” 

If someone didn’t know the two of you, it would seem as if nothing had changed in the time since you met: both antagonistic, unlikable, as hard as you could make yourselves, forced together and barely tolerating it.  

Those who did know you, however, knew that things were very different now. Minho had, reluctantly, taken responsibility for you and, when you had grown up just enough to realise what that had meant, you felt all your hard resolve melt.  

They had very little, this ragtag bunch of kids (barely older than you) but they shared everything between them. Never quite enough to go around, money from legitimate enterprises never stretching far enough and having to be supported by money from less than legitimate means. You were a liability. In every sense. The only girl, a stranger, certainly not (at that time) a criminal. But Minho took responsibility and the others let you in.  

When you had learnt to see past your own nose, you saw the myriad ways in which they took care of each other. The silent, invisible way Minho cared for his friends. For you. You hadn’t forgotten the sting of electricity you’d felt when he held your hand way back when. Before you’d even seen him, before you knew his name, before any of this. You felt it all the time now. You were a live wire for him.  

No one in the group was stupid enough to refer to you as siblings or even joke that you acted like them. Your feelings for Minho were your most closely guarded secret but that didn’t mean everyone didn’t know. You were pretty sure even Minho himself knew. Not that he would ever act on it. He pretended not to notice, you thought. You had pushed close to the edge of being kicked out enough times to know that some things were still precarious. To know that he would never risk his weird family by acknowledging there was anything more than friendship between you. If it even was between you. He had given you very little reason to believe your feelings were reciprocated. So you did your best to ignore them.  

They became a fact of life. Like the fact that Minho was the only one Chan trusted to count the cash (not because the others weren’t trustworthy; they just weren’t accurate). Like the fact that Chan had the final say on everything. Like the fact that he would never abuse that authority and act for anything other than the wellbeing of the entire group. It just was.  

And it wasn’t like you were stupid enough to pine. You had some pride. Plenty, in fact.  

You stood from the booth and sauntered to the bar where your sometime-boyfriend, Johnny, was getting another drink.  

“Babe,” you whined, draping yourself over his back, hooking your chin over his shoulder.  

“Babe,” he whined back, copying, mocking.  

“Entertain me, I’m bored.” 

“It’s your party.”  

You pouted and forced him to join you on the makeshift dancefloor. You refused to notice that Minho left it as soon as you joined, his face dropping, looking only at Johnny and never once pleased about it.  

* 

Chan had cut off the booze supply hours ago and the sun was thinking about raising its head above the horizon, which meant that, far from being wasted and happy and giddy and passing out in your bed, your hangover was already crawling in and you were tired and irritable. Johnny had pissed you off sometime before the booze dried up and then pissed off entirely before you’d begun to sober up, so you’d spent the smallest hours of the morning making your bad mood everyone else’s problem.  

Everyone except Minho. Because whilst you were always determined, at these moments, to needle him, to want to get under his skin, to want to scrape it back and spit on it, he was never there. He managed to avoid your venom and, even when he didn’t, seemed immune. He would just slow-blink at you as if he were looking through you and turn away. It boiled your blood and he knew it.  

You stomped downstairs to the same shithole basement you’d walked into two years ago. Everyone else had either left or gone to bed already, you thought. You expected it to be empty. It wasn’t. 

“Fuck sake, Mouse,” you spat, using your usual nickname, his preferred one (… preferred being too strong a term; it was the one he allowed you to use without retaliation). “Why are you sitting on your own like a fucking loser?” 

“You know he treats you like a fucking loser?” 

He turned to lean over the back of the sofa, looking tired under his eyes but energetic within them.  

“Fuck off,” you returned. “As if you give a shit who I date.” 

“Date? That’s what you call it?” He scoffed, deliberately, exaggeratedly, as if you wouldn’t otherwise have recognised his scorn. “He treats you like dirt.” 

“You would know.”  

He was on his feet and in front of you before you could blink.  

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”  

You’d had about enough of it, you decided at that moment. Not enough sleep, too much alcohol, and just enough of this bullshit. You grabbed the front of his T-shirt and pulled him with force towards you. You took him by the back of the neck and kissed him, hard and like you meant it. Because you did. It only took him a second to push you back, hands firm on your shoulders, holding you away from him. His face had lost his usual mask – the blank, passive, flat-eyed one that he used to stare people out with unnatural stillness – but he was still keeping you out; it was guarded, flashes in his eyes being stamped out with every blink, his jaw held tight and his mouth shut.  

“That’s what I fucking mean, Minho,” you hissed.  

“How dare you?” he hissed back, voice so low in his throat you almost couldn’t hear it. “You have no fucking idea.”  

His blinks weren’t quick enough this time to hide all the anger burning in his eyes.  

“No idea of what? What?!” 

His lip curled and he let you go. He let his guard down around you more than he should have: shrugged you off and turned his back on you. You took both palms and pushed him. He tumbled forward, catching his foot on a side table, pulling it down with him as he hit the floor. Cat-like in his reflexes, he was on his feet before the table had stopped rocking. He charged straight at you and continued until you were pressed up against the door, until he was pressed up against you.  

“You want a kiss?” he asked and every part of you should have been screaming yes, because you did.  

You did want a kiss, but nothing about this was how you wanted it. It was a threat, not an offer. You’d been threatened with worse. You jutted your chin out a little, always standing up, never backing down. 

“You going to give me one?” 

His eyes flicked towards your lips, hovered there a second, like he was really thinking about it. They stayed there a little longer and doubt was picking up speed on its race to your consciousness. You thought he wouldn’t. You thought he would. You still couldn’t predict his behaviour. You thought you had him pinned and then he flipped you. You always thought you had him on the ropes, but you never really did.  

You were impatient, tiring of this, doubt and insecurity and embarrassment swelling up inside you and you opened your mouth to tell him to go away, to fuck off and die, to do something vile to himself. It was at that moment that his eyes met yours again, for a split second that sent a streak of ice through your blood, and then his mouth was on yours.  

You had never once looked a gift horse in the mouth, but even if you had wanted to, even if you had decided before he did it that you would push him off, return his rejection, you couldn’t possibly have done it now. His lips were soft, his hands still tight around your arms. He crowded you further against the door, your bodies pressing together as he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entry. You gave it to him. Your hands snaked up his chest and into his hair; it was softer than you’d expected, silky. For a moment, you were disarmed by it. Soft. He never let his softness show if he could help it. Only rarely. Only when he felt safe enough to let his guard down did it ever come creeping out from its hiding place. But here it was, sprouting from the top of his head. Here it was, pressed against your lips, brushing your tongue. You felt weak at the knees. 

As far as kisses go, it was the best you’d had. Fire and ice fighting: goosebumps erupting on your skin as it flushed hot, making you shiver. His mouth was warm and wet and sweet and you were desperate for more, knowing that he was kissing you just right and that you weren’t doing the same. You were too eager, too greedy, too needy. This wouldn’t be enough. Couldn’t be enough. Just his lips on yours, his tongue rolling with yours, his hands still pinning your sides. You couldn’t stop here. You had to have him. All.  

You whined when he pulled back, when his grip on you loosened, and you opened your eyes expecting his to be soft and liquid, to be those sweet, round boba eyes he didn’t show enough of.  

They were hard and flat. He moved away from you in one, long step and back was that impassive blankness he loved so much. 

“Happy fucking birthday,” he said. 

He stalked off to his bedroom and shut the door.  

You stayed, glued to the front door, shaking. With anger, probably. With embarrassment, maybe. With something akin to heartbreak, but you would never admit it. The roaring in your ears, the screaming of invective at both yourself and Minho in your head so loud that you didn’t hear the sound of a key in the lock, weren’t aware that someone was trying to get in until they were shoving at the door, pushing you with it. 

“What the fuck?” came a quiet whine from the other side of it as he slowly pushed you away and got the door open. “Why were you trying to keep me out?” 

Jisung’s hamster cheeks were full of kimbap, the other half of the roll still in his hand, and his eyes were wide with that cute, pitiful look he carried off so perfectly. 

You ignored him. You stomped into your bedroom and slammed the door as hard as you could. 

THIRD 

Despite having your own bedroom (graciously offered up by Changbin and very ungraciously accepted by you), privacy in the small basement flat was an issue. Which is why you were huddled in the farthest corner of it, fists stuffed in your mouth, crying as quietly as you could in the dead of night.  

You lived with five men, but you had not yet found someone to date who would take the threat of them seriously. They did make threats, on occasion, when they had to. Because you had not yet found a man who could treat you as anything more than shit but you had, apparently, found the least bothered and most unfazed men in the city. The one before last had barely flinched when all five of them had battered down his door to come for you, when you had finally managed to get a message out that he was keeping you there.  

You never found out what happened to him. You didn’t ask and no one told you.  

This one hadn’t been that bad. That was the problem. You had thought he was nice. You had thought (as you had so many times before) that he might actually be the first to treat you right.  

You were wrong. So, you were crying in the corner of your room. You didn’t always cry. In fact, you didn’t often cry. Rarely, even. It meant that, when you did, the floodgates opened and you found it hard to stop. You found it almost impossible to breathe, desperately snatching air between sobs. Your head was already pounding, your face aching. It was total and complete the way it overtook you. So much so that you didn’t notice the presence of another person until they sat down beside you. 

You gasped, as much as you could amongst your shaking, shallow breaths, and were only slightly comforted that it was him. He said nothing. He pulled you towards him and held you like that until the storm had passed. 

You continued to sit in silence as your tears dried on your face, as your heartrate settled and your breathing became even. He didn’t make a move to let you go and you didn’t make one either. You were tired. You were sad. You were, though you wouldn’t admit it, a little bit heartbroken. This bit of comfort was exactly what you wanted.  

You didn’t want him to say anything. You didn’t want to hear it. That you’d done it again. That you’d never learn. That, somehow, you were gullible and easy to fool despite the fact that you had been hardening yourself against vulnerability of every kind since you were a child. That men just found a way to get beyond your defences—that bad men found a way. The good ones didn’t find you at all.  

“His loss,” was what he said. 

You lifted your head, tears still clinging to your lashes, drying on your cheeks. He had that look on his face that he saved for you: the soft, sweet one he gave you when you’d earnt it or when you needed it. The one that made your insides curdle, that even now made your heart skip a beat, that you wanted to fall into forever, that had sealed your fate so many years ago now. He blinked slowly at you, cat-like as always, and brushed your hair from your face.  

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came. Your voice was trapped in your throat because he was still looking at you like that but his eyes kept flicking down, then back up, then down again at longer and longer intervals until he closed them completely and brought his lips to yours.  

You didn’t have to think twice. Didn’t have to think at all. Your body did the thinking for you. Your hands pushed into his hair and your legs pushed you up so you could slot them down either side of his hips. His hands found your waist and then the soft skin on the other side of your t-shirt. 

This was nothing like the first time. You remembered it all too well: the electricity, the anger, the volcano of feelings you’d tried to suppress rumbling and threatening to erupt, to blow the lid off the equilibrium you’d found. The hunger, the desperation, your own neediness spoiling it all.  

You weren’t desperate anymore, for his approval, for his love, for whatever he would give you. You wanted it all, would lay yourself on the floor and kiss his feet if he asked, with no hesitation, but you always knew he wouldn’t ask. You’d got used to that.  

Except now he was kissing you – he had kissed you – and his hands were squeezing at your waist and it was slow. Controlled. Deliberate. There was nothing accidental about the way his tongue rolled over yours, the way his teeth bit at your bottom lip, the way his hands pulled you lower on his lap, pulled you closer to him until there wasn’t so much as a breath of air between you.  

“Mouse,” you murmured, quietly into his mouth. 

He shook his head minutely, a tiny hum swallowed by you when he pressed your lips together again. No talking. Fine. You didn’t need to talk. If he kept kissing you, kept touching you, you wouldn’t need to utter another word again. But you couldn’t stop the little gasp when he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck, the moan rising in your throat when he ran his tongue over the same spot, hurting then soothing. Like always. 

It made your brain turn fuzzy, static wavering in your mind, as all your conscious thoughts turned to liquid, melting into Minho’s mouth, swallowed down by him, eaten whole.  

Then the front door slammed hard. 

“Guys!” Chan shouted, in a way that he never did.  

You heard him pounding on doors, opening them, starting with Changbin and Hyunjin’s on the right.  

You sprang apart like two north magnets, instinctively repelled by one another, just in time for Chan to burst through the door and scan the room for you, too wired, too stressed to register that it might have been weird for you to be sitting on the floor like you were, certainly not noticing your kiss-bitten lips or heavy breathing or the way Minho’s hair was ruffled like it had just had a fist in it.  

“We’ve got to go,” Chan announced. “Like, right fucking now.” 

FOURTH 

No one wanted to up the ante. No one wanted to start getting involved with the organised crime lot. Your crime was… disorganised. It was local. It was just you doing the things you needed to, skirting around the law to survive. It wasn’t really crime, not if you squinted hard enough. Then the police raided the bar (which was illegal in pretty much every way that mattered) and you had nowhere left to go.  

There was just enough of the trust your parents left you (which you got access to at 21) to secure a new apartment (one that was not underground) and a small buy-in with a group of much larger, older, more experienced criminals. There was very little else you could’ve done at that point. Or so you all told yourselves.  

The apartment was an upgrade in every way but size. It was newer and above-ground which meant it stayed warm and didn’t get damp. It had windows which let the sun in. It had enough room for two sofas so everyone could sit comfortably. It had a gas hob which really only Chan and Minho cared about, but they cared a lot. It had two bathrooms with reliably hot water and good pressure. It did not get power cuts. It did not always smell musty. It was not brown and beige and grey. But it did have fewer rooms to be parcelled out between you all.  

The last one had four rooms that served as bedrooms. This had three. Between six. There had been furious arguments and endless straw-pulling and no one was happy with the results. It took a few weeks but eventually things shook out as they always should have.  

You shared with Minho because he was the only one who was willing. You both had reputations for being scary (in totally opposite ways: you the raging bull to his still, fathomless water); you loved to take your bad moods out on one another; he was the only one you ever willingly let see you when you were sad and small and vulnerable. Besides which, no one else would dare try to take the space at your side from him. So you shared a bedroom: two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, because Minho refused to sleep in a bunk bed and you refused to sleep together in a double. There was little room for anything else.  

You complained about the sleeping arrangements almost daily. You loved the hot water and the sunlight and the not-mouldiness of the apartment, but some days, you couldn’t bear the way you couldn’t get away from Minho.  

You’d thought you had it bad. This was even worse. 

Four days. Four days, so far, staying (squatting) in a vile, empty, dilapidated villa apartment, staring out of a window, waiting for something to happen. Just you and Minho and one room. For four days and counting.  

It was Minho’s turn to watch and he sat at the monitor, diligent, hard-working, as always, whilst you were supposed to be catching up on sleep. Instead, you were lying on what passed for a bed, tossing an apple into the air and catching it, over and over and- 

“You going to stop that?” Minho asked, with his trademark tone: both light and threatening.  

“Nope!” 

“Want me to make you?” 

You flicked your eyes over to him: he was studying the monitor seriously, but you were sure he had been looking at you.  

You hadn’t spoken about that night. Partly because you hadn’t had the time. You’d jumped up from the floor of your bedroom, grabbed as much stuff as you could fit in the first bag you could find and the six of you had legged it, making it out just in time to watch the police cars roll up and trash the place.  

“There was so much fucking money in that safe,” Chan had said, plaintively, staring at the sky. That was when you’d offered up yours.  

You had had to find somewhere to live, and fast. You’d all had to find jobs, something to do, some way to make money that wasn’t connected to the bar. You had been passing like ships in the night, meeting only to argue about shower time and sleeping arrangements. Then Changbin had come home with a suggestion. You’d argued about that, too, but in the end, it was unanimous. Go in with the bigger boys or – well, there was no ‘or’. That was the point. 

So you and Minho were working recon. You’d pulled the short straw in more ways than one. It was the longest you had spent together. Ever. Confined for days in this space. 

On the first day, he refused to talk to you at all.  

On the second, you made everything into an argument because at least you could get a rise out of him.  

On the third, he had seemed to thaw. Something had softened and you talked, like friends, like you used to. You laughed and joked and it wasn’t so bad. 

Now it was the fourth day and that ice had returned. He had frozen over, doubled-down on silence. No sooner had you had warmed up than he was giving you frostbite, chilblains. Whiplash. Those ten words were the first he’d spoken to you all day.  

“No,” you answered. “I don’t want you to make me.”  

You paused, wondering if the words you were considering were a sign that you were going mad, that being cooped up in this space had sent you a little doolally. The unbearable nothingness of your days passing like sludge forcing all those hidden thoughts forward, with nothing to distract you from them. The words were certainly risky, but Minho had shown his hand. He had kissed you. Like he meant it. And you knew he would’ve continued to kiss you had Chan not interrupted. He’d have continued to do a whole lot more than just kiss you. 

And you were bored.  

“I want you to fuck me,” you said plainly, catching the apple in front of your face and turning to look at him.  

He was still studying the monitor. Nothing on his face gave anything away: surprise, disgust, lust, laughter. Nothing. You were used to that. 

“We’re on a job.”  

“Yeah, and it’s boring and nothing is happening and who fucking cares? I would rather have sex.” 

He sighed and rolled his head to look at you. 

“Really, Sixteen? Now is the time you want to bring this up?” 

“Stop calling me Sixteen.” 

“I always call you Sixteen.” 

“You always call me Sixteen when you want to put me in my place or make me feel like a child. I’m not a fucking child anymore.” 

“I know you aren’t.” 

“Then why won’t you fuck me?” 

He laughed and your blood began to simmer.  

“There’s more that I look for than just ‘is not a child’.” 

“Don’t try to act like you don’t want to.” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” 

“Well then, shall we?” 

He smirked and the glint in his eye was new to you.  

“We’re on a job.” 

“Stop saying that!” you cried, stalking the three steps from your side of the room to his.  

You manoeuvred yourself into his lap, blocking the monitor from his view, and took his face in your hands. 

“We’re on a job and nothing is happening and nothing will continue to happen for ages yet, so why don’t we make it a little less fucking boring?” 

You knew he wanted to. Could see his pupils dilate. Watched his eyes flick to your lips and your chest and back up. This might have been all he wanted: sex and nothing more. You didn’t know. Weren’t interested in having that conversation. Were convinced that it didn’t matter either way. If he only wanted sex, you would give it. Give it until it was too late and he was in too deep to come back out. Hadn’t worked before but there was a first time for everything. 

But even that was beside the point. You were desperately bored and bored of being desperate for him and there was one stone that would kill both those birds.  

“Mouse,” you said quietly, keeping your voice low, as you placed a kiss on his jaw, as you spread your knees a little wider, sinking lower into his lap. “Come on.” 

His hands were on your thighs, neither encouraging nor discouraging, just holding tight. He didn’t respond as you continued to press kisses to his face, to his neck, grinding your hips over him slowly. You could feel his pulse beat fast, noticed the way his breathing was getting heavier, his fingers dipping deeper into your skin, until it hurt. Until he stopped pretending he was going to continue to work, stopped pretending that he could resist you.  

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice hoarse. 

He gripped the hair at the back of your head and pulled you from his neck, tumbling you both to the floor. You didn’t want it to be fast, but you’d take it any way he’d give it. So when his hands pulled at your t-shirt, you let him take it off as you unclasped your bra. He didn’t give you time to fumble with the hem of his top, to discard it for him; he dipped his head straight down, swirling your nipple with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth; he rested his weight on one elbow and his other hand descended. You were grateful you had no buttons, no zips to contend with, just the loose, elasticated band of a pair of leggings that had seen better days. Minho’s fingers slipped beneath it and he circled his fingers around your clit, the fabric of your underwear dulling the sensation only slightly.  

This was moving even faster than you’d expected but you’d been waiting so long already. Blood rushed to the surface of your skin and your breath began to shudder. Underwear now pushed to the side, you gasped when Minho ran a finger through your folds, shivered when he moaned at what he found there. He brought his lips back to yours but you turned away to let his name drop from your open mouth. 

“Mouse...” 

“Shut up,” he said firmly as he sank two fingers into your slick cunt and stole your breath with another kiss.  

You couldn’t talk but you could moan. Could whine. Could whimper as his fingers moved inside you, as he ground his palm against your clit, as he made your thighs twitch and walls spasm. You tried not to lose your mind completely, to stay grounded, to stay present now that this was finally, really, actually happening. You reached your own hands down to Minho’s trousers; he hadn’t got the no-buttons, no-zips memo and your fingers fumbled with both. They shook with adrenalin as you popped the button through the hole and dragged the metal zip down. You pushed them away from you, off his hips, and had one hand in his boxers when the crackle of the walkie-talkie cut through Minho’s moan. 

You both froze.  

“Minho? What’s happening? Chan said they’re on the move?” 

You glanced at each other, for one more frozen second, and then the world lurched into overdrive. Minho clambered to the monitor with his trousers around his ankles and, as soon as he saw the screen, started swearing viciously, tugging at his clothes and throwing your t-shirt back at you.  

“What’s happening?” you asked, breathless for all the wrong reasons now.  

“They’re clearing out,” Minho reported into the walkie-talkie, ignoring you but answering your question anyway. “Two loads have left, a third on its way.” 

“Shit! How did you miss it? What the fuck were you doing?”  

“Nothing! We lost the feed for a minute but it came back quickly and then they were already moving.” 

He shot you a glance, something between panicked plea and angry admonishment. It wasn’t often he was caught on the hop, wasn’t ever. You, however, were used to being on the wrong side of things, so you re-dressed quickly and had already started packing your shit up. No matter how sideways this went, you could take two positives from it. One, you wouldn’t have to stay locked up here with Minho any longer. Two, he definitely, definitely wanted to fuck you. 

FIFTH 

You still hadn’t talked about it. You continued to share a bedroom, sleep there every night, wake there every morning but you had not once discussed the twice now that you had almost had sex. You were waiting for him to bring it up, even though you knew he never would. He wasn’t a coward, not ever, but if there was one word to describe him it was loyal and you knew he would protect your group with his life. And that also meant not pursuing whatever it was that was between you. Because it was a risk. It could jeopardise the stability of what you had established—what Chan had established long before you ever came into the picture.  

But you were digging your heels in this time. You’d already come on too strong. Your pride was being wounded with each day that passed, with each day that he continued to pass you up. You’d crack first. You knew you would. You always did. Minho was unbreakable. You weren’t. But you wanted to pretend, for at least a little while, that you could be. That you could be impenetrable, too.  

* 

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Junho repeated as he slammed into the car, instructing Minho to drive before the door was even shut.  

Minho didn’t need telling twice.  

“Where to?” 

“Safe house,” he gasped, ragged breathing setting your teeth on edge. 

You didn’t ask what had happened. What had gone wrong. That didn’t matter as much as getting out. Getting Junho out. You were disposable, still. You knew that. Even Minho. You were runts; you also still had something to make up for given what happened on your last assignment. So you travelled in silence. Junho in the back, breathing heavily; you didn’t turn around to see if he was ok. You didn’t want to know. You assumed he wasn’t but as long as you could hear him breathing, you knew he was alive.  

Minho was facing forward, eyes scanning the roads ahead, reflexes allowing him to run red lights without accident – in this part of the city, no one would stop a flashy car like this for speeding, for driving recklessly. That was what they all did. His jaw was tense, eyes tight. He looked calm but you could see his little legs kicking under the water. You knew him well enough by now.  

You didn’t keep your eyes on the road. You kept them on him. Felt like someone needed to be watching out for him, too – not that there was anything you could have done to be helpful anyway. There were always two in the getaway car. That was the rule and you didn’t ask why because you didn’t want to know the answer.  

As a teen, you had thought you knew everything. You were old enough now to know not only that you knew nothing but also that you preferred it that way. Need to know basis. For everything. All the time.  

Minho slowed, driving more carefully as the car left the city, winding across hills, negotiating turns that you’d have driven straight over, plummeting you all to a miserable death. He turned the headlights off at the mile marker he’d been told about, one that you’d already forgotten, and crawled, slower still, up to the house, blanketed in darkness, hidden by an overgrown and untended garden.  

Junho grunted. 

“Thanks. Wait until I give the signal then get the fuck out of here. Do not go anywhere you’ve ever met with us. Ditch the car when you can; destroy the plates.” 

He didn’t wait for a response. You watched him stagger away and then waited until the light in the top right room flicked on and off and on and off again.  

Minho put the car in reverse and slowly backed out. At a further mile marker, he turned the lights on. He continued to climb, driving away from the city still, until the car reached the top of the hill. The lights from the city were so bright you almost didn’t need the headlights at all. It didn’t feel a safe place to stop. Too visible.  

Then Minho slowly and quietly backed the car into nook on the hillside. No doubt worn away from years of cars trying to pass each other on the narrow road, it barely contained the car, but it put it in some shadow and no one would hit you.  

He turned the engine off and let his hands fall to his lap. His head tipped back against the headrest and he sighed.  

“You ok?” 

You asked him all the time and he never gave a serious answer because he always was. And if he wasn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to talk about it. But you asked all the same.  

He nodded then turned to you. 

“You?” 

You laughed nervously, suddenly feeling the last twenty minutes as the adrenalin began to drain. 

“Kind of feel like I could hurl.” 

He laughed too and nodded again.  

“I feel like I want to sleep for a thousand years but also like I could run a marathon,” you continued.  

“I feel half-dead already but also fucking invincible.” 

He held his hand out and it trembled. You clasped it between yours and held it tight. He smiled; from where you were sitting, it looked like a smirk, but then he turned more fully towards you and it wasn’t. It was sweet. His eyes were gleaming. Your mouth dried.  

“Half-dead, huh?” And you knew you were going to say it. You always knew you would be the one with which it would raise its head. “How about a little dead? A little death, even?” 

“Sixteen…” 

His voice had that warning tone to it but the gleam in his eyes remained and you’d broken the seal now. Were going to push this as far as he’d let you.  

“Mouse…” 

You saw him waver. Absolutely, definitely, were certain that he was considering it. Until a car came over the crest of the hill and its headlights flashed in at you; at the same moment, Minho’s phone buzzed from the cup holder it had been thrown in. You jumped. He jumped. Whatever moment there had been was gone now.  

Minho took his hand from your grasp and checked his phone. Then he put the car in gear.  

“We’ve got to get out of here.” 

* 

You expected it to be quick. Expected it to be simple. It turned out to be neither. You had managed to destroy the plates and were very near clear of the car you’d now abandoned when you, once again, found trouble (‘why did it always have to be you?’ you had asked yourself fleetingly as Minho shoved you towards your own piece of shit car that had been waiting for your getaway; he had not waited for you to be fully seated or your door to be closed before he slammed a foot on the accelerator and squealed off). The two of you were screaming around corners, tearing out of the city in whichever direction provided the easiest escape. With the headlights off and the city lights streaming into the distance, you could barely see the road in front of you, had no idea how Minho was still driving straight. You trusted him with your life and it was just as well, because it was in his hands. His, yours, and potentially everyone else’s, too. 

The summer sun was minutes away from popping its head above the horizon when you were finally able to return home. 

You sat in silence for a few moments. You had moved beyond exhaustion into this kind of frayed, wired alertness. You felt your eyelids dropping even as your heart still hammered. Minho’s hand found yours.  

“Mouse,” you said, letting the rest of it fall away unspoken.  

“Yeah,” he replied but you didn’t know if that was his answer. “Just give me a minute.” 

You were too tired to argue so you let silence fall again. You were almost dropping off, head just beginning to nod, when he tugged on your hand.  

“Come here.”  

You turned. You leant. His other hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer. He kissed you. Electricity crackled and a surge of energy rushed through you. It was happening again. He was kissing you. You couldn’t let this time pass by.  

You scrambled in your chair, forgetting to undo your seatbelt, being pulled back by it and swearing coarsely when your lips broke from his. You clambered over the gearstick and the handbrake and fell with one foot heavily in the footwell as Minho slid his seat all the way back. You didn’t have time to care about the jarring in your knee or the bump on your head as it hit the roof. Could barely feel it. Didn’t matter.  

Well, it didn’t matter until it did. Until there wasn’t really room enough for you to straddle him. Until you were pressing yourself up against the roof so there would be room for him to get his hands to his belt. Until you lost your balance and fell backwards, landing with bump on the steering wheel, which blared out into the dark dawn street.  

“Fucking hell,” Minho muttered. “Get in the back.” 

More willingly than you ever had, you did as you were told. He moved his seat forward again, all the way, and you watched him climb through to you, hands reaching for him. It was no less awkward. Not enough room to lie down. Still not enough height to sit. Not space enough between the back and front to kneel. It was messy and uncoordinated, grabbing for anything, taking what you could get, knocking into the window and falling off the seat, kicking and elbowing each other in a tangle.  

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Minho roared, in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. “No use. Not happening.” 

He sat back and sighed, trousers undone but still around his hips. He pushed his hands through his hair and you tried to settle demurely next to him, smoothing your own hair, zipping up your jeans, swallowing hard as you fought to accept that he was right. It was not happening. Not here. Not now.  

You stared through the car window and were sure you could’ve punched straight through it. You wanted to. It was the window, Minho, or yourself. Couldn’t effectively punch yourself. Knew you wouldn’t dare hit your mouse. Your fingernails pressed sharply into your palm as you squeezed your fists tightly.  

A hand covered yours. Gentle. You looked at Minho and there he was: your secret, soft guy. You unfurled your fingers and he linked them with his own. 

“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s just go home.” 

FIRST 

You tramped into the apartment, bringing your bad mood with you. Everyone was sick of it by now – you were sick of it, but you couldn’t shake it.  

Minho was avoiding you. That much was clear. He had been avoiding you since you tried and failed to fuck in the car. You didn’t know why because you didn’t care. You had reached the end of your tether with the universe. Three times now. But still no cigar. You wondered – asked yourself a hundred times a day – what it was going to take to make this happen.  

Frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it. You could go out and hook up with whoever you liked. You could get yourself off just fine. But it ran so much deeper than that. If you pulled at the thread, it tugged on your heartstrings, all tangled up in knots. It hurt. It pulled at something so deeply interwoven with your very being; all anyone had to do was follow it to its source and they could destroy you. All anyone had to do was cut it and they’d cut you, too.  

You didn’t like that. Hated it, in fact. Hated that all this tugging and wiggling had opened up a hole and you could feel your vulnerability exposed. You could feel weakness leaking out of you, seeping from your pores, visible to the naked eye, for anyone to see.  

It made you bitter. Made you angry. Made you lash out even when you shouldn’t have. Because you were always on the defensive. Even now. Especially now. 

You knew the others were talking about you. About Minho. About the two of you. Knew it from the awkward silences when you walked in a room and the furtive glances and the group chat that had grown curiously quiet, leaving you to assume that there was a separate one you weren’t a part of.  

You were beginning to lose your patience and you were not starting with a plentiful supply.  

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm your rage. You had woken with it, just like every other day this week, and it would not leave you. You breathed slowly and carefully and tried to think of difficult and boring things.  

You thought only of Minho.  

Then he opened the door. He hesitated – you could feel him standing there, assessing – and then shut it, leaving you alone. As the door clicked, you felt that tug. You felt the knots tighten, so impossibly tight now that the joins weren’t even visible. You jumped up and threw yourself through the door. 

“Stop fucking ignoring me!” 

You hadn’t meant to shout.  

Minho turned and looked at you. His stillness enraged you further. He didn’t say anything. 

“Are you going to fucking say anything?!” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“ANYTHING! You haven’t spoken to me for weeks! You literally walk out of rooms if I’m in them! What the fuck is wrong with you?”  

“You think this is easy?”  

His voice was cold and sharp as steel. His head cocked lightly to the side and his eyes narrowed, peering at you, looking inside you.  

“You think I want it to be like this?-” 

“I don’t know what you fucking want!” 

His nostrils flared. This delighted you. He was annoyed and you loved it. 

“Not once,” you continued, still shouting because you couldn’t rein it in, “have you ever fucking told me. Not once have you ever actually said what you want! That you want me. Do you? Fucking do you? Because I don’t fucking know anymore! Every time we get close, you get further away from me! I’m not a fucking yo-yo, Minho. You can’t play with me-” 

“Play with you? You think I’m playing? What part of this is a game?”  

His voice was rising now, too, his perfectly blank mask slipping. 

“It’s never been a game, Sixteen! Not once in the entire time since we met has it been a game! How are you still not getting it? Junho almost fucking died and if he had, it would have been our fault! We all almost ended up in prison because of the fucking bar. The night we met you almost got yourself trafficked! It’s not a game! You act like life is so fucking simple! It’s not!” 

“IT IS! It can be that fucking simple! Stop overthinking! Stop taking everything so fucking seriously!-” 

“It is serious! That’s what you don’t get!” 

He was close now, had been inching closer and closer, and he was looking down at you, his eyes black as pitch, his jaw tight, his breath struggling through clenched teeth.  

“You don’t get it and you never have.”  

His voice was quiet, back to that steel that sent a chill down your spine.  

“Everywhere you go, I look out for you. Everywhere you are, I am responsible for you. It’s been nine fucking years, Sixteen, and you are everywhere I go.” 

Your vision tunnelled, stomach fell to your feet. You had to look away and hated yourself for it. You never flinched. You never backed down. You were never the first to retreat. Except for him. You couldn’t bear to look in his eyes, to see what loathing and disdain they held for you. Your embarrassment was on your cheeks already and pricking in your eyes.  

Then his nose nudged yours and he took more steps forward. He pushed you slowly against the wall and you cursed yourself for retreating to it. 

“You are in my life and in my bedroom and in my fucking head,” he whispered. “All the time. All the fucking time. And I haven’t been able to do shit about it because you are my job. You are mine to protect. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I would burn this place to the ground for you. I would scorch the earth. I would drain the sea. For you. Don’t you get it? When it comes to you, I’m a fucking liability.”  

You risked it. A glance. Lifted your eyes for less than a second but you had to do it again. Had to stop there, be sure you were really seeing what you thought you were.  

Soft, round, liquid eyes. An openness in his face that he hadn’t let you into before. His mouth was still a grim line, turned down at the corners so slightly, had it been anyone but you, it would have gone unnoticed.  

“Mouse...”  

You tried to whisper but could barely manage that, his name creeping out on a hoarse gasp.  

He moved his face closer to yours, lips almost touching.  

“Don’t you get it?” he repeated.  

You got it. Because everything he said was true for you, too. You’d started out as a liability, for sure, but you had continued to be one because Minho was your north star. Not Chan. Not the group. Not whatever sense of purpose you might have derived from the life you had cobbled together. If he said jump, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You would jump. You’d been following him since day one and, then, it might have been desperation, a lack of options. Now... well, there was still desperation: a desperate need for him, a desperate desire to be wanted by him, kissed by him, touched by him. You had other options. Options you would never take, not as long as he existed. You would stop existing before you ever thought of leaving him.  

You nodded, feeling more like a foolish, vulnerable 16-year-old than you had when you were foolish and vulnerable and 16.  

He sighed, breath sweet with the pudding he could never resist, and you were closing your eyes, tilting your chin up, expecting him to give in.  

He turned away. You watched him, mouth agape in disbelief, as he pushed his hands through his hair.  

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” you screamed, bringing your hands down on his back in something that was half-shove, half-slap.  

He had whipped around before you could lower your arms and you found your wrists caught in his hands.  

“You don’t fucking stop, do you?” he hissed.  

“Why would I stop?! I don’t want to stop, Minho! And nor do you! You can’t say you don’t! Because I KNOW. I KNOW you want it. I know you want me. And I’m fucking throwing myself at you. Take me! TAKE ME!” 

His eyes were hard and dark. His fingers pushed so tightly into your wrists that you could feel your pulse against them. He was breathing heavily, nostrils flaring but lips shut tight, pressed together in a thin line.  

“Take. Me,” you repeated, level and firm, not sure if he would, but sure that, if he didn’t, things would never be the same again.  

You couldn’t do this a fourth time. Couldn’t put yourself in his hands, have him take you, and then... Not. And then stop. And then act as if you didn’t exist. That thread between you, tied up in your heartstrings, was taut, stretched, at its limit. And so were you. 

The pause was painful. Excruciatingly long. Adrenalin coursed through you, making you hot, making you shake, making your heart beat so hard against your ribs you thought they might break. Thought your heart might break. Hadn’t been willing to admit how fragile it was but it felt like venetian glass now. You could already feel the cracks forming, the web extending, the shards- 

He kissed you. Pulled you roughly towards him by your wrists and kissed you. Put his hands on your hips, then slid them under your top, and still kissed you. He was kissing you. It took a few seconds to slip back into your body, to feel it, the soft petal of his lips against yours, the sharp bite of his teeth, the wet warmth of his tongue. You forgot your shattering heart and grabbed his T-shirt, using it to pull him closer, to drag him into your shared bedroom. 

Not that he needed dragging. You stumbled over each other’s feet as you tried to kiss and walk and grope all at once. You tumbled backwards onto his bed and took the brief separation as an opportunity to lose your top, to unclasp your bra. Your hands were in the waistband of your joggers when Minho climbed over you, topless now too, breathless as he mirrored your actions, pushing his trousers and his boxers over his hips. He huffed a frustrated sigh as you giggled, as he stood back up to take them all the way off, to kick them off his ankles and take yours away, too.  

He didn’t give you time for admiration, for appraisal. He lay his body over you and his lips pressed against yours, quickly, firmly, before trailing them across your jaw and down your neck. He was every bit as vicious as you thought he would be, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin, sinking into your soft flesh. You wanted him to mark you, wanted the proof of it to last. You scraped your nails down his back and he hissed when you broke the skin. Hissed but didn’t complain. Hissed and moved his mouth lower, swirling his tongue around your nipple, sinking his teeth into that, too.  

When you tugged on his hair, he pulled off, looked at you, his face an open question. You shook your head. 

“It’s fine,” you panted. “I like it. I just want to pull your hair.” 

He laughed and clamped his teeth over your breast again, harder this time, so you keened and your back arched into him. You twisted his roots in your fist and he moaned, eyes flicking up to yours as he kissed across the valley of your chest.  

“Do that again.” 

“Fuck,” you gasped, tipping your head back, doing as he had asked and tugging hard.  

The ache you felt for him had ballooned inside you, taken up all your hollow spaces. There was your flushed skin and your fluttering heart, your rushing blood and your deep, persistent ache for Minho. Nothing more. Nothing less.  

“Mouse,” you whispered, voice tight with desire. “Touch me, please.”  

You never asked. You didn’t beg. If you liked a guy, you let them do what they wanted with you, and if you didn’t, you took what you wanted. It was always one-sided.  

But this wasn’t. It was Minho. It was the fathomless depth in his eyes as he lay his mouth all over you. It was the slip of his fingers through your soaked folds as he sucked sweet bruises against your neck. It was the sound of a moan caught in his throat when you wrapped your fingers around his hard, leaking length. It was mutual. It was reciprocated.  

It was burning you up, hotter and sweeter than you’d ever felt before. His fingers sinking into your core made you shudder with delight. The twitch in his cock as you brushed your thumb over his head made your mouth water. The sound of his mumbled sweet nothings pressed against your skin, whispered in your ear, licked straight into your mouth, made you dizzy.  

“So soft,” he said. “So wet... Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful... I’ve wanted this for so long... Wanted you...”  

He used your name, your real one, the one he didn’t learn (didn’t ask for) for months after you met. You returned the favour, ‘Minho’ tripping from your lips, until he shook his head. 

“Mouse,” he murmured, mouth still pressed against yours. “‘Mouse’ is yours.”  

“Mouse,” you echoed and he nodded before kissing you so that you could say nothing at all. 

* 

You barely spoke, couldn’t catch your breath enough to form the words, couldn’t engage your faculties to find any to say. Minho spoke, though, more than you had ever heard him speak: praise and exclamation and remembrance and, yes, even admonition, but it was all so sweet, syrupy, dripping from his tongue like honey. You’d never heard him speak like this before, never had him melt in your hands or in your mouth, never felt him as easy and pliable as this.  

It wasn’t just his body. It wasn’t just the perfect smoothness of his warm, soft skin. It wasn’t just the stretch, the fullness, he made inside you, the insistent rhythm of his hips thrusting his cock tightly into your slick, waiting warmth. It wasn’t just his wet, sugary mouth, at your lips, at your jaw, at your clavicle. It wasn’t just all these things he was doing to you, all the things you were doing to him. 

It was his open eyes, round and shining and fluttering closed as your walls clenched around him. It was the tenderness in them, the depth he was letting you see, for more than just seconds at a time. It was the gentle tracing of your face with his fingers, even as he fucked into you, even as his teeth drew blood beneath your skin. It was Minho, the entirety of him. Yours. Finally yours. Finally giving in to you, giving himself to you.  

You got it. You had said you did and you had, but now, beneath him in his bed as he loved you, you actually understood the magnitude of it. His feelings for you. Yours for him. Held back behind a dam for so many years and now, the dam had broken. Now came the deluge that would flood the world, could drown everyone in it.  

To hell with them, you thought. To hell with anyone else. You found what you needed almost a decade ago. He found you. You found each other, somehow, by some miracle.  

When the pleasure swelled up in your core, toes curling, back breaking, you cried out with all the breath you had in your lungs, felt tears sting in your eyes, and the following inhale wobbled and shook. Minho paused, pressed his forehead against yours, kissed you lightly, didn’t have to ask the question out loud.  

You nodded and kissed him again, then again, each time hungrier than the last. You didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to feel anything but this, but him. He moved slower now, though, hips rolling smoothly, lips not leaving yours, even when he spoke, even when he murmured how fucking good you felt, how much better than he’d imagined, how hard he was trying not to come, how he didn’t want this to end.  

You couldn’t take it. Thought you really would cry, thought you would collapse entirely under his weight, under the weight of everything you’d been carrying around, all these feelings: all this love and fear and frustration. He pushed you to the edge again without even trying, your red thread thoroughly tangled, inseparable now, and pulling a greater ecstasy from you than you had ever known.  

He couldn’t hold out either, his final, sharp thrusts filling you with his sticky release. You held him there, as close as he could be. He kissed you, so light it was barely there, his fingers grazing your face as he pushed the hair from your brow. 

“Mouse,” you choked, tears threatening your waterline.  

He kissed you again, that little butterfly kiss; you’d never seen him be this gentle.  

“Sixteen,” he whispered and, for possibly the first time, it didn’t sound like disdain, didn’t come accompanied by a smirk or an eye-roll; it was hushed and secret and just for you.  

As it had always been.  

* 

You lay on his chest, bodies pressed together in the small, single bed, as they would have been even if the bed were bigger.  

“I want some water,” he said, lips against your forehead before he manoeuvred himself out from underneath you. “Want a drink?” 

You nodded and he smiled down at you as he fetched clean underwear and pulled a T-shirt over his head.  

You watched him go, watched him open the door, and then heard the sound of party poppers, whoops, and applause.  

The apartment was empty. Had been empty when you entered your bedroom. In the midst of everything, you had failed to notice the gang return home. They had not failed to notice you and Minho.  

“Fucking finally!”  

“You mean, they finally fucked?” 

Laughter resounded from the living room. Minho turned around, closed the door, and climbed back into bed without a word. 

[kpopnstarwars]

Stray: Lee Dokyeom x Cat Hybrid!Reader

A/N: so there are a lot of hybrid AUs out there where the members are the hybrids but it got me thinking about dk with cat hybrid reader (i heard dk was allergic but dw i got it covered)

tw: 18+ because of eventual smut, swearing, hybrids are not treated well by society, a bit of trauma from reader being treated badly, reader doesn't have a home or food at the beginning, reader is extremely emotionally repressed whoops, mentions of death + starving, not really slow burn it's just long and has weird pacing because i refuse to cut out some bits, dk is a huge ball of sunshine, it starts off waffly but gets sm better i promise, cheating and breakup (not dk and reader),

wc: 11.7k (oops)

you'd had your dealings with humans, and most weren't pleasant

as a hybrid, you didn't fully belong with cats or humans

the latter often thought you were inferior, and treated you as much

you find your fully cat form is much more agreeable to your human form with ears - it feels less obvious that way, even though normal cats can smell that you're a hybrid

still, the world isn't kind, and you don't have a home

you'd stood up for yourself at your last job - a secretary in a huge office block - pointing out that you got a much lower salary than the comparable human employees, and had been promptly fired

briefly, a human couple had taken you in, but once they realised you were a hybrid, they kicked you out

which leaves you where you are now, wishing that you were just one or the other and not both

the winter is especially harsh this year, and your soft coat, matted from too many days on the streets, doesn't do much to keep out the cold

the wind is cutting, and you find yourself slinking through the back gardens of some low rise flats, wondering if anyone will spot you and think you're just a stray cat

you can't believe you're stooping this low, but you'd rather this than death by frostbite

like hell you're just going to give up now

it's not like you'd stay permanently without the home owners knowing you're a hybrid, anyway - you know how that ended last time

the muffled sound of laughter floats towards you, and you scale a fence, following the noises until you make your way into a rather overgrown garden

warm light spills through the glass doors, and you curl up on the patio, at the edge of the beam cast by the full kitchen

by full, you mean full

there must be over ten guys in there, all crammed shoulder to shoulder around the dining table, laughing raucously

they're all human, from what you can tell

you can feel a bit of the warmth seeping out from the miniature crack under the door, but before you dare inch forward, further into the light, one of them turns around

he's got a sweet face, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs at one of his friend's jokes

the hackles on your back rise as you feel his gaze on you

you've learnt that when humans smile it doesn't always mean they're good people

retreating quickly, you find yourself thankful for the crowded garden, slinking behind a bush to get out of sight

you immediately feel the lack of warmth, the laughter more muffled from here

for some reason, an empty feeling wells up inside you, like you lost something

like you strayed from the path of your destiny

but deep inside you, the survival instincts tug you away from the warm kitchen and the warm smiles

those instincts haven't failed you yet, so why would they fail you now?

however, despite your so called survival instincts, you find yourself in the same garden a week later

again

you'd visited a few times, but they didn't really count, because all you did was peer furtively over the fence, ears swivelling vigilantly

you'd caught sight of the guy who spotted you before, peering outside and frowning

you assume he's the one who owns the bottom floor flat

you hope he was wondering if he should get his garden in order, because if he was, you whole heartedly agree - you almost poked yourself on the brambles a few times

right now, the Guy is washing up, his sleeves rolled up and his hair a bit of a mess, elbow deep in the soapy sink water

his glasses keep falling down his nose

the kitchen lights are on - it's almost dark, and the night's chill is creeping further into your bones

it's been so long since you've been inside that you find indoor lights kind of... mesmerising

it might seem strange, but you almost crave the fake yellow light the light bulbs give off

the Guy suddenly stops washing up and you almost fall off the back fence that you're perched on, thinking he's seen you

then he bobs his head in time to a beat you can't hear while busting out some quite respectable dance moves, and you realise he's just listening to music

it must be some pretty good music - now he's singing, and you can hear it faintly

wow, he's good

he also looks pretty engrossed

that's your queue; you jump down from the back fence, your paws pattering against the frosty patio as you approach

there's something that always draws you back here

and it's not just because of the warm air radiating from his badly insulated flat

still, you're wary - he might seem friendly, and you might feel a certain pull towards him, but that doesn't mean anything

lots of things have felt right that weren't

you're not making any mistakes this time

you're tired of being mistreated because you're a hybrid, and tired of being seen as a pet and not a person

never mind if this ends with the Guy feeding you caviar some cats could only dream of, if he looks at you funny, you're not going to even set foot in his mess of a garden again

with that thought, you curl up beside the glass door, happy to bask in the lingering warmth from the kitchen and enjoy the artificial light

turning your head, you peer at the Guy over the lip of the door

his shoulders are turned in your general direction, but he's looking studiously at the dishes in the sink, shimmying his shoulders and tapping his foot along to the rhythm of the music, so you decide to stay a little longer

that's when the grey clouds coalescing above you decide to start snowing

you feel the fur on your sides fluff up in response, and you wrap your tail around your paws, edging an inch closer to the door

the air is bitingly cold, and you wonder if you'll make it through the night if the snow settles

you haven't eaten a real meal in ages, and you're suddenly aware that it means your poor little cat body has even less insulation

you're certain that if you don't find shelter soon, tonight will be your last

but do you really want to seek help from some random human?

it's ended badly before, but you know it could have ended worse

you won't let that happen again

abruptly, you stand up, tail lashing in irritation at yourself - like hell you're going to come crawling into some human's home, ears pinned back like you need their help

it's not your fault you were born a fucking hybrid

you're halfway down the patio when a warm gust of air blasts down your spine

you wonder if hallucinating heat is an early symptom of hypothermia but continue resolutely making your way towards the back fence

'hey,'

you whip around, a snarl half forming on your face in shock, but it's just the Guy

he leans in the doorway, a smile on his face and his eyes sparkling

'you can come in, if you want.'

the warmth coming from inside his flat is absolute bliss

you're a metre away from the open door, but you can feel your bones defrosting, and you know however hard you try, you can't leave now

not now that he's offered

not when his kind smile triggers not zero, but minus one alarm bells in your head

you approach but hesitate, knowing you're being too quick to give in - he doesn't know you're a hybrid, and you don't know if he's secretly evil and plans to skin you as soon as you step through the door

just to be safe, you stop just out of kicking distance, staring up at him quizzically

surely, he wouldn't voluntarily let a hybrid into his house - you're much more expensive to look after than pets, because you'd basically be another human in the house who can't earn enough to pay bills

you're considering backing out, even with that delicious heat emnating from his kitchen, when he moves to the side so you have a clear path in

your eyes widen a little

you feel like he's being too nice

he laughs a little at your indecision, squatting down so he looks smaller and less intimidating

'come on. i know it must be way too cold out there. i'll let you out whenever you want to leave, if that's what you want.'

that's the final straw

you step over the threshold and bolt

you're not even sure where you're going, but you swerve away from a room where there are clothes strewn over a chair and the desk filled with clutter - that's definitely his bedroom

the only other room that isn't the bathroom or the kitchen is a dusty room full of cardboard boxes and a bed with no sheets on it

a guest room, you assume

flattening yourself against the floor, you crawl under the bed

quickly, you tuck yourself behind one of the boxes which had been artfully stuffed underneath the bed

once you're settled, it occurs to you that that was frankly rude of you

the Guy let you into his flat, and the first thing you do is sprint past him and invade his guest room

but then again, he probably thinks you're just some feral cat who he saved from becoming a feline icicle, so your behaviour would make sense

you tense when you hear footsteps pass the door, but he doesn't come in, just walks into what you assume is the bathroom

a few minutes later, you hear the shower turn on, and you relax a little more

maybe he'll let you be for now

curling your tail over your nose to stop yourself from snorting in the ridiculous amounts of dust under the bed, you wedge yourself further behind the box and close your eyes

it's amazingly warm in the Guy's flat, you'll give him that

warm enough that despite the hunger that's been gnawing at your stomach for the past week, you find yourself falling into a sleep deeper than you've been able to reach for ages

you'll get to sorting out the details of your little invasion of his flat in the morning

for now, you're happy to sleep

when you wake up, he's gone

understandably, though - he must work pretty hard to afford a nice-ish flat like this, and it is also twelve noon

unfortunately, he doesn't appear to have any cat flaps, so that means you'll have to momentarily shift into your very naked human form to let yourself out the back door

you wonder if you should check in his fridge if he's got anything to eat, but then you decide against it - he's already given you a place to stay for the night, no need to eat his food as well

ignoring the call of the fridge and the shower, you pad over to the back door, pausing when you see something propped against the glass

it's a little whiteboard, and as you approach, you make out the writing

it's got 'hi, i'm dokyeom, dk for short :D' written across the top, with a little flow chart beneath

it starts with two options: 'are you a hybrid' with a box for ticking under 'yes' and 'no'

under the option for 'no', it says 'i'll buy cat food' and under 'yes', it says 'there are spare clothes in the guest room and towels in the bathroom (both clean, don't worry), help yourself to anything in the fridge'

you sit down on your haunches, shocked

so he did consider that you could be a hybrid?

and he's alright with it?

plus, he managed to leave clothes in the room you were sleeping in, and you didn't wake up?

maybe your instincts aren't as good as you thought

or maybe your body thought you were safe last night - safe enough to not wake you up when the Guy (dokyeom, you've learnt from the mini whiteboard) came in

you cock your head, staring at the whiteboard for a few moments longer before making your decision

honestly, it's not hard to choose

you make your way to the bathroom, already eagerly anticipating a shower

sure enough, he's left a towel on the rail, and you're quick to hop into the shower, shifting into your human form and turning up the heat high

it's strange to be out of your cat form, your body suddenly seeming too large and ungainly, your senses immediately dulled

but in a way, it's also freeing - you haven't been able to be like this in ages, as clothes unfortunately don't shift with you from cat to human form

you feel more real this way

that's the problem: you can't exist as just one or another, both animal and human are part of your soul, your essence - you can't just pretend that one half of you doesn't exist

eventually, you drag yourself out of the shower

you're aware that he might have limited hot water, and what kind of guest would you be if you used it up before he even got a chance to get home?

wrapping the towel around you, you slip into the guest room to put on the clothes he'd left there

it's a pair of black tracksuit bottoms, a large white t-shirt and a grey hoodie, all obviously his

even in your human form, you can smell the mixed scents on his clothes

there's the fresh smell of clean laundry, a hint of aftershave, and his own unique scent: you can't quite put your finger on it, but it feels... cosy

it's a smell that's all over his house, actually

barefoot, you enter the kitchen again, scooping the whiteboard off the floor so you can write on it

you tick the box under 'yes'

underneath that, you write a quick note:

'thanks for letting me stay. i'll be out of your hair in no time, i just needed somewhere for the night. you're very kind, dk. thank you so much :))'

signing your name and setting the whiteboard down on the counter on the way to the fridge, you rummage around, wondering what you can cook

you're pleasantly surprised - the contents of his fridge aren't awful, and although they could be organised a little better, it's thankfully not full of expired ready meals or anything like that

feeling better than you've felt in ages, you wander around his kitchen until you find his rice cooker, and then you get cooking

you're absolutely ravenous, but you make sure to make enough for him too - he's been unnecessarily kind to you, this is the best you can do for him

you're just finished washing up your dishes when your instincts prickle

it's a sensation that happens a lot when you're in your human form - it means that your cat form would be picking up something that your human senses are too dull to detect

rushing back to the bedroom, you slip out of the clothes he laid out for you, hastily folding them before shifting back to your cat form

logically, you have no reason to fear

he's been nothing but kind to you, but he's still a human

and humans aren't always as nice as they seem

you feel so much more secure in your cat form - smaller, faster, better at avoiding sticky situations, better at surviving

your ears twitch as you hear a key scrape in the lock

that must be him - dk

you stand indecisively in the middle of the guest room, your claws sinking unconsciously into the carpet before you hastily retract them

by then, he's toed his shoes off and is in the kitchen

you hear a soft 'oh'

he's probably found the whiteboard on the counter, moved from where he left it, and the dinner you cooked for him

he calls your name then, and you almost jump out of your skin before you remember you wrote it on the whiteboard

feeling far too nervous, you trot out into the corridor, nudging the kitchen door open before entering

he's right there, leaning against the counter, his smiling eyes bright as he looks down at you

this is the first time you've really seen him, really realised you let your guard down and allowed some random guy to let you into his house

he looks absolutely huge

like, he could crush your cat form in his bare hands if he wanted to you, although you realise that's not that great of a feat considering your small stature

he would also tower over your human form, but then again, that's not much of an achievment

still, it makes you take a small step back

humans have unquestioned power over hybrids - you're pretty sure if he killed you right here and now, no one would know or care

and if someone did know, the case would be as likely to make it to court as you are likely to become a billionare next week

your hackles begin to rise, and you mentally run through your escape options

unfortunately, none avoid you shifting into your naked human form, even if it's just for a few seconds

you're beginning to panic

a lot

but then, he crouches down, just like last night

slowly, keeping his movements predictable, he reaches his hand out towards you

'i won't hurt you,'

you relax just a tiny bit, ears twitching, waiting to see what he'll say next

'promise.'

of their own accord, your hackles lower, and you find yourself inching towards his outstretched hand

'you don't have to leave, you know. it would be nice to have some company. plus, i don't want to make assumptions, but i'd rather not let you go if you have nowhere else to stay.'

part of your brain wonders why he's being so nice

the other part, the part that you've shoved down for so long, surfaces like a long lost ache, reminding you how lonely you are, reminding you how much you miss simple human interaction

dipping your head forward, you sniff at his broad palm, before lightly licking his fingertips

he chuckles, albeit a little nervously, as if he's scared you're going to bolt at any second (to be fair, if you were him, you wouldn't write off that option either)

his other hand comes up to rub behind your ears, and your eyes close at the feeling

the beginnings of a purr start to form in your chest, and you know that's when your fate is sealed

the permanence of that thought unsettles you

pulling away, you head towards the radiator, settling close to it, glad that your cat form means that you don't have to talk to him

he grins brightly at you, picking up the plate you left on the counter and putting it in the microwave for warming up

'thanks for the dinner, but you know you don't owe me anything, right?'

you blink up at him from your spot on the floor

he's literally the kindest human you've ever met

then again, you haven't met very many kind humans

that night you sleep curled up on the sofa - it's much more comfortable than wedged underneath a bed, and his cushions smell nice

in the morning, you hear dk get up, but he tip toes around quietly

cracking an eye open, you yawn, eyes blinking into focus as you watch him quickly scribble on the whiteboard, his brow furrowed in concentration

he glances your way, and for some reason, it shoots a bolt of panic through you, and you duck your head back down, closing your eyes

it's not that he's threatening - quite the opposite

it's just that you're not used to this; not used to being in such close proximity with another being for prolonged periods of time, not used to interaction with humans after avoiding them for your own sake for so long

you hear some shuffling, the sound of the fridge door, and then his footsteps approach

as he walks past, he brushes a hand lightly down the soft fur of your back, as if in greeting

you almost twitch at the feeling

you wonder how long it's been since you've let anyone come that close

not daring to move a hair, you wait until you hear him ease the front door shut

the second he's gone, you jump up, eager to see what he wrote on the whiteboard

it's on the counter, so you shift into your human form and put on some clothes - you're not sure what his rules about paws on tables are

there's a fresh t-shirt on the guest room bed, but you opt to wear the one you wore yesterday

a smile plays on your lips as you read what he wrote

it's a short but sweet message extolling the virtues of your cooking and telling you to help yourself to the fridge again, followed by a question asking if what food you would like and whether you prefer cat food

still grinning, you write your reply, explaining how you can eat both human and cat food and how you love tuna in either form, adding a short shopping list of ingredients and asking how his day was

once you're done, you decide to explore his flat properly

it consists of two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a tiny room with a washing machine and various bits and bobs crammed inside, and the kitchen which sort of melds with the living room (if you could call the couch and TV in one corner a living room)

you spend most of your time snooping around his bedroom, just to sate your curiosity

it's not neat, but it's not messy either, and the smell of him is strongest in there

you're sure his desk should be buckling under the combined weight of his pc and the impressive amount of paraphanalia that's collected upon it

it's not that it's dirty - it's actually pretty orderly, there's just... a lot of stuff

there's a mug full of pens which says 'dude kisser' on it (you're not going to question that one), a haphazard stack of books - the top one of which has a fuzzy bookmark sticking out, a pile of mismatching keycaps, a group photo of dk and twelve other guys with moustaches and other flattering things lovingly drawn on, and tons more stuff you couldn't explain even if you tried

the chair has a lot of clothes draped over it: nice, comfy clothes, like the ones he's lended you

you're tempted to explore further into his room, but you feel kind of rude so you scuttle back to the kitchen/living room to make the happy discovery that he owns a nintendo switch

that means he probably has some more complicated games lurking around but you're happy to settle with mario kart for now

it's not something you've played before, although you've heard some of your human ex-colleagues talking about it

by the time dk returns, though, you're a pro

well, maybe not a pro, but not inept, either

by then you've made dinner and left it out for him like yesterday - you feel kind of weird doing nothing but playing video games while he goes to work, and at least cooking for him makes you feel a little useful and not like some awful parasite taking advantage of him

he tells you about his day as he eats at the dinner table while you sit in cat form on the chair next to him

he smiles the whole time, and you find yourself relaxed and content, infected by his happy virus

once he's done with his debrief, he unthinkingly asks how your day was

you look at him and give him your best deadpan meow

he laughs and you find it a bit dazzling - he hands away smiles as if they're free, and honestly it kind of restores your faith in humanity

'what if you blink twice for yes and once for no? how about that?'

you blink twice at him

dk grins, his eyes lighting up; he's so excited you can almost imagine him clapping his hands and kicking his legs like an enthusiastic little kid

'do you like pineapple on pizza? is it wrong to wear socks and sandals? how about socks in bed? are tomatoes a fruit? is it right to have toilet paper over? or do you like it under?'

he bombards you with random yes or no questions, each one getting weirder than the last, but you find his delight in your answers is more than enough to let him continue

after about half an hour, he either runs out of questions or decides to spare you, asking instead whether you want to watch a movie

that's how you end up curled up on the sofa beside him

he'd insisted on a horror movie, even though you'd said no, very clearly blinking only once

you would leave but you think it's kind of entertaining how bad the makeup and plot are and how violent his reactions are (they consist of a lot of flailing and terrified squeaks)

despite your reluctance to watch a horror movie, he's actually more scared than you are

the poor thing is tense as anything, his mouth hanging half open as he stares wide eyed at the tv, transfixed

you're actually too busy watching him that when the jump scare pops up on screen, you jump about a foot high, landing hissing on his lap with your tail all fluffed up

your claws accidentally come out and prick him through his jeans and he yelps

'ouch - shit - ow - '

you hop off his lap and watch him dramatically curse and pretend to be wounded, both of you distracted from the movie now

eventually he calms down and goes back to watching, but not before he picks you up and plops you back on his lap, one hand anxiously smoothing down your back as you both wait for the next jump scare

after a while he goes so far as to pick you up and hold you to his chest, hiding his face in your fur every time the music warningly crescendos, whispering to you how utterly terrified he is

even still, his grip stays loose enough for you to move away at any time if you want

you'd think that after your previous experiences with humans, you'd hate him anywhere near you, but you don't

you don't mind it at all

it's kind of ridiculous actually, the way you feel safer than you have in months when he clutches you to him while watching a literal horror movie

you don't think much of it though

he's just a guy who's letting you stay for a bit

you don't plan to stick around

a week later, you find yourself writing an apology on the whiteboard that you'd been putting off since watching the movie

dk is welcoming and warm and friendly but you're sure he must be wondering why you haven't shifted into your human form yet

sometimes, you wonder that yourself - there's something in his eyes that instantly puts you at ease

the day before yesterday, you'd planned it, changing into your clothes - his clothes, and sitting on the sofa, ready to greet him, but the moment you heard his footsteps up to the front door, you just couldn't

your cat form still feels so much safer, even though you have nothing to fear

well, apart from all the explaining you'd have to do once you shift into a form with a tongue that can talk

you don't want to see the pity that would spring into his eyes, or worse, disgust

you're scared of the change it will bring

you're scared to let your walls down

you're scared to bare the soft, vulnerable part of your heart

clenching your teeth, you force yourself to relax, the marker in your hand shaking from how hard your fingers had been clenching around it

you lean against the counter for a while, writing messages then rubbing them out, needing to tell him why but also terrified of what he'll say

solitude has been your only companion for so long, you find that you don't have the words to express what you feel

you don't know how to tell him how you hadn't realised how lonely you were until he let you in

you don't know how to articulate the warm feeling inside you when he smiles at you, as if he doesn't care whether you're a human or a hybrid - because he doesn't

you don't know how to say how eternally grateful you are to him for finding something soft and gentle and innocent within you that you thought you lost years ago

in the end, you decide to keep it short, an apology that feels more like an excuse, but it's the best you can give him

sure, you don't plan to stay here with him forever, but you owe it to him anyway

your restless for the remainder of the day, pacing around the flat and the garden for a little too, tail lashing agitatedly

you've almost convinced yourself to go and rub out your message completely when you hear the front door open and dk comes in, calling out that he's home

peeking around the corner, you see him down the hallway but he doesn't spot you

he's got a strange look on his face, one you can't decipher yet, and there's a flowery scent on him that you've smelled only one time before

you wait just out of sight, not wanting to see his face as he reads

slowly, you venture out, feeling far more nervous than you should be

he sits down on the floor opposite you as soon as he spots you, signalling for you to do the same by patting the spot in front of him

you sink down on your haunches and curl your tail over your feet, nerves a tight ball in your chest

'you don't have to shift if you don't want to.'

the words immediately give you space to breathe, and you feel kind of silly for being so worked up about it all day

'i know hybrids aren't treated well at all, and i'm okay with whatever form you feel most comfortable in, you know? you can shift when you're ready, and whether that's tomorrow or in a decade or never, that's fine. you don't owe me anything.'

your chest feels tight at the earnesty of his words, and you know that if you were in your human form right now, tears would be welling up in your eyes

getting up, you close the gap between the two of you and rest your shoulder against his knee, needing to show your gratitude, needing to be closer to him

he rests his wide palm on your back, a silent assurance

'it's nice to have you here. i used to share with a bunch of my friends - the ones coming over tonight that i told you about this morning, actually - and sometimes it gets lonely in a flat all by myself. i like talking with you.'

you meow, nuzzling against his other hand as he lifts it to stroke the silky spot between your ears

it's amazing, how simple his words are but how he can use them so well, articulating how he feels so boldly

he smiles down at you and you look back up at him, leaning against his hand before he gets up, groaning and cracking his back

his friends will be here soon

he'd warned you this morning, informing you they were noisy but harmless and that if you didn't want to see them, you could hole up in the guest room

they're the first people he's had over since your first night in his flat, and you feel kind of nervous about so many humans, but dk will be there, and you're determined to at least attempt to meet them

anyways, if they're all anywhere close to him, you'll have no problems

still, you stay in the guest room, ears twitching with each arrival

they laugh and chat, their voices carrying through the flat as they jokingly rib each other

occasionally, they have a little karaoke break where they all stop talking to sing along to the song playing on dk's speaker

then there'll be peals of laughter that follow, usually after an exaggerated falsetto note or a scuffling noise which you assume is dancing

it's after their laughter dies down a little when you finally whip up the courage to approach

poking your head into the kitchen, you peer in

there's twelve of them, not including dk, all sitting around the dining table, an array of soju bottles and mainly empty takeaway boxes arranged around them

you're pretty sure they're the same group that you saw the first time you found yourself in dk's garden

one of them spots you in the doorway, and he grins, leaning with his elbows on his knees and opening his palms to you

cautiously, you trot over to him, and he scoops you up, tickling your chin

one of dk's friends across the table gapes at you - he's a bit more drunk than the others (or he holds his liquor less well), and the guy you're sitting on chuckles at his expression

'dk, you got a cat?'

that's the drunk one speaking, his speech a little slurred as his eyes well up with tears

he's a sad drunk, it seems

'dk, you're a dad - '

dk scratches the back of his neck, watching his friend sniffle

'well, hoshi, not a dad, but - '

the guy still holding you adjusts you in his grasp, letting you catch the thoughtful frown on his face

'why didn't you tell us? i thought you were al - '

he's cut off by a sassy looking guy

'jun, just because you want to have a baby shower for a cat doesn't mean all the rest of us do.'

this causes absolute chaos, and the one holding you - jun - lets you down on the floor so he can stand up in order to argue with the sassy guy about the benefits of cat baby shower

navigating your way through the mess of legs under the table, you make your way over to dk

he grins and rubs the spot behind your ears, and you lick his palm before someone grabs you around the middle and cuddles you

you hear dk telling the boys to be careful and it warms your heart a little that he's still looking out for you

he doesn't need to be worried, though

dk's friends are as sweet as he is

you sit with the boys for the rest of the evening

they all leave eventually, trickling out in ones and twos

the last one left is the one they call cheol - he seems to be the protector of the group, and he makes sure dk is alright and helps him clear up a little before he leaves too

once he's out of the door, dk crouches down in front of you

'you okay?'

you blink twice and he grins

'they can be pretty overwhelming and noisy at first, but they're my best friends.'

there's pride shining in his eyes, and you can't help but agree with him - despite their banter, you could tell that they care so much for each other, and for him

'i didn't know whether you wanted them to know you were a hybrid or not, i hope you don't mind that,'

you blink twice again, meowing and padding forward to rub against his shins

you're not quite sure what makes you do that, what primal part of you tells you to put your scent on him, but he chuckles, smile as bright as the sun as always

he scratches at the spot behind your ear and you purr, leaning your head into his touch

'oh - '

you look up, the wonder on his face making it seem like he just made you sprout wings and flash neon

it's cute that he's so proud that he's made you purr

it's been a few months since you first started staying with dk, long enough for the two of you to have a little routine

you cook and clean and generally try to make yourself as helpful as you can around his house while he's at work

he'll write a message for you on the whiteboard every morning, and you'll write your reply during the day

you always come out to greet him at the front door, no matter what

then he'll eat the dinner you made and answer your whiteboard message

from then on, you'll watch a movie with him or just chat

your communication has become easier - sometimes, he'll get his laptop out and you'll type what you're saying, but recently he's gotten scarily good at reading your body language

and no, you still have not worked up the courage to shift into human form yet

you're studiously ignoring the fact that the longer you leave it, the harder it gets

you're also ignoring your previously stated intentions of not staying

you know that this can't go on forever, and even if dk can understand you to an extent, that's not enough and you cost him extra water bills and food

you know he's too kind to bring it up but it eats away at you inside

you're happy to remain blind to the fact that you can't have a proper conversation with him until you shift into human form for now

you tell yourself that you'll deal with it later, whenever later is

another thing that you refuse to acknowledge is your feelings

your fear that you won't be good enough if or when you show him your human form, your fear that you're a dead weight, and worst of all, the growing realisation that he's stupidly fucking handsome

you'd realised but you hadn't realised until one day, after he got back from the gym

his skin had been covered in a light sheen of sweat, and he told you he was going to shower before eating

you'd kind of just blinked at him, too entranced by the amount of skin his tank top was showing

like, what does this guy not have?

he took a little longer than normal in the shower - you heard him absolutely belting out the lyrics to some ballad you'd never heard before, so you trotted down the hallway to listen more closely

and then the door to the bathroom popped open, along with a billow of steam and a delicious lee dokyeom

there was a towel around his hips, low enough to make your stomach twist, and the water rolled down the planes of his chest in a way that made you want to shift into your human form right then and there, just to wrestle that towel off him and kiss him until you ran out of breath

instead, you yowled and jumped about a foot in the air

he just laughed, running a hand through his wet hair to push it out of his eyes before crouching down, telling you he didn't mean to scare you

you meowed and kept your eyes on his face, not on the gap that had opened in the towel due to his bent knees, and definitely not on the wonderful sliver of tanned thigh that showed

the image of dk, damp and glorious under the tinny light of his bathroom, cloaked in steam, often circles around your mind to this day

and it's not just that either - he's also funny and kind and sweet and you feel yourself drowning in his eyes when you look at him too long

just as a reminder: cats do not like water

let alone drowning

the sound of footsteps on the pavement outside dk's front door shake you from your thoughts

there's clearly two people, and you hear dk's voice as the key scrapes in the lock

he's speaking in a tone you've never heard before, low and emotionally charged, like he's angry

you peek into the hallway as the front door opens

dk steps in, followed by a girl you've never seen before, but her scent matches that flowery scent you've smelt on dk a few times before

something sinks inside you

you didn't think he had a girlfriend, which now, in hindsight, seems like a really, really stupid assumption

he's handsome and kind and considerate with a smile brighter than the sun

but then you notice something else - the obvious frown on dk's face

there's a sort of tension in the air, crackling and heavy, like a storm's brewing and there are dark clouds swarming above

she ignores it, instead spotting you and immediately crouching and patting her thighs to try and entice you over as dk shucks off his shoes, face like thunder

she says something to him in an airy voice about him not telling her he had a cat

he shrugs, not mentioning that you're a hybrid and staying silent, which kind of alarms you, because the dk you know is friendly, warm - even when he's angry, it's always firey, nothing like the frigid detachedness in his eyes right now

cautiously, you approach, not really sure what to expect - you're sure she's his girlfriend; now you think about it, you did hear dk's friends discuss it briefly, you just didn't understand at the time

she reaches out to stroke your back, but it brings the cuff of her oversized leather coat near your face

you get a smothering whiff of heavy, masculine cologne that you know is not hers and is definitely not dk's

there's no hint of aftershave, no smell of fresh laundry, and not even a trace of that scent on him that makes you feel warm and comfy

and if this isn't her coat, and it's not dk's, then who's is it?

cheater

hissing, you recoil, your hackles up as you swipe at her hand with your claws out before she can lay a finger on you

you're kind of taken aback by the violence of your own reaction - the tension in the air must be getting to you, too

'oh. it doesn't like me much, you're sure it's not one of those hybrids, right?'

dk's frown deepens into a scowl you've never even seen a hint of on his face, his eyes flashing, filled with something absolutely livid

'let's talk in the kitchen.'

he doesn't even look at her when he says it, and as he turns to go, you can see how hard he's clenching his jaw

you head to the guest room to give them privacy while dk's girlfriend slinks after him

even across the apartment, you can hear too well

it's partly your enhanced cat hearing and partly that new timbre in dk's voice - he's not yelling, nowhere close, but his words carry through the walls

it's the angriest you've ever heard him

you've seen him angry before; frustrated, annoyed, down right incensed, but it always passes quickly, the sun breaking through the clouds with ease - dk doesn't hold grudges

you catch 'cheating' from his sentence, and then suddenly, his girlfriend raises her voice, like she's the one who should be angry, screaming that she doesn't get why he's so worked up over this

that's the exact moment where you want to march into the kitchen and fucking injure her, somehow

punching her in human form would be preferable but you'd be down to claw her eyes out in cat form too

who is she, to cheat on dk, the kindest man alive, then tell him it's nothing? tell him she doesn't know why he's worried?

she doesn't know what she's taking for granted, and she's a fool for that

plus, from what you can hear, he's being half as angry as he really deserves to be, anyway

you sit there in a tense, seething ball of rage, protective and furious on dk's behalf until he puts his foot down

his voice is quieter, more subdued, but he's moved to the kitchen door and you hear him clearly

'get out.'

mentally, you pump your fist in triumph - he should have kicked her out the moment she had the audacity to tell him he shouldn't be getting so worked up about her cheating

in fact, he should have never have let her in in the first place

you hear her screech something over her shoulder about breaking up, as if that wasn't already obvious

honestly, you're kind of embarrassed on her behalf

she should be winning awards for how far her head is up her own ass

dk shuts the door behind her

he doesn't even slam it, just eases it closed like he always does and plods to his room

you hear the rustle of the blankets as he slumps down on the bed, hear the shaky sigh he lets out, and then the heavy silence

you get up and go to his room - the door is ajar, so you peek in

you don't go in; he has every reason to want to be alone, so you hover in the doorway

he lifts his head up and gives you a valiant smile

he looks exhausted

you hop up onto the bed and wait, not wanting to crowd him if he doesn't want contact, but he picks you up and sets you on his chest

you can tell he's fighting with his words as he formulates something to say to you

he stares up at the ceiling, avoiding your eyes until he covers his own with his arm, hiding the upper half of his face in the crook of his elbow

'i found out she was cheating this morning, but i'd suspected it for a while before. i wanted to talk it through with her, give her a chance, you know?'

he squirms and you realise your claws are coming out and poking his chest so you withdraw them and attempt to relax

'she told me i was overreacting, and... yeah. i guess i should have listened to my mum. she's always right.'

he laughs, but it's a loose, raw sound that echoes weakly around the room, and he still won't look at you or uncover his eyes

there's a moment of silence, thick and suffocating with heartache

a sob wrenches from his chest

it's a sharp, painful sound, like he's been holding it in for hours

the floodgates open

dk covers his face with trembling hands, tears leaking out from under his palms

you never thought seeing someone else cry would hurt this much

nudging his hand with your nose, you let him hold you close, rubbing your cheek against his and gently lapping the tears off his face, even as they soak your fur

you feel helpless, like the pieces of his heart are in your hands and you don't know how to fit them back together

he just clings to you, eyes tight shut as his sobs begin to subside

you stay there with him, wishing you could do more as he hides his face in your fur and hugs you close to him

you don't know what that girl was thinking when she decided to cheat on dk

actually, she probably wasn't thinking at all

you kind of want to tell him he's too kind and trusting for his own good, but you know that even if dk was capable of not being like that, he would choose to be the way he is

his hand strokes down your back, and you watch him from where you rest your head on his collarbone

he's staring at the ceiling, and although his eyes are red and a bit puffy and he's sniffling, his crying has subsided a little

dk props himself up on his elbows and gives you a sad smile

'sorry about that. and thanks, too, i - i needed that.'

you huff, tail flicking and smacking against his abdomen - as if he needs to be sorry

nuzzling into the hand he brings up to rub your head, you lick his palm, nudging it with your nose

then you hop off the bed and wait for him to follow you into the kitchen so he eats his dinner

you don't take your eyes off him, not even when he goes to sleep

you curl up in the corner, happy to sleep on the carpet, but he pats the mattress next to him and you can't refuse

it's nice, to sleep beside dk, his body warm and near as he reaches across the bed to run his hand down the fur of your spine and beckon you closer

over the next months, you watch dk heal

you help him heal, too

at least, you hope you do

you make sure to stick close to him

you've slept curled up at the foot of his bed every night since the day of the break up

he calls his mum the day after, and a few of his friends too

he stays strong and determinedly brave in front of the boys, not shedding a tear, but he cries on the phone to his mum

he also cries over a few emotionally fraught kdramas during the first week before you sit on the remote and refuse to move until he chooses another genre

truth be told, you were getting kind of sick of the same plot with different characters, and the pile of tissues on the coffee table in front of the sofa was growing frighteningly large

exactly a month has passed since the break up when, over his dinner, dk announces to you that he's finally installing cat flaps for you

he also mentions that he wants to introduce you to his friends properly, as who you are

the latter comment kind of makes you nervous

his friends are some of the most welcoming, commendable men you've ever interacted with, but a niggling part of your brain wonders if they'll be more sceptical than dk

what if they tell him you're taking advantage of him?

or that you're just a hybrid and don't deserve the kindness he's giving you?

because after all these months with dk, you realised you're not just staying for the roof over your head or the warm meals

you're staying because of dk

you care about him

a lot

not just because you're sort of a little bit hopelessly in love with him, but also because he's kind of... your best friend

he's so sweet and silly and and considerate and funny it makes you want to punch a wall sometimes

you'd protect him with your life

you don't really know how to say it to him, though

there's nothing more you can do in the house, and the words don't seem right on the whiteboard

you wait out the hours until he gets back from work, doing chores around the house or out exploring the neighbourhood through the newly installed cat flap in the back door

or singing in the shower, like you are now

dk's bathroom has very good acoustics

it means you can belt your heart out, happily knowing that dk won't be home for another few hours

you're singing one of the songs dk's friends had been singing the other night

it's kind of sad but also kind of a hoe anthem and the chorus has something about not understanding something - you don't remember the rest of the lyrics

it has a good tune, though, and your own singing combined with the splashing of the shower seals you off from the outside world

which means that when dk gets home early, you don't hear

originally, the only explanation for a female voice coming from his bathroom that he can think of is his ex, but that's dumb because she never had a key in the first place

also, her voice can't even compare to yours

because it is you, he realises

it's you in the shower right now, oblivious to the fact he's home early and is hearing your voice for the first time ever

a little bolt of nervous energy shoots through him, and he panics

what's he supposed to do? should he shout that he's home?

he decides he doesn't want to scare you just in case you panic, so he approaches slowly, hoping to knock on the door and let you know

he soaks up the sound of your voice, a smile playing on his lips, because of course you sound amazing

he's about to knock on the door when the handle turns

wait is all he gets out before suddenly, there you are, right in front of him, wrapped in a towel, cat ears peaking out from your hair that's dripping onto the tiled floor

his brain freezes

shit, you're pretty

you gape at dk

you didn't even hear him come in, let alone him walking down the hallway

this is probably karma from that one time you saw him fresh out of the shower

you'd known that it was inevitable for him to see you in human form at some point, whether it was intentional or not

you just didn't expect it to be so soon, and definitely not like this

oh no

he didn't hear your singing, did he?

instinctively, your hand comes up to make sure the towel around your chest is secure

you're seconds away from shifting and running, but you're rooted to the spot, paralysed by his eyes on you

he blinks a little, as if he's coming to his senses

'...hey,'

that's all he says, his voice soft and wondrous, his eyes sparkling the way they always do, sweet and inviting as the smile pulling at his lips

'hi,'

unfortunately for you, it comes out half strangled and breathy, but a grin immediately appears on his face, his eyes scrunching with happiness

he hasn't looked away once, gaze roving over your face as if he's committing you to memory, and you feel a hot blush begin to creep over you

'i, uh, let me go change.'

you scurry back into the bathroom, almost tripping over the bathmat as you shuck on a shirt and trousers, small tremors going through your hands

you tell yourself it's fine

because it is fine - you're not scared of dk, you trust him, it' just... you should have shifted for him ages ago

placing your hand on the door handle, you take a deep breath

turning back to the mirror, you hastily fix your hair before biting the bullet and opening the door

dk waits outside, leaning against the wall, still smiling

when you peek out, half hiding behind the door, his grin widens, and he opens his arms

you barely need to think, your body just moves, and then he's got you tight in his embrace, your nose pressed into his chest: just like that, any semblance of unease or self consciousness you were feeling evaporates like the space between you

slowly, you breathe in, then out

he smells like he always does - laundry, aftershave, and the scent that you've begun to associate with home

you sigh, resting your forehead on his chest so you don't have to look at him when you speak

'well, that wasn't so hard for me, was it?'

he laughs, eyes dancing, and with that, everything is back to normal

it doesn't matter which form you're in, it's still dk, and it's still you

you talk to him for ages - first over dinner, and then the two of you move to the couch, losing track of time as you fill him in, answering every question he fires your way

his sincerity makes your heart flutter: he clings onto your every word as if it's precious

in the end, you wind up telling him how you got to the situation you were in before

you lay yourself bare, letting your walls down for him to see the scars on your soul

you're not sure when the tears pricking at your eyes spill over, but dk wipes them away gently, spreading his arms for the second time tonight, letting you soak the front of his hoodie with your tears

he tucks your head against his shoulder, his hand rubbing up and down your back the way he always does

his heartbeat is comforting under your ear

you fall asleep like that, held safely in dk's embrace

things continue as normal, even with your human form revealed

you realise how stupid you were for worrying so much about things changing when you shifted into your human form

you talked to dk about how you feel like a burden, how although he doesn't mind, you don't like relying on him to pay the bills, and how you want to get a job

he reassured you that it was fine but after seeing the look of determination on your face, he realised there was no point in opposing you

so he pulls some strings (more like cheol pulls some strings) to get you a part time job in the local library

it's just three days a week, but the important thing is that you get paid and treated the same as any human would

your boss is a little old lady with very thick reading glasses

she bakes you cakes sometimes, and once she's fed you a slice or two, she forces you to take the rest home

it's not anything like your old job, but neither would you want it to be

it doesn't pay your bills either, but it's a happy compromise

dk claims that coming home every day to a meal that you cooked is worth the money of those bills a hundred times over, anyway

you also officially meet his friends

they're sweet, a bit noisy and chaotic at first, but they make sure to keep you included in the conversation despite all the private jokes that they seem to have

they act a bit like a huge family unit (they bicker like brothers)

despite their closeness with each other, it doesn't push you away

they didn't even care that you were a hybrid

you caught a knowing look pass between the one called joshua and the one called jeonghan when dk introduced you, but you're not really sure what it could have been about

you were probably just imagining it, to be honest

anyways, aside from occasionally attending their boys nights (on demand, they always clamour for you to join them), the little routine you and dk made is still very much the same

you still cook for him, except now you wait and eat dinner with him

there's never a dull moment with dk, and he makes you laugh until you can't breathe

he's made it his personal goal over dinner to make you laugh so hard you snort food up your nose again

you talk about everything and anything to him

he'll tell you about a funny thing at work and you'll tell him about a customer at the library and somehow that will bring you to a debate on hogwarts houses

today he sits across from you, the food on his plate already all long gone and eaten while you're just finishing up with yours

'you know, i'm allergic to cats.'

you gape

because he's what now?

'you're what now?'

'well, not to you, i guess. maybe you're hypoallergenic?'

now you think of it, you do remember one of his friends almost saying something about that the first time you ever saw them

it might have been jun, you can't quite remember

'you know, when you first sat next to me on the sofa, i was panicking because i didn't know what to do with cats.'

you snort

you address him as you get up, dumping your plate in the sink before proceeding to dive onto the sofa

'you didn't know what to do with cats? you just stroke us, dk.'

he follows suit, and you're propelled upwards due to the force that he lands on the sofa cushions with

'yeah, but it's different from how you stroke dogs. it doesn't matter, anyways, because i still got you to purr.'

he crosses his arms and smiles smugly

you throw back your head and laugh, realising why he looked so proud when he found the spot behind your ear

actually, you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, and it's only egged on by the small indignant noise that leaves him at your reaction

eventually, you need to catch your breath, and as you wipe the tears from your eyes, you glance over at dk

your heart lurches

he's staring

there's this look on his face, in his eyes, that burns

his lips are slightly parted, and suddenly the air between the two of you is charged in a way that makes your heartbeat pound loud in your ears

his gaze flicks down from your eyes, down to your mouth, then back up, and all of a sudden, you can't breathe

you can't even think as he leans closer, his breath ghosting over your lips

your head spins, fear and elation fighting for control

is he... is he going to kiss you?

his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his slender fingers warm and so undoubtedly right

like it's meant to be

'can i kiss you?'

his words come out so softly that you could almost believe you imagined them, if not for that look in his eyes

it's deep and immense, full of want, full of longing

it sweeps you up in its arms, promising you the love you only dare to dream of

it's beautiful

it's everything

also, it's fucking terrifying

panic grips your swelling heart and crushes it

he can't want you, he shouldn't - you're a hybrid, he's a human, it will never work, you'll just get hurt when he realises you're not good enough, when he realises how much harder it is to be associated with your kind, you can't disappoint him -

leaping off the sofa, you shift into cat form and sprint for the back door

you shoot right through the cat flap and run, legging it to the end of the garden and launching yourself over the fence

despite your speed, you still spare dk a backward glance

he sits, frozen on the sofa, his head turned towards you, eyes wide and bewildered

they're brimming with regret and what you'd like to imagine is sorrow

you never thought the ache of yearning in your chest would be returned, so you let it carve out a space for him in your heart

you didn't think he'd try to fill it, you didn't think he'd be dumb enough to want a hybrid like you

that night, you try to leave

you try to walk down the road, away from dk's house, away from dk and his comforting scent and warm hands

you can't

your soul seems tethered to his, and you can't bring yourself to cut the strings

you spend the night sitting in the garden next to his, tail curled around your paws, bathed in the glow of his kitchen lights that don't turn off until around three am in the morning

you shiver in the dark, fighting with yourself until you decide to go back, to talk it out with him because that's what he deserves

you hate to slink back to him after being such a coward, but you need him to know that you do want him, that if you were a human, if you were good enough for him, you would have kissed him in a heartbeat

quietly, you slip through the cat flap make your way into the guest room

it's changed so much since the first night you spent in it - dk moved most of the boxes out of it, making it your room, even though you sleep in his most of the time

there's a selfie of you and dk, wrapped up in blankets for movie night, and a group photo of you and the boys halfway through the most chaotic game of cards you've ever participated in

you're determined not to lose this, lose them

you're determined not to fuck this up more than you already have

quickly, you shift and change into your clothes, just to stand in the middle of the room, not entirely sure what to do with yourself

you remain there, silently fretting, until there's a soft tap on the door

your breath catches in your throat but you manage to wheeze out a somewhat convincing 'come in'

dk peeks in and leaves the door open - you're aware that he's left it that way to give you a clear escape route

he chews on his lip, running a hand through his hair, and you notice that he looks tired, as if he hasn't slept all night

'i heard you come in, and i just wanted to say that i... i'm sorry. i didn't mean to overstep the boundaries. i just - you're... i'm sorry i messed up. asking to, um, you know, wasn't a good idea on my part, i don't - i didn't know what i was doing, i kind of just...'

he sighs, looking at you sheepishly once he realises he was rambling

'please don't go?'

that's the moment you give in

you let go of it, of everything, and let yourself fly into freefall

stepping forward, you hook an arm around his neck, sinking your other hand into his hair, bringing his face down to yours to fit your lips to his

he makes a soft, awed noise, his fingers curling around your waist to press you closer to him

he tastes divine, like heaven, like the best kind of destiny

the feel of his lips against yours becomes everything you'll ever need

hesitantly, you begin to pull away, words already forming on your tongue, but then he darts forward to steal another sweet, sweet kiss from you, and then you're drowning in him again

he tangles his hands in your hair, his fingertips brushing over your ears, tracing their shape as if to show you that he doesn't care what you are

when he eventually breaks the kiss off, he presses a finger to your lips before you can draw a breath

'don't tell me i don't know what i'm getting into. i thought i lost you, i thought you were leaving, and i couldn't... please, just let me love you.'

he immediately cringes at his own words, and you let your head fall forward until your forehead rests against his chest, huffing out a laugh

'i'm sorry i freaked out before, i - i got scared. then i didn't know what to do so i just kind of ran. i didn't mean to scare you.'

he pouts cutely, in a way that makes you want to poke his cheeks

'well, you did. i - '

you cut him off with a kiss, just to taste him again if not to shut him up

his hands find your hips, drawing you closer to him

'i think i love you.'

the confession slips out of you, mumbled onto his lips before you can stop it, but all he does is smile into the kiss

'i think i love you too.'

when the boys find out, they tease dk mercilessly while somehow also hyping him up

seungcheol, jeonghan and hoshi all claim to have known about it from the start, although everyone knows hoshi is just saying that

jeonghan purposefully sits next to you just to quietly tell you about how he managed to get dk drunk enough one time for him to confess that he was in love with a cat

dk gets pouty about it later, so you kiss his face all over until he smiles again

in fact, he pretends to sulk a lot to get kisses from you

sometimes, you'll catch him just staring at you with a huge grin on his face

he makes a point to hold your hand in public, telling you that he's proud of having you

his sweet words make it easy for you to brush off the stares of the people on the bus, easy for you to ignore the way they whisper

sometimes dk kisses you and loudly calls you disgustingly sappy pet names in front of them, just out of spite

you realise now that they don't really bother you, not when dk doesn't care about them and not when he loves you the way he does - unconditionally

he shows it in the way he hangs onto your every word, in the way he cooks your favourite dishes for you, in the way he holds you, in the way he kisses you as if you're the most precious thing in the universe

you take every opportunity to show him how much you love him, too

hence why you're up early, cooking breakfast for dk

it's a saturday, and the sun leaking through the curtains woke you, even though it didn't even affect dk - he remained snoring beside you, his legs tangled with yours and his arms locked around your waist

you'd eased your way out of his grip and replaced yourself with a pillow, pressing a light kiss onto his forehead before shifting into your human form and pulling one of his t-shirts over your head

most nights, you sleep in your human form, but he'd been hogging the blankets so you'd shifted into your cat form in a desperate effort to make it easier for you to squirm into his blanket burrito

'what're you smiling about, huh?'

you almost drop the pancake you were transferring to a plate already heaped high and steaming with others

his arms wrap around your waist, and you sigh as he kisses your neck

'actually, i was thinking about how rude it was of you to steal the blankets last night, you sneaky little bastard.'

'hmm, my bad.'

he nips at your neck before his tongue flicks out to brush over the same spot

his hands wrap around your hips, and you sigh noncommittally as he sneaks his fingers under the hem of your - his - t-shirt

'babe, the pancakes will get cold - '

'don't care.'

you don't even try to shake him off as he continues to kiss at your neck from behind, nudging the collar of your shirt to the side so he can suck a hickey onto your shoulder

the air of the kitchen is cold on your bare legs, but he's nice and warm and solid, and you lean back into him, eyes closing as he laves his tongue over your skin

a low purr emnates from deep in your chest, and you feel him pause at your back

'that's never happened before,'

'and?'

'it was kind of hot.'

you huff out a laugh, but it's cut off as he spins you around, gripping your chin so he can kiss you

dk kisses you passionately, like he woke up with the one desire to taste every inch of your mouth, his teeth grazing dizzyingly over your lower lip

he grins against you when you moan at the feel of his tongue against yours

hooking your arms over his shoulders, you draw him closer

picking you up, he deposits you on the island, not breaking the kiss

he slots himself between your legs, his fingers skimming over the tops of your thighs, pushing the hem of your shirt a little higher

hooking an ankle around his hip, you nestle your heel in the small of his back, nudging him closer

something in your stomach pulls wonderfully tight when you feel the grind of his hardening cock against your clothed cunt

he chuckles at the involuntary noise that leaves you, one of his hands coming up to cup your breasts as he leans down, palms dragging down the length of your thighs as he hooks them over his shoulders

he helps you shimmy out of your underwear, chucking them carelessly over his shoulder

and then, just like that, he's got his mouth between your legs, spreading your pussy with his fingers, his eyes disarmingly guileless

his tongue is divinely velvet as he sweeps it through your folds

he tastes you as if your essence is the nectar of the gods, teasing the pleasure out of your body, holding your trembling thighs up with his big hands

as you come, convulsing around his tongue, he looks up at you with stars in his eyes, as if you're a goddess

it's ridiculous, the way he can make your heart flutter while fucking eating you out like a man starved

he straightens, kisses you with honey drenched lips that bear a virtuous smile, and lifts you up in his arms so he can make love to you on the sofa

he makes your eyes roll, makes your toes curl, makes you cry his name, sets you alight with his touch

and when he sends you over the edge, coming with you, when he scoops you up in his arms, sets you on the bathroom sink to clean you up, when he kisses you in the shower, you know one thing

you are willingly trapped in his gravity; you orbit him as if he is the star at the centre of the universe, yet somehow he looks at you with a light in his eyes, like you are the sun, the warmth on his skin, the reason for life

you love this man, irrevocably so, and somehow, miraculously, he loves you back

[princesscolumbia]

Star Trek Captains, A Review and Categorization

Star Trek is a show about a Neo-military organization that has rank structures, ships, and fights wars, so naturally there's plenty of captains to talk about, but for this post I'll be highlighting specifically the main cast captains, in something resembling chronological order. (But, I mean, this is Star Trek, so even that's kinda up in the air)

Captain Archer

That Guy who had to hand crank the warp engine up-hill both ways in the blinding ion storm. We don't need no stinkin' Prime Directive! Remember The Alamo Pearl Harbor 9/11 Florida! But...uh, maybe don't be dicks about it, not everyone who looks like the ones responsible for that thing we're never going to forget actually wants us dead. Got transformed into an alien, got possessed by another alien, slept with a couple more. Never got pregnant, though (that was his chief engineer)

Scorecard

Ships commanded: 1

Wars started: 0

Wars ended: 3

Times on screen naked: 1

Nazi facilities destroyed: 1

Category: Grampa

Captain Pike

Midlife crisis? What midlife crisis? Everything's fiiiiine. Now eat something, it'll make you feel better. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed. Number One, don't tell me I can't adopt more kids, I don't care that they're from the future they're mine now. Besides, we've already got a whole ship-full, what's two more?

Scorecard

Ships commanded: 2

Violations of the Temporal Prime Directive: -3 (yes, it's an irrational number, we're talking time travel, people!)

Musical Numbers Participated While On Duty: 3

Hair: Really Great

Category: Dad (or DILF if you swing that way)

Captain Georgiou

You will be captain when you can snatch the stone from my hand.

Scorecard

Ships commanded: 1

Protege's who required a redemption arc: 1

Awesomeness: Transcendent

Category: Gone too soon, also, MILF who can kick your ass

(Edit: Courtesy of @cheer-me-up-scotty for pointing out an oversite on my part)

Captain Burnham

Cosplays as a Vulcan 'cause she's jealous of her adoptive brother. Accurately called an audience-stand-in-self-insert-mary-sue (shut up, Star Trek fandom invented the Mary Sue, it was a term coined by women fans, so shut up!), but by season 2 she actually gets interesting.

Scorecard

Mommy Issues: Has a subscription

Moms: 4

PTSD inducing life events: Like, all of them

Ships commanded: 3

Mutinies led failed: 1

Category: That One Cousin who married surprisingly well and made something of herself in spite of all expectations

Captain Kirk

Golden retriever energy, would be the Useless Bisexual Himbo if he didn't have so much game. Probably smarter than he lets on. Polyamory King and certified Alien Fucker. Boyfriend is a half-space-elf, main sometimes-girlfriend will go on to create the deadliest super-weapon ever built by humans by accident.

Scorecard

Number of Klingon Bounties on his head: [CLASSIFIED]

Number of women he's slept with: [CLASSIFIED]

Nazi regimes toppled: 1

Number of times he should have had a test that determines if you can stick your dick in it that got named after an upstart from that other science fiction show instead: 1

Ships Commanded: 3

Ships He's Stolen: 3

Category: Slut(affectionate)

Captain Kirk (the other one)

Golden Retriever that got left behind when his family moved away and had to lead a ragtag team of a crotchety older dog and a wet cat on a journey...

No, wait, hold on...

Right! That's the one!

Scorecard

Times he should have been kicked out of Starfleet: At least 4

Ships commanded: 3

Ground transport destroyed: 2 (that we know of)

Number of middle fingers given to Admiralty: 2

Category: Bad Boy

Captain Picard

You know that guy who you see going to the library all the time and always seems to have his nose in a book and always seems to be telling people off for breaking the rules and doing dangerous shit? You'd never know it but he used to be That Guy in college who got, like, ALL the girls and is going to be the Hot Grampa that you don't know how he has that much game, but he got it.

Scorecard

Ships lost in the line of duty: 2

Number of times he married and then estranged his best friend's wife who named their son after her dead first husband: 1

Number of toxic omnipotent and omniscient boyfriends who are obsessed with him and spends their spare time playing with ponies: 1

Category: Inexplicable Sexyman

Captain Badass Sisko

The Cool Dad with baggage. He's got game, but he's got priorities as well, and DON'T mess with his son or you won't even exist anymore to regret it. BLM before it was cool. Led a civil rights riot two centuries before he was born. Space Jesus who can make the best jambalaya you've ever had. Fought and won a war, punched a god, then became one.

Scorecard

Civilizations saved: 4

Native Cultures Treated With the Respect They Deserve: Many

Times He Bent the Rules so his CMO could get some nookie from a Cardasian spy plain, simple tailor: The counter broke

Successful black-ops assassinations completed: 1

Category: BAMF

Captain Janeway

THE single most decorated captain in Starfleet history. Successfully dropped the hammer on dozens of petty tyrants, oppressive regimes, roaming mass murderers, and the Borg. What Prime Directive? Your Mom. Also, probably slept with your mom, that's how much she is the Domme-est of Dommes. She told the Borg to use the safe word...and they DID!

Scorecard

Borg Daughters: 1

Times she told the Borg to step off: 3 (or 4...or 5? Honestly, with the time travel shenanigans it's hard to know for sure)

Nazis she's personally shot: 1

Category: Mistress, but it's "Ma'am" to you

Captain Freeman

She's angry AND disappointed! She's just as good as all the other captains in the fleet, and the good ones know it, but all the rest? They see "cali class" and assume all they're good for is the jobs nobody else wants. But jokes on them, because thanks to that attitude her crew are the flippin' Jacks and Jills of all trades and are more capable of fixing AND fucking AND "fucking" shit up than damn near anyone else!

Scorecard

Times the ship has nearly been destroyed but she and her crew got through it: ...uh...how many episodes are there? And then there's the times that get casual mentions that we never get the details on!

Daughters who should probably be captains now if they were at least a LITTLE more respectful and didn't actively try to piss off Admirals: 1

Times the Cerritos has had to be rebuilt to the point it might as well be called "The Ship of Cerritos Problem": At least 4

Category: Your mom...get back here, I'M NOT DONE TALKING TO YOU!

Captain R'El

Cinnamon Roll, just let m'boy into Starfleet! He just wants a home and a family! I'd like to see full-grown captains who can keep up with half of what this Best Boy is capable of!

Scorecard

Number of species his genetic code is made up of: All of 'em. Even the GODDAMN Q!

Number of Janeways he impressed the socks off of: 2

Quality of his Janeway impression: Bad

Number of Ferengi he out-Ferengi'd: 1

Nazis punched: Give him time...

Category: Teenage Boy Who's NOT GOING THROUGH A PHASE, MOM!

Should I do Captains Shaw and Seven? How about Alternate Timeline Tripp or Future Chakotay? (Going too far down that rabbit hole will eventually lead to Imperial Kirk and Captain Spock from the movies.) Let me know in the comments.

Next Post in this series

[trensu]

ETA: now on ao3 as Hawkins Halfway House for Homeless Horrors

ETA2: now with an additional snippet

okay, how's this for an AU

We know that Steve wants to be a dad. Like, his literal life dream is to have a minimum of six children. SIX. who wants that?? crazy people, that's who. but we forgive him his insanity because he's sweet and will actually probably be a really good dad and there's not enough of those in the world.

the downer is that it's the late 90s, he's a (still) single guy in his thirties, and every adoption agency on the planet would rather give their children to a heteronormative couple who don't even want kids than to a single dude who would dedicate his heart and soul to giving his kids a happy healthy home.

He's bemoaning his fate to Robin at a bar they recently discovered. It's a weird little joint, kinda tucked away on the outskirts where Steve could've sworn didn't exist just last week. The patrons were kinda weird too but neither he or Robin could put their finger on why or how. If Steve had been a little less miserable, and Robin a little less caught up in comforting him, they might've noticed how everyone else in the bar kept sneaking curious glances at them or how they somehow always kept most of their features hidden.

They didn't though. Even when they were interrupted by a handsome black gentleman who called himself Jeff. Jeff said that he couldn't help but overhear their dilemma and that he's actually part of an agency that is more open minded about potential foster or adoptive parents. Steve's a little deeper in his cups than he intended, and doesn't question that some random guy in a bar is offering him a chance of having children. Robin is not as far in her cups and finds it a bit suspicious.

She was going to say something about it but Jeff looked her in the eye and said, "Everything is fine. There's no reason to worry. I'm only trying to help."

"You're only trying to help," Robin murmured back blearily. "Everything is fine. Yeah. Yeah, 'm not worried."

Jeff gives Steve his card and tells him he can stop by the very next day if he'd like, since his schedule is open.

The next day, Steve is regretting having gotten so drunk. Not really because of the hangover (though holy shit, he is NOT twenty anymore he needs to stop drinking like one). No. It's because Jeff had just finished giving him a tour of the facility full of rambunctious children in need of a home.

Actually, that had been pretty okay even if the other adults in the facility startled at the sight of him and the children kept ducking into other rooms to hide from him.

No. It's because Jeff had just introduced him to a child named Dustin who sneezed unexpectedly and somehow turned into a kitten.

"Um," Steve said. Jeff sighed.

"Dustin hasn't gotten back control over his shapeshifting since his mother's passing, but I assure you he's been improving."

"...shapeshifting," Steve said, numbly.

"Yes. Dustin tends to go for cat shapes, like his mother did." Jeff bends down to pick up the loudly mewing tabby kitten. "We've managed to get him to shift mostly into a domestic shorthair, rather than a cougar cub."

"That's great," Steve squeaked as he tried to tamp down the growing hysteria in him. "Really, really great. Y'know what, Jeff, this whole thing's been great but I think I'm still kind of drunk so I'm just gonna go--"

"No, wait," Jeff says, quickly placing the Dustin kitten on his shoulder before reaching out to grab Steve by the elbow. "Please. Look, you seem like a good guy. I did a quick scan of you and everything, and I really think if you'd take a moment to sit down and--"

"JEFFORD BILLANY JONES."

Jeff's shoulders hunched, nearly dislodging Dustin from his shoulder. He sighed again and turned to face the man storming towards him and Steve.

"Eddy, you know none of that is my name."

"I'll call you whatever I want since for some unfathomable reason, you've brought a human into my sanctuary. Why is there a human in my home, Jeffamy."

"Eddy, let me explain."

"It's Eddie in front of the human," Eddie said.

Steve's brain was experiencing some sort of malfunction because Jeff had been calling this man Eddie, except if he concentrated, the way Jeff said Eddie and the way Eddie had said Eddie sounded very very different except it hadn't because they both sounded like Eddie except for how Jeff's Eddie sounded different from, the same as, different, just like--

A pair of ringed fingers snapped aggressively in front of his face, startling Steve from an impending aneurysm.

"You. Who are you, who sent you, what do you want."

Steve stuttered something incoherent. He's pretty sure he's had a mental break from reality. There was some sort of sentient black sludge creeping across the tiled floor, wrapping a tendril around Jeff's leg.

"What is that?" Steve squawked. Jeff beamed at him.

"Oh, this is El! She's a Monster Under the Bed. She hasn't decided on a form yet, but that's okay, we love her just as she is."

"Jeff," Eddie snapped. Jeff looked at Eddie stubbornly.

"You told me we needed all hands on deck."

"How dare you, I'd never stoop to using boat metaphors."

"Don't distract me with blatant lies. Eddy, you said we needed help. You said you'd take anyone at this point."

Steve has not been able to stop staring at the sludge creature (El?). He's beginning to realize that he can't quite remember what Jeff looked like, or any of the adults they had seen. He's noticing that some of the children that have been scampering about had looked off. Like the boy with the bowl-cut they had passed by earlier who had looked...frosty around the edges. Or the girl he thought had had red feathers in her hair but is now suspecting the feathers were something more than decorative.

Ringed fingers snap in front of his face again. Steve finally focused on the man named Eddie who was actually named Eddie which was different from Eddie somehow. Now that he's able to shove away the confusion that is this man's name, he's struck by the fact that Eddie was quite possibly the most gorgeous man Steve's ever seen. He had wide, dark eyes that made Steve think of seabeds in the deepest of waters. His hair was a riot of dark brown curls that for some reason brought to mind swirling schools of fish.

"Answer my questions," Eddie demanded. Steve blinked and, with some difficulty, remembered the previous interrogation.

"Uh, I'm Steve. Jeff invited me because I want to be a dad."

Eddie barked out a laugh.

"Oh, is that right? In that case, welcome to Hawkins' Halfway House for Homeless Horrors! I'm sure Jeff would love to finish introducing you to the rest of our children. Have you met Mike? He's a ghoul! Or Lucas! He's a werewolf and his dream is to become a basketball star. They both have very sharp teeth so watch out for their tantrums."

Jeff scowls at Eddie before turning back to Steve. Steve was starting to feel faint and he was no longer sure if he regretted drinking the night before or regretted not drinking more.

"Steve, it's okay. Eddy is making it sound scarier than it actually is. You said you wanted to be a dad, and we need foster parents that can help these kids learn how to blend in with humans. That's what the halfway house is for, but there's only so much they can learn while living in sanctuary. We need a way to have them experience the human world more directly while still keeping them safe, and I think you're the solution we've been looking for. What do you think?"

"I think I need to sit down," Steve said thinly. Eddie snorted derisively. Steve was slightly offended but honestly everything was a bit too much right now and he really would like to sit down for a moment just to process. Because monsters are real, apparently, and some of them need parents. Which was terrifying to think about but also not so much? Because all kids were little monsters some of the time right? If Steve could have a moment to get his bearings...

"This was a terrible idea, Jeffathan."

"I think it was a great idea, actually. I really think this could work."

"No. I forbid it. Don't do this again."

Then there was a sweet and beautiful humming. It made the edges of Steve's mind go fuzzy and soft. He blinked slowly and looked for the source of the sound. Eddie stared at him intently and when he spoke, his voice was like music.

"Steve," Eddie said. "Steve, do you want to make me happy?"

Steve nodded dumbly. He wanted that more than anything in the whole world. He wanted to make Eddie smile. He wanted Eddie to never stop singing.

"It would make me very happy if you went home and forgot everything you saw here today," Eddie continued.

Steve made a sad sound. He didn't want to forget. He didn't want to forget beautiful, gorgeous Eddie and this place that could make his dream come true.

"Please, Steve," Eddie's lyrical voice took on an aching mournful tone. "If you don't, you'll break my heart. I'll never be happy again."

The sadness in the song made Steve feel like the world was ending. Eddie couldn't be sad! Steve would rather die than make Eddie sad!

"I forget," Steve mumbled through the fog in his mind. "And you'll be happy?"

"So happy. I'd be the happiest man alive if you do that one little thing for me, my sweet Steve."

Steve nods again. "Okay."

"Good boy," Eddie croons. Steve felt like he swallowed the sun at those words. He followed Eddie as Eddie guided him through the halfway house. Eddie hummed his lovely song the entire way.

"Go home and forget," Eddie sang one last time as he helped Steve get behind the wheel of his car.

"Yeah," Steve replied dreamily and drove away.

--

The telephone rang shrilly through his apartment. Steve stumbled out of bed and picked up, only fumbling it a little bit.

"H'llo?"

"Steve, what the hell, I've been trying to get a hold of you all day! Where have you been?" Robin's voice rang out, making Steve flinch. He scrubbed his free hand over his face tiredly.

"Home? I just woke up," Steve said. It was weird that he was fully dressed, he thought dazedly, but it wouldn't be the first time he's passed out drunk in his street clothes. Was he wearing this shirt yesterday? He could've sworn he'd worn the navy one.

"What? Just now? It's like five in the evening!"

"Huh. That'd explain the weird dream," Steve mumbled.

"Was it the one where you get seduced by a giant squid? Because I don't need to know more about your weird tentacle fetish."

"I don't have a tentacle fetish! I had the dream ONE time, and I wasn't being seduced, I was getting drowned and it was terrifying!"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to."

"Whatever, this one was weirder anyway."

"I find that hard to believe but now I'm morbidly curious. Hit me with it."

"...I don't remember."

"There goes my entertainment for the evening."

"Was there a reason you called, Robin?"

"Yes! I met this girl named Chrissy and I swear Steve, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen..."

Beautiful. Steve had the faint impression of dark eyes and silver rings, but it was quickly washed away like a child's sandcastle in the tide under the onslaught of Robin's ramblings. As he listened to his best friend, he couldn't help but feel there was something he'd forgotten. There was something he'd been planning on doing today, wasn't there...?

...oh, well. If it was really important, he'd remember eventually.

[ermegtei]

INTIM4CY !

➵ cyno, wanderer, al haitham

☯ people say first impressions are the most important and they're not exactly wrong...

☯ genshin men + romantic ways you met

☯ i wanted to write for more chars but i have to study </3 no genders specified but fem reader in al haitham's part

★ cYno

♬

you should've expected this. going on dates and being stood up was not a very uncommon thing but you didn't think it would happen so early.

the guy was a charming one. he was flirty and caring. a true gentleman, you thought. but if he really was a gentleman he would be sitting in the empty seat infront of you.

it was embarrassing, the waitress had pity in her eyes and the couples looking at eachother with love in their eyes only added salt to the wound.

but a few tables away from you was a man who was also waiting for his date that was obviously not going to show up.

you had made eye contact with him a while ago and it was humorous how you both were in the same situation at the same time in the same place.

letting out a sigh, you grabbed your purse to leave until the sound of the chair being pulled surprised you. and infront of you was the same guy.

it was awkward to say the least and you both were expecting the other to say something. but he cleared his throat before looking at you with his fierce eyes.

"what kind of guys do you like?" he asked as you bit back a grin.

"i like guys with humour." it wouldn't be so bad to chat a bit with this random stranger since you had cancelled all your plans for this stupid date anyways.

"i like humour too, but i like hu-mour."

the silence was heavy and his straight face only made things worse. he panicked at first, examining your face for any signs that he said something wrong.

but you laughed. loudly. you were sure the entire restaurant was looking at you but at this moment you only wanted to let him know you appreciated him.

this stranger who was going through the same situation that just came up to you to say a joke. it was all hard to believe.

a blush crept up on his face when you looked up at him with a big smile.

he was a charming one.

"well, are you doing anything after this?"

★ wAnderer

♬

to say you loved cats was an underestimation. so when you saw a stray cat in the alleyway next to your apartment, you held back from kidnapping it.

but your landlord didn't allow pets inside so you could only feed the cat at night since that was when she came.

as far as you knew you were the only one feeding her so it was a huge surprise when she started eating less or sometimes not eating at all, only coming over to you to cuddle.

you first thought she was just eating something from the trash or her diet was changing. you swatted away those possibilities when you saw an empty can of tuna next to the garbage can and it wasn't the brand you would buy for her.

then it all made sense.

she was cat-human! and she was buying her own food now.

you felt like a genius.maybe you could catch her in her human form...so here you were, standing behind the wall as you watched her lick her paws, sitting in the box you got for her.

but it was more shocking to see someone coming from the other side and pulling out a can of tuna from their backpack.

the person took their hood off and it was a guy with messy dark hair and-

oh shit. he was looking at you the entire time. and he didn't look very pleased.

"i'm guessing you're the one who has been feeding her secretly." his droopy eyes held a bit of annoyance in them as he ran his fingers thru the cat's fur.

"actually, i have been feeding her first so you mist be the one who has been feeding her secretly." you crossed your arms, huffing.

he rolled his eyes, walking over to you after he opened the can. he stopped next to you, leaning in close to your ear."

she likes me more."

though it was a teasing remark, it sounded like a challenge to you. and his mischievous smile had only confirmed this.

this guy was your rival from the beginning. your cat rival.

★ al hAitham

♬

you were getting more and more angry with the constant stops or the people bumping into you on the bus.

there were no seats available so you had to stand up and held onto the bar ontop of you like your life depends on it.

as you were about to press the button to get off, someone tapped on your shoulder and you turned around to see a tall young man with greyish hair holding a book to his chest.

he pointed towards the seat he was previously sitting on and you couldn't describe how happy you felt. but you kept calm and muttered a thank you before switching places with him so he was standing up next to you.

but a few seconds later he looks at you with a confused face. his eyebrow was raised and his lips parted as if to say something but he shook his head and looked away before getting off soon.

—

it has been 2 hours since that happened and you were laying in your bed, mind still on that guy from the bus.

he was so sweet! and handsome too.

your phone buzzed from a twitter notification and you grabbed it to surf the net a bit before bed.a post with the word on the bus caught your attention. you stopped scrolling and pressed on the tweet. but your eyes widened and you felt angered again.

i saw this pregnant woman on the bus and i offered my seat to her. i looked at her for the last time and found out she in fact, was not pregnant but she was just bloated.

it couldn't have been an coincidence. the post was from 2 hours ago and you went onto the profile and surely enough, it was the same guy.

you groaned, throwing your phone onto the empty space next to you, shoving your face into a pillow and screaming. bloated?

the comments were this blonde guy laughing with LMAOOO and making fun of him. but you fet offended since this tweet was about you so technically he was making fun of you.

you went into the comments and you aggressively typed something.

you're so stupid. she probably wasn't even bloated or anything. think before you post stuff.

pressing enter you proudly put your phone on your bedside table, giggling into your blanket while a confused al haitham was wondering why this random person was so angry at his post. i mean, they couldn't be the same person from the bus, right?

[bonefall]

God I am so tired of Bramble fans who refuse to use critical thinking and believe that brambleclaw and squilf are equally bad. Many also hate on moonkitti's video which they most likely haven't even watched or misconstrued points in it. You can like a character without defending all their actions please I'm begging you

And people will sometimes jump to their defense, saying that people just dogpiled them for liking a character the fandom doesn't like, and while that can happen, sometimes people are actually dogpiling them for ignoring abuse and insulting creators with different opinions

(Some discourse happened on Twitter recently about this but it's something I've seen happen before, I'm not specifically talking about anyone)

I'm going to be honest and drop my feelings.

Never have I ever actually SEEN a Bramblefan "get dogpiled" for liking Bramble.

I come out here on my massive soapbox every couple of weeks and drop whole essays on this guy, I chat casually about how important he is to me as a character, both as someone who was abused in a way similar to Squirrelflight AND as someone who can relate to Bramblestar's situation, and before BB got so large and my attention was easier to divide I even ran an AU called Sweet Nothings which had a "big brother" Bramble take in it.

There is no shortage of Bramblestar-related posts around here, yet, I have never, NEVER gotten shit for when I talk positively about Bramble.

In fact, he's commonly cited as one of the favorite cats to see on this blog from my audience. I get praise for addressing him with nuance, explaining how his actions are abuse while also keeping him human, talking about how his life is a painful cycle of self-doubt that makes him double down on his worst decisions. Every time I post about him, I get an influx of comments centered around how my takes on him are appreciated.

What I DO see is people who make art where they try to bothsides him and Squirrelflight, or say something completely false about his behavior, or straightup post DARVO tactics to defend their fav's honor. When someone makes a comment that goes "uhmm? Bit strange innit?" they call it "harassment." Or when people block them, they call that "receiving hate."

OR when someone makes a vaguepost like "Heyyy, DARVO is an abuse denial tactic where the abuser or their apologists Deny the abuse took place, Attack the accuser, and then Reverse Victim and Offender to claim they were actually the person harmed. Bramblestans are playing this out, step for step, and that's bad!" they call THAT dogpiling.

Meanwhile Moonkitti got death threats and was actually harassed for posting Bramblestar Is Worse. To the point where she is hesitant to ever make another video on the topic.

So y'know what? Hot take? The stans don't actually like Bramblestar. They like the vague idea of a sadboy character who broke free from his dad's legacy so they slurp up the framing of the notorious abuse apologist writers, and they get mad when people who have critically engaged with the books don't see what they desperately crave.

How can you really LIKE a character if you can't engage with their actions? If you need to surround yourself in an unpoppable bubble and can't accept anything he's done in the 20+ years he's been active? How can you truly love a man without all his mistakes?

It's sooo hard to be me, Tumblr User Bonefall, the ONLY one who likes Bramblestar correctly. It's rough out here.

[ivrmmx]

Hybrid! Heeseung

Chapter 1: Adoption

HamsterHybrid! Heeseung 🐹

Summary: A new popular Hybrid store has opened in your town. Your friend convinces you to go and check it out, not knowing you would end up getting a cute companion or maybe even a sex partner.

Warnings: Slight cussing, Smut in next chapter(*wink wink*) , mentions of zoophila (having sex with animals). If I miss any lmk!

Author’s note: this isn’t 100% my original idea, I’ll find the original creator and give credit!

Original Author’s credit: @filmbyjy

4:30pm.

“Come on Y/N, we won’t be able to see them in time!” Whines your friend, Shuhua. “What’s with the rush? It’s not like they will suddenly disappear” You say annoyed. “Oh my god, you just don’t get it, if we aren’t there in time, people will adopt them before us and we won’t have many options left, and I heard that there are many cute guys! ” Shuhua teased while hitting your arm with her elbow. “Alright alright, fine, let’s hurry up then.” You say with a sigh.

4:47pm

You and Shuhua make it to the Hybrid store in time, luckily. “Wait what are hybrids again?” You ask Shuhua. “It’s like a combination between human and animals, crazy right?” Shuhua replied and smirking. “Now hold on, do humans fuck animals do get a hybrid?!” You look at Shuha in confusion and disgust. “No dumbass! Scientist combine human and animal cells together. Gosh girly you’re so dirty.” Shuhua scoff and rolls her eyes playfully.

You and Shuhua go inside the Hybrid store, to your surprise, there’s a bunch of different kinds of hybrids, snakes, birds, rabbit, panda, cat, and much more! “Didn’t you say you wanted a hamster? There isn’t many option left, you should totally get one!” Shuhua says excitedly. “Oh, that’s nice, I’ll check it out. Do you know where they are located?” You turn your head in multiple directions trying to figure out where the enclosure for hamsters are. “Oh yea, look” Shuhua point at a door down a hallway. “It’s the second door to the left! Have fun, love ya!” Shuhua then leaves you for you to go alone to check out the hamsters.

You walk down the hallway and open the door, you see a bunch of girls rounding this one hamster hybrid calling out his name, Heeseung. You approach the enclosure, you widen your eyes to see a handsome guy with small hamster ears and a tail. But he looks scared and shy. While slowly approaching you make eye contact with the Hybrid, your heart starts beating a bit faster, he stares at you as his lips part apart. But you make it to the front of his cage.

“Isn’t he adorable?” One girl says, “Real, he looks so kissable and sleepable with” the other girl says with a smirk. The girls around him seem to want him because of how attractive he is, I mean it’s not like you can’t judge them, he is FINE. You stick your hand out slowly trying not to look like a threat to the poor guy. To your shock, he hesitantly moves closer to you and let’s you pet him, he didn’t let any other girls pet him. You pet his head gently and smile as he look up to you as you pet him, he also smiles at you softly.

The girls around him start crossing their arms and whispering stuff about you. But who cares? “Wanna get adopted, hmm?” You ask the hybrid who is currently rubbing himself against your hand. “Yes please..” the Hybrid says in a soft and quiet voice while nodding. “Alright come on, let’s get you home.” You grab a leash putting it on him as he gets up, damn he’s tall. You take him to the front desk and talk with the lady at the front. “Oh Heeseung,” the elderly lady says. “Aren’t you a lucky girl, Heeseung’s a shy and isn’t very interactive and very picky. But he’s one of the most obedient and kind Hybrids we have” You smile at her as she hands you some papers to sign before adopting him. “Just a couple of warnings sweetie,” the elderly lady turns to you “these kinds of Hybrids can get into a stage that’s called heat, for his kind it isn’t as bad but he can still try to do things so just try to find some ways to relax and calm him down from his heat.” You widen your eyes and blush a bit, you suddenly feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you close as you feel a hard chest against your back, obviously it’s Heeseung. “Looks like he is alright clinging unto you, probably claiming you.” You nod and wave at the lady while leaving the store.

5:13 pm

“Hey Y/N!” You hear from afar, turning around seeing your friend Shuhua waving and running towards you. Heeseung tightens his grip on you (he’s currently holding your hand). “It’s fine Hee, it’s just my friend.” You look at Heeseung then back at your friend and smile at her waving back. “Looks like you ended up adopting one, he’s handsome~” Shuhua teases. “Hey, he’s mine, go find yours!” You pout and pull Heeseung closer by his arm which causes him to blush and hide his face on the crook of your neck. “I’ll be taking him home now Hua, I’ll catch you later, bye bye!” You wave at her as you start walking to your car. She waves back and walks back into the store with her other friends.

5:29pm

You open the door for Heeseung and let him walk inside your apartment. He immediately starts wondering around which you find cute. “You wanna eat Heeseung?” You ask him while putting your stuff down on the counter. “No, I’m not that hungry yet but thanks!” He smiles at you and continues to wonder around. “Also, we will be sharing a bed for quite a while, is that Alright?” You ask him while following him around your apartment. He turn to look at you and blushes, “I-in the same bed?.. I mean I don’t mind” he asks shyly while looking down, his cheeks turn pink. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything that will cause you to be in heat, alright?” He nods quickly. “I-I need to use the bathroom, where is it?” He looks at you. “Oh, it’s over here, follow me” you show him the bathroom and he enters quickly which confuses you. You decide to let him do his own business, but it’s been quite a while now, you go to the bathroom door about to knock but hear light whimpering and moaning sounds. “H-Heeseung.. you good in there?..” you ask with a bit of a shaky voice. Suddenly the noise stops and you hear the door opening with an arm pulling you inside the bathroom.

[wallapology]

Hey guys here’s a handy-dandy list for all of you to experience thoschei throughout the years

Theta and Koschei: toxic childhood gifted kid friends to lovers ez— outspoken extrovert and shy introvert who goes along with it

Adult Theta and Koschei: Newlyweds to Newly-Disastered to Newly divorced

Threegado: Corporate and/or academic frenemies. There is mutual respect there, and I respect that

Crispy/Four/Crispyainley: Gym bros that motivate each other “u good bro?” “No” to “glad you’re doing better man let’s swordfight”

FiveAinley: Man who is absolutely oblivious to all intentions of his ex (or, at least, pretends to be. And loves being a Bertie Wooster type)

SixAinley: “Oh god not you again” but its both of them so

SevenAinley: Typical hero/villain rivalry (not fun and or sexy)

EightRoberts/war stuff: That BUT they give each other space to live and grow as human beings happy for them

NineRoberts: I mean they didn’t really meet but goddamn would the pining after the master be fucking insane

That or he is just very mad

TenSimm: I don’t want to say yaoi. But. Yaoi with feelings and they’re specifically high schoolers who are both really into P!ATD and MCR and they thought their middle school relationship was waaaaay more serious than it actually was. Like this pairing was MADE for the people who have never actually found love

Twissy: Stockholm syndrome (I’m never gonna stop making that joke sorry about it)

Nah just kidding 100% old married couple

TwelveSimm/ Silver!Simm (fanon): Lowkey Simm is himself but grown up. He’s in his 30s-40s, still a little bitter from lack of connection, but is in a genuinely satisfying relationship for the first time; like a shelter cat finding his forever home, and 12 is somewhat annoyed but glad he’s come around.

Spydoc: They’re gym bros again but they’re on different teams and the guy from the other district is taking this race WAY TOO PERSONALLY, while the other one can’t wait for him to graduate and get off her ass

“Bro why is that guy throwing hurdles”

“Hes mad because he put himself on a training regimen all summer and I beat him out on the 100m by 2.5 seconds”

“… Did he tell you about the training??”

*sigh* “Yeah, he was texting me about it the whole time.”

“Why didn’t you block his number??”

“…. I don’t know? It’s kinda endearing to see somebody so pathetically lusting after you?”

[lliminall]

yan!phantom troupe most to least likely to get you a cat | headcanons

tags: gn!reader, yandere, mentions of threatened violence against animals

pakunoda

she loves the idea! she even brings it up with you herself. she already likes cats and they always seem to like her, but she never thought about adopting one because of her unpredictable lifestyle. now that she has you, kept safe and hidden away in her home, it seems like a much more viable idea. she really does hate to see you so despondent and upset, and hates the thought of you being miserable all alone while she’s away, so bringing in a cat is a perfect solution to your loneliness. if you’ve been particularly good lately she may even bring you along to find one, either from a shelter or straight off of the streets.

machi

unlike pakunoda she won’t bring up the idea herself, but once you mention it she jumps right on top of it. not immediately, of course. she has to at least pretend to think about it and be cranky about it. really though, she recognizes this as a great opportunity to boost your mood and improve your opinion of her. she brings you a kitten because she thinks it’ll be good for you to put all your energy into raising it, and also because it’s just so cute. even if she won’t say it out loud. adopting the cat has a third, more unexpected benefit though. it ends up humanizing her to you, as soon as you see her cooing and petting the little baby when she thinks you aren’t paying attention.

phinks

sure. why not. that’s exactly what he thinks when you bring it up. he really couldn’t give a fuck about some fuzzy little animal living in the house, but if it’ll make you happy (and finally make you like him) he’ll do anything. the shelter employees are a little hesitant to hand one over when you walk in with this brooding, sketchy looking guy but none of them have the guts to outright refuse him, so you end up bringing home whichever one you want. he doesn’t ever grow to love the cat, but with time maybe he can learn to like it. just a little bit. maybe even let it curl up on his lap and get fur all over his track suit, if you gush about how sweet it is while he does it.

uvogin

another one who just doesn’t give a fuck. he doesn’t like cats, doesn’t dislike them, but if you really want one he’ll oblige. yanks one straight off the street and brings it home to you spitting and scratching like it’s life depends on it. the poor baby calms down a lot once you manage to get it out of uvo’s hands, but the cat never quite warms up to him and really only likes you lmao. uvo doesn’t mind though, he really only got it to make you happy, and as you later find out, to have a more convenient way to bring you back in line when you start acting up. all it takes is one off-handed threat towards the cat and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more cooperative. it is very cute to see him trying to pet it’s tiny head with his giant fingers though, even if the cat is less than thrilled to have him around

shalnark

shalnark isn’t thrilled at the idea of having a cat around, but he isn’t exactly opposed to it either. he just doesn’t really care about animals much. and the thought of a cat getting hair everywhere and jumping all over his desk doesn’t sound like the best idea to him. if you’re persistent enough, however, he might make it into a reward for good behavior. if you can make it a couple months without picking a fight or trying to break a window he’ll bring one home for you, but don’t think for a second that you can ever get away with acting out again. shalnark will not hesitate to threaten the cat to get your cooperation, and he’ll say it all with a smile on his face and a hand scratching the oblivious kitty’s ears. he’s another one who won’t ever love the cat exactly, but might grow to tolerate it. likes picking on it with a laser pointer or some other toy that it loves to chase but never quite catches

chrollo

chrollo isn’t too keen on the idea. he moves around a lot, and it’s enough of a hassle getting you from one place to another with no hiccups. throwing an animal into the mix is not an appealing idea to him, but it’s possible to get him on board if you’re very, very convincing, and by convincing I of course mean being as sweet and cuddly (and maybe even sensual) as you can stand to be. I think chrollo would initially plan to buy you some expensive pure bred, but if you asked for a shelter cat specifically he may be surprised to find out that he’s happier that way. there’s something strangely charming about this scraggly little stray you’ve brought in to care for and cuddle. with enough introspection, he might come to the conclusion that he sees some of himself in this cat; or at least, some of who he used to be. he’s another one who will use the cat to keep you on your best behavior, although I don’t think chrollo would threaten to hurt the cat, just to take it away from you if you aren’t obedient. he doesn’t want you to resent him too much, after all.

feitan

oh god. if you know what’s good for yourself you won’t ever even ask him for one. if you do, and he agrees, it’s for one reason and one reason only: to terrorize you into obedience. feitan will not hesitate to hurt this animal you love if he thinks that’s what needs to happen to win your cooperation. whereas some of the others may use those threats a bit emptily, feitan has absolutely no qualms about breaking a bone on this poor animal to remind you that it’s in your best interest to mind his rules, now. what makes it more disturbing is the fact that feitan seems to get along with the cat just fine while you’re not acting up, petting it and letting it curl around his legs while he’s busy. he’ll threaten to snap a bone or crush its windpipe while stroking it calmly, a wicked smile pulling at his lips. he knows how terrified you are of seeing this animal get hurt. you’ll likely never have the guts to disobey him again.

[certainlynotasimp]

Updated Upcoming Fanfics

Hello, my lovely simps~✨ I’m just going ahead and listing off the upcoming one-shots and head-canons that will be coming out within the next couple of days to feed y’all’s and mine Miguel O’ Hara addiction.

Until I get through a good chuck of these: Request will be closed until further notice.

If you wanna check out what I already written and catch up on my current series then feel free to check out my Masterlist~✨

The Adventures of Miggy and Sunny Series (Miguel O’ Hara x Sunshine! SpiderWoman! Reader

Requested: How did Miggy and Sunny meet? ((I plan to make this one a two parter🤭))

Requested: Jealous Miguel ((This idea was so good you guys requested it twice🥰))

Requested: Miggy walks in on Sunny singing and dancing✅

Requested: Sunny, Miles, and Gwen go on an adventure and Miguel didn’t know about it. ((We love angry protective men in this household 🤤))

Requested: The Spidey gang notices that Miguel likes to leave hickeys all over Sunny, and they rip on Miggy about it.✅

Requested: How Miguel if Sunny died…((🫢 We love drama in this house))

Requested: Miggy and Sunny having their own love bug on the way. ((Requested by the same person who asked about Sunny’s death and I’m gonna make its own post 😭)) ✅

Requested: Sunny’s reaction to what Miguel does to Miles. ((I still haven’t seen the movie so I’m gonna have to put a pin in yours, but I will do it.))

Requested: Miguel’s reaction when Sunny is injured

Requested: Miggy shushing at everyone because Sunny fell asleep at his desk. ((😭🥹))

Requested: Sunny standing her ground protecting her friend and Miguel is proud of her. ((My love for being praised is being fed with this one🤭🤭))

Requested: Sunny’s sick day. ((Maybe a bowl of that sexy Papi will cure her? Just kidding…unless))

Requested: A view into the domestic life of Miguel and his love. ((🥰))

Requested: Tio Miguel and Tia Sunny babysit Mayday for the day, even if Miggy didn’t want to. ((Anything with Mayday is accepted here😭🥰🥹))

Requested: Miguel trying to get the attention of his Sunhine, but she keeps getting distracted. ((This one.🥵 is gonna be a little spicy. Not too much because Miguel is already bringing a lot 😏))

Requested: Miggy and Sunny have a shopping day and Miguel isn’t afraid of letting his sol get whatever she wants. ((Sugar daddy moment for spider Papi 🥹🥰))

Requested: Sunny is trying to recover from an injury in Miguel’s apartment and a villain decides to break in. ((👁️👄👁️ <<his face lol))

Requested: A new spider ambushes our favorite couple because she needs help getting back home. Miggy and Sunny soon find out that this spider is actually their child from a different dimension. ((This one right here is prime for some fluff, angst, and maybe Miggy changing his mind about having some babies 👀👀))✅

Requested: On her low days, Sunny just needs a moment of silence even as the world is caving in. ((😭😭))

Sunny lore posts ((because why not?))

General Miguel O’ Hara x Reader

Requested: Miguel with an s/o who gets flustered easily. ((This mf is gonna ruin you all🤭😭🥵))

Requested: Miguel with a Black Cat! S/O oneshot. ((I think I know who the anon is who requested this and I promise bestie I will deliver!!))✅

Requested: Miguel and Reader in a Friends w/ Benefits relationship. ((I’m kinda nervous about this because this will be my first smutty post👉🏻👈🏻))

Surprise post! ((This is a special fanfic I’m writing so y’all get ready.))

Requested: Spiderperson! Reader has to perform a canon event that involves them kissing someone in the iconic spiderman kiss, but they are in a relationship with Miguel ((The drama! 😫 and another Jealous Miguel fanfic?😫🤭))✅

Miguel in a complicated relationship with a Cat Burglar/Black Cat Variant! Reader.

Requested: Headcanon for Miguel with a human reader.✅