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blindmagdalena · 7 months ago

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Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter two)

18+ 3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, somnophilia, drugging, eventual smut. AO3 | fanfic directory

You’ve been hand-chosen by a god; plucked out of your meager, mundane existence and set delicately into the lap of luxury. Your every need will be met, your every whim and wish made real. By any measure, it’s a dream come true. A life safe from pain, from toil, and from the crushing weight of choice. In exchange, all he asks is that you devote yourself wholly to him.

“What happened?” You ask, voice frayed. Your movements are sluggish, hands rubbing the disorientation from your eyes one at a time.

Homelander catches his own reflection briefly in the mirror across from the bed–making sure he doesn’t have a hair out of place for this crucial meeting–before his gaze moves back to you. “Only the most important day of your life,” he says, feeling as though he’s about to tell someone they just won the goddamn lottery. He watches you rise slowly up into a sitting position, never taking your eyes off of him. He knows that you’re nervous–can smell it on you–but he doesn’t worry himself with that. It’s to be expected initially.

“You just so happen to be the luckiest lady in America,” he tells you, putting on his most charming smile.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, your confusion deepening. He can see the tension in your body rising as well, the pace of your heart lifting to a rabbit-like thrum despite the molasses thick haze of the anesthesia in your system.

He laughs softly, lifting his hands in an encompassing gesture. “I saved you.”

Almost instantaneously, the tense line of your shoulders droops and your eyes soften in a way that erupts a wave of butterflies in his gut. You look nearly ready to fall back into bed with the weight of relief that moves through you, causing you to sway slightly. He feels nearly delirious with the giddiness of the moment, his fingers twitching, itching to touch.

“What do you remember?” He asks, daring to inch closer to you. His hand settles on the bed, fingertips nearly brushing your blanketed knee.

“I remember someone grabbing me. A man. He put a rag over my mouth,” you say, lifting a hand to touch your lips. His gaze drops to follow the movement. He subconsciously licks his own. He’d been such a gentleman while you slept, but that hadn’t stopped him fantasizing. He cannot wait to taste you again. “It smelled like grass or something. I fought, but he was so strong,” you say, a tremble like reverence or fear in your voice. Maybe both.

When you realize that his strength is yours, you’ll never need to fear it–or anything else–ever again.

“And then I blacked out. You saved me from him?” You look up at him with wide, watery eyes and he could almost laugh at how cute you look, cluelessly putting together mismatched pieces of the little puzzle going on in your brain. The breathless wonder in your voice–the way you’re looking at him with such hope–makes his chest swell with pride.

You’re in for a real treat.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, lifting his hand to give your knee a gentle squeeze through the blanket. “That was me,” he says, his smile broad and proud. “What I saved you from was ever stepping foot back in that dingy little apartment of yours again. From that mind numbing mediocrity and the tedium of your mundane little life. I brought you home,” he says, gesturing out to his penthouse with a grand sweep of his arm.

A pregnant pause follows.

He waits, but you still don’t seem to get it. Your heart is thumping wildly with no sign of slowing, and that brief flicker of relief has disappeared entirely, the line of your shoulders drawing back up tight. A twinge of apprehension nestles in his chest.

“Well?” He prompts, his smile faltering. “Say something.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you say, gripping the bedding in tight fists. “You kidnapped me?”

“I didn’t kidnap you, you silly goose,” he half scoffs, half laughs. “I brought you home!” He says again, emphasizing the word ‘home’ as if it will speed along your comprehension. Instead, you look more confused and afraid than ever.

He sighs, dropping his hands down into his lap. “C’mon, you could show a little excitement, yeah? I mean, out of the three hundred and thirty million people in America, I picked you. Those are some fucking insane lottery odds.”

“Picked me for what?” You ask quietly, a rasp in your voice that itches uncomfortably at the back of his neck. You sound ready to cry, which won’t do at all. This isn’t how this is supposed to go.

“To be mine,” he says, and while he’s still smiling, there’s an incredulous furrow to his brow.

“Be your what?”

His smile thins alongside his patience. “My–mine, my girlfriend, lover, sweetheart, my-my fucking paramor, whatever you want to call it,” he says, that charming facade slipping as his mounting aggravation with your incomprehension creeps further up his spine.

Where’s your excitement? Where’s your fucking gratitude?

“I don’t even know you,” you say, moving away from him to the opposite side of the bed, sliding onto your feet without ever taking your eyes off of him. You brace your hand on his headboard, steadying yourself.

Homelander stands, taken aback. “Of course you know me. You recognized me instantly!” He says, circling the bed.

For every step he takes forward, you take two back.

He’s bewildered by your response: he’s a goddamn hero, the shining light of providence beaming down on America, and you’re cowering from his approach like he’s some kind of fucking pariah, shrinking back against the mirror when you hit it, cornering yourself.

“You know exactly who I am, and I know you,” he says, uninvited irritation slipping into his voice.

“I know that you like to cook, that you can’t hold your alcohol, and that the best part of your day is the little sweet treat you get yourself after work. You laugh at bad jokes and you watch worse television. Videos about sad animals make you cry, even when they end happy. When you’re depressed you shop online and look at house listings you’ll never be able to afford. I know you, alright? Down to your goddamn skincare routine. So just calm down already.”

Fuck, he needs to reign himself in. He’s gotten too worked up, and you’re stubbornly not calming down at all.

“You’ve been stalking me?” You ask, gaze darting from corner to corner like an animal seeking an avenue for escape. The horror in your voice, in your expression, churns his stomach terribly.

Relax. Relax. Give her a sec. She’ll figure it out, coos a much more confident voice in the back of his mind. He closes his eyes briefly, taking in a slow breath, inhabiting that same confidence.

Everything’s going to be fine.

There’s no other option now.

“It’s–heh–it’s a funny story, actually,” he says, forcefully lightening his tone. He wants you to enjoy this story. Hear the romanticism in it. “I was on patrol, you know, watching for crime, or danger, people in need of saving–I do that a lot–and that’s when I saw you,” he says with a slowly broadening smile, hands lifted towards you like you’re on display. “You were on your way to work, and you handed some homeless guy a box of–”

“John,” you interrupt, staring at him with apprehension.

Homelander’s expression turns stricken, not knowing why you would possibly call him that. In his underlying agitation, he sees flashes of a cramped room behind an enormous door the color of fresh blood. His hands felt so small beating on that terrible door. His throat constricts, and he barely chokes out, “What?”

“John,” you say again, visibly concerned by his reaction. “The man I give food to, his name is John.” Of course it is. As common a gutter name as any.

“Oh,” he says, the muscles in his face tight. It takes him several seconds to recover, blinking rapidly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. So, you… Well, I saw you, and you were rushing, working, and you’d come home, rush and work again, and the food, you’d–” Fuck, he’s lost the thread. He feels like he’s coming unspooled, an awkward mess spilled out on the floor. This is not how he wants you to see him.

If only you hadn’t said that fucking name.

He brings his hands up, covering his mouth and nose as he takes in a deep breath, eyes closed. He drops his hands in front of his chest, palms clasped together. He smiles tensely as his eyes open back up. “I’m gonna start over. Hey, hi, I’m Homelander,” he says, slipping into his stage voice without realizing it, speaking the way he would if he was addressing a crowd. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while.”

He splays his hands at that, as if waiting for an applause for his performance. You don’t appear to be of the mind to offer him one.

“Okay… so you have been stalking me,” you say, pressed so tightly against the mirror you might actually crack it. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. You’re just working yourself up now, focusing on the wrong parts entirely. He assumes you’ll be more reasonable when all the adrenaline in your blood wears off. The smell of it on you is terribly sour. “And now you’ve drugged and kidnapped me.”

He lets out a terse breath. “I–mm, I feel like you’re missing the point just a little bit here,” he says through his teeth, heat prickling his neck where his collar touches it, the fabric suddenly growing irritating against his skin. “I was not stalking you. I saw you a few times, and I wanted to meet you. And again, you’re not kidnapped!”

“I’m free to go, then?” You ask, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Yes, obviously,” he laughs, though there’s tension in it. It takes everything in him not to forcibly uncross your arms himself. He much prefers how you looked in sleep, or when he observed you from a distance. This harsh, closed off version of you is making his skin itch. He wishes he could start the take over, the way they do when he’s filming. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Ever seen Paris? Hell, summer in Italy is–”

“Home,” you say. “I’d like to go home, please.”

“Would you-!” His tone is too sharp, too loud, and he cuts himself off, but not before his volume makes you flinch.

He sucks in a breath, bobbing his pointer finger at you. “You-mmm,” he hums, clicking his tongue as he continues to force calm into his voice. “You are home,” he says, giving into his impulse and taking hold of your wrist, tugging your arms out of that tight cross with ease. He pulls you behind him, deciding that if telling won’t work, showing will have to.

Once you see it, you’ll understand. You’ll understand that all of this has been for you.

“Here, look,” he says, throwing open the door to the closet. Your closet. It’s lined with outfits he’s spent the last several weeks choosing for you. Weeks spent finding a balance between your aesthetic and his. You’ll have to match him, of course. He made sure that they compliment his suit while also carrying similarities to the color palettes you’re drawn to.

He spreads his arm towards the display, fingers twitching. “See? Yours. All of it–and whatever else you want,” he says, hyper aware of how delicate your wrist feels in his grasp. You may as well be a bird in his hands, hollow-boned and fragile. “The kitchen, too, it’s yours,” he says, gesturing vaguely off in the direction of it. His attention snaps back to you, laser focused. He gives your wrist a reflexive tug, fighting with himself to keep his own strength at bay.

“I did all of this for you,” he says in a low voice, pinning you with his stare. “Tell me you understand that.”

If there’s an undercurrent of desperation in his tone, he ignores it.

Your eyes are wide and watery, a deer caught in the golden headlights of all that he is. Your breaths come in shallow waves, and the terrible fear that radiates from you makes him want to shake you. Your gaze slides from him to the closet, flitting between the myriad of garments that hang in the closet. All in your size. Some of them are nearly identical to pieces you own, but manufactured by the original designer instead of a cheap knock-off plucked from a department store rack.

And still he can give you so much more. All he asks is that you love him for it.

There’s a tremble running through you. Your throat clicks on a dry swallow, and slowly your attention drifts back to him, sweeping him from head to toe, taking account of him in his entirety for the first time. He tenses. It’s a little strange to be so seen by you, but it feels good, too. He squares his shoulders, wanting you to see the best in him.

“Why me?” You ask quietly, your eyes meeting his. You still look lost, but what he finds endearing is the underlying conviction he sees. You’re always quick to move towards a solution. He likes that about you. He’s not sure what it is that you’ve decided, but it’s clear you’ve made a choice somewhere in your mind.

Because you’re like me.

“Because you deserve it,” he says, drawing you in at the same time he turns his body towards yours. “You’re underappreciated. Undervalued. You’re capable of so much more than the world gives you credit for,” he says, his grip on your wrist flexing. Every one of those glorified pen-pushers at Vought should choke for the way they ignore him, hoisting their agendas onto him while dismissing his ideas. “And you’re lonely.”

Your eyes widen a fraction. Bullseye.

Sensing vulnerability, he moves a step closer, taking hold of your other wrist. He offers both a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to be.”

Neither of us do.

“This is insane,” you whisper, but the inflection of your voice makes it sound like a question. Like you’re considering it. “You’re… You’re Homelander,” you say, as if that should explain everything you hold in your gaze.

And I’m nobody, you must be thinking. Maybe you were once, but no longer. You’ve been elevated in the way only someone chosen by God can be.

“And you’re here. With me,” he counters, his own voice lower now, quieter in the intimately narrow space between your bodies, both hands wrapped around your wrists. There’s a flush crawling up your throat, warming you all the way to your ears. His thumb absently strokes your pulse-point. “Safe. I’m a hero, remember?”

“So, you’re not… going to wear my skin, or eat me?” You ask, voice filled with such dread at the notion he thinks you might have actually believed that was his intention.

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, first of all, no more Silence of the Lambs for you,” he says, relinquishing his hold on your wrists to slide his hands up your arms, squeezing your shoulders. “Second, no. I’m not going to wear your skin. Or eat you.”

Well… Not like that. He can’t promise he won’t devour you, though. Pin you beneath the weight of his strength–he could keep you down with nothing more than his pinky–put his head between your thighs and trace his name with his tongue until you’re screaming it. The thought makes his cock throb, stiffen. He licks his lips subconsciously, glad for the cover of his cup.

“Okay,” you say, snapping him out of his daydream. “Then you want me to…?”

It seems ridiculous to him that he would still have to explain it. He’ll blame it on the anesthesia.

“Do whatever you want,” he says, taking his hands from your shoulders to motion to the rest of his penthouse. “Cook, don’t cook. Read books, shop, get in arguments on the internet over fictional characters,” he says, swirling his hand in a vague gesture. “Whatever makes you happy,” he says, gaze drifting back to you. All you have to do is do it with me. “Pretty sweet deal if you ask me.” He offers you the sharp edge of a smile, leaving little room for discussion.

You stare at him for a moment that’s too long and too quiet for his liking before your eyes wander, taking in the rest of his room. The balcony beyond the threshold. The mirrors and paintings on the walls, the statues in the corners, the rich dark colors. Everything has been decorated to make the space feel grander, more open. No blank walls. No doors that lock. It’s his home.

And now it’s your home.

“Okay,” you say eventually.

His brows shoot up. “Okay?”

You look back to him, your expression difficult for him to parse. Despite years spent practicing and learning facial expressions–all part of his camera training–he cannot read yours right now. He would be more bothered if he weren’t so distracted by the spark of hope that flares in his chest. “Okay,” you say again, adding a small nod this time.

He exhales a breathy laugh. “Yeah? Yeah! Okay. Alright. Wow, that’s… that’s great,” he says, his grin wide and a touch incredulous. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a sense of suspicion, but his elation smothers it. He had dreaded that you might face an adjustment period, be confused, that there would be tears or anger. You were really starting to get under his skin with all that talk of kidnapping.

As if he were some sort of common thug or criminal, and not a savior.

In his exhilaration, he cups your face suddenly. He feels your pulse spike in his hands, but his focus is solely on your eyes.

“I’m going to make you the happiest woman alive,” he vows with a soft gaze and an eager smile. He leans in close enough to feel your breaths on his lips, tempted to kiss you, but he stops himself. There will be plenty of time for that, and he doesn’t want to remember your first kiss alongside the acrid tinge of your fading fear. His thumbs brush your cheeks, learning the shape of them under his touch.

He’d been wrong when he first took notice of you. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he draws away, placing his hands on his hips. “Now… How about we get you a little more comfortable for bed?”

( chapter three )

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #x reader #my writing #yandere x reader

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knnichs · 1 month ago

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you were mine (but you were awful everytime.)

with kinich’s busy schedule, he somehow can’t find the time to even send you short letters on how he was doing. or: watching your childhood friend disappear from your hands.

c. kinich & gn!reader ( platonic or romantic, not explicitly stated )

t. character(s) are childhood friends with reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, word vomit, NO BETA WE DIE LIKE .... LIKE WHO???, angst, hurt/no comfort wow i can finally use this tag, little to no dialogue, wc: 1.4k

taglist. @honeyney @pneumosia @tragedy-of-commons @gl4di0lus @ariadnehelx @azuresaqua @mikashisus -> join the taglist here!

A REQUEST FROM @ MIKASHISUS: i’m here for the valentine’s event >:3 may i req iris + evanesce + kalopsia + lacuna for kinich? 🤍 GARDENERS NOTE: RAY IM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU. THIS WAS LITERALLY SO INSANE TO WRITE heres me self projecting AGAIN!

more author notes at the end !

“You don’t think that one day we’ll be separated, right?”

You played with the grass underneath you, plucking out one after the other and attempting to braid them together to create a makeshift crown. It doesn’t work, it unravels itself on your palm and the blades of green straighten itself back to its original shape. The sun was just setting, this was yet another boring day in the fields of Natlan. The boy beside you scoffs at your question, almost offended if you listen in real hard.

“No. And I’ll make sure of it.”

Kinich never liked to talk of the future. When you ask him of what he sees himself doing a few years from now–he would redirect the conversation and ask you to help him with some chores the tribe chief assigned him to do instead. He buries himself in work, even as a child, just to stop his mind from drifting to those kinds of philosophical questions. Who has the time for it anyway?

You, ever so displeased by his straightforward answer, pressed him even more. You wanted to hear more–what he thought of you, what he would do if you were ever to drift away from him, so you asked him: How?

He fell silent for a moment, looking down to his feet. Kinich fiddled with something in his hand before he turned to you, giving you a weak smile. The boy hands you a flower, white and pure, and sits right in front of you.

“I’ll make a promise,” He raises his pinkie, tilting his head as he did–his bright eyes sure to be forever ingrained in your memory. “That I’ll promise to stand by you until we both die. Is that enough?”

“But how will you make sure that you’ll keep that promise? Swear it.”

He reaches for your hand, trying to set up the pinkie promise ceremony to get this over with.

“Then… I swear on my heart, I will be with you.”

You hook your finger around his tightly, as if trying not to let go of the moment. Kinich blocked the sun–but the orange glow reached the tufts of his hair and seeped through the black strands. He used his other hand to cover where the two of you linked, sealing the promise, and he let go.

“You better make sure of it–or else I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” You say, pointing a finger at him accusingly. He raises his hands up, surrendering to your wishes.

Kinich has always been popular in the Scions. You remember the people who once made fun of him as a kid were now fawning over his looks now that he was older, you were really only the real person who stuck by him through the years. You were there when the other kids picked on him, and you were there even after he had gotten his vision.

But now? You could only wish to be a part of his itinerary.

You don’t blame him, life as a saurian hunter is difficult. Yes, not many would go into that kind of profession, it’s cruel, but someone has to do it. Kinich had no issue choosing to go to that rabbit hole even when you explained to him multiple times that you were concerned about him going through all of that just for some pouches of mora. Well–the amount of mora you get per commission is indeed quite a lot, but there must’ve been some better way to earn it, right?

Day by day, you never fail to return to the same tree where the two of you had made that promise. An emptiness would fill your chest–one so painful you’re sure nothing or no one else could help fix it but him. You hold Kinich so dear to your heart that it’s difficult to imagine a world without him. What if you had never met? Would things have been different then?

The same sun would sink below the grass, the same gust of wind that greets you–brushing past your hair with the gentlest touch. The same tree would shed its leaves seasonally, and the occasional smell of nostalgia hits you hard. How you had missed lounging around here, under the leaves, with your friend. How you missed when days were boring, and your biggest worry was how you’d get home before it got dark and your parents would scold you for being out too long.

Kinich held your hand when you walked through the streets of Natlan once the moon rose, he held your hand when talking to the vendors in the market and you had no clue how to talk to them–they were intimidating, he couldn’t blame you. It’s a shame he was forced to grow up so young. He protected you as a way to heal his inner child–to give the love he never got.

You just had to ruin it.

You just had to be so selfish–to ask him for more time, just a few minutes more or seconds, even. Just a little more time to spend with him, just enough to watch the sun rise or fall, just enough to have one more conversation about nothing and everything. When he does give in to your requests–the two of you end up saying nothing, the silence speaks volumes, you’ve drifted apart. There’s nothing to talk about but the past. You know almost nothing of his life now that he seems so far.

Those were the same eyes that looked at you with such fondness it was hard to express it in words. You remember the sound of his footsteps when he’d creep up behind you to greet you, you remember the messy handwriting he had when he was just learning–the random letters he’d give you throughout the day just to show you how appreciative he was of your presence. Because you were there when others weren’t, you made him feel loved when the others didn’t think of him as someone equal simply because of his childhood.

His name has always been on the tip of your tongue, a silent prayer of wanting to see him for just a second, swinging through the trees with the boxes in hand for his delivery. The bright yellow of his saurian companion, the brightness of his eyes, the sound of his voice. You had never imagined it would end like this, with him frustrated–your tears close to spilling, under the same tree you had spent time with the most, he would tell you how much you bugged him asking for time out of his very busy life. You couldn’t say anything but recall the times of your youth.

“No one has the right to dictate my time,” He’d glare at you, his voice laced with something unfamiliar–for the very first time he was angry. “Even you.”

“You promised… you promised you’d stick with me until death. Does that mean nothing to you, at all?”

“We were kids, I don’t believe that counts–you know what? Give me a break. I already have so much to my plate that I don’t think I have the energy to do this.”

The situation was helpless. You didn’t trust your voice enough that you would retort with some witty remark like you used to as a child–you couldn’t shout back at him for being rude to you when all you’ve ever done to him was treat him with the kindness he didn’t know existed. Each word shared between the two of you were etched deep within your mind, he was a part of your soul. You couldn’t believe he would leave you this easily.

So you whisper–because you can’t shout, you can’t speak.

“Don’t be a stranger,”

Your vision was blurry when he finally turned his back on you. You’re not sure if that was still him, stopping in his tracks, or if it was the tree swaying from the wind– almost mocking you of what just happened, giving the illusion that he was still here, that he’d be willing to salvage whatever the two of you had.

When you call out for his name, no one appears. He wasn’t there to lend you his bandana to dry your tear stained cheeks, stop you from roughly rubbing your eyes so it wouldn’t get itchy later.

He was truly the only person that felt like home, and on the day of love–you had never expected for him to leave so easily.

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

reblogs with comments are INCREDIBLY appreciated! go scream go feral idc i will eat all of them up and run away with a familiarly shaped reblog in my mouth, thank you.

DAWG THE WAY THIS WAS SO SELF INDULGENT UM the prompts reminded me of something that happened way back THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ABOUT IT SO I HOPE IT WAS SO BAD UMMMM i literally dont know how to put my feelings into words if u can tell LOL! anyway probably my first time ?? writing hurt no comfort or pure angst ... this is new TO ME !!!! i hope its ok !!

#hvntersloveletters #IS THIS EVEN A LOVE LETTER AT THIS POINT #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kinich #kinich x reader #kinich angst #kinich x reader angst

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quandledlngle69 · 1 month ago

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☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Gore, corpse, murder, electrocution, mention of drugs, frat party, reader is a bimbo, reader is fem, reader is implied to be stupid outside of killing, reader is a little weird. ☆ W.C. 0.9K.

・. ★ Thinking about Ghostface!Kaiser, who resides in the heart of Berlin, a football prodigy in a top college. His life seems flawless to outside eyes, but when the light of day disappears, and the darkness comes to swallow the city whole, he’s the reason for the terror caused, the string of brutal murders of college kids that have everyone on edge.

He thrives in it, the whole spectacle. He makes sure the crime scenes are a show of blood, gore, and things that would make even the most hardened detective try not to let their earlier lunch come up their throats.

And then, someone comes and steals a piece of his spotlight.

The kills are messy, like his, but way more sloppier. Leaving the corpses as if they were dissecting a frog in biology, or like someone was blown up from the inside out. They seemed to only target females, not males, which he quickly learned it’s probably because it's either they couldn’t take down an average male, or they were some boy creep. The girls had things in common, either they were popular, cheerleaders, or mean bitches, or the lucky draw of all three.

It takes a couple weeks, but he finally figures out the killer is you on Halloween night.

He loves nights like these, where can just go out in his mask and costume, strew up the guts of a couple of kids at a college house party – and no one would know. It was the biggest frat party that year – and everyone was either black out drunk, high, or coked out. His target was the host, a popular girl on a cheerleading team, a spoiled daddy's girl who only got in because her father was buddy's with the school principal. She had gotten tired of the party downstairs and went to go take a bath, according to the whispers he overheard. He had managed to slip past silently upstairs, like a shadow. His blood felt hot, already pumping with the familiar build up of adrenaline.

But his target wasn’t alone, he saw you stood over the tub.

It was you, the dizzy, bimbo girl he would see in the hallways and in his criminology lectures. You were an international student. He had no clue how you got in, with the way you would ask questions with common sense answers, earning a puzzled look from the professor and whispered snickers in the room. You always looked like a lost rabbit in a crowd of wolves, and you were too clumsy to be left alone with even a plastic fork. You dressed like you were pushed straight out of that one American movie he had heard of–mean girls. You were bubbly, pretty and sociable enough to get a seat at the cheerleaders table, and the attention of the mere meatheads he played with; who only paid attention to you babble when you wore a low cut shirt, and you were none the wiser.

You were a target on his list, not at the top, but still on it. He wouldn’t tell you that though.

You were dressed as a stereotypical playboy bunny outfit, but–pink. The whole dramatic and sexy outfit was a juxtaposition to the bloodlust in your big eyes. The girl had her headphones in, her voice dreadfully loud and scratchy as she sang to some dumb pop song, cucumber slices over her eyes, completely unaware of you looming over her. The warm, lavender–scented water rippled as the girl comfortably adjusted her position in the big ceramic bowl. His gloved hand gripped his Buck 120, prepared to have two for one bodies for his art piece, but he paused when he saw you holding something.

The toaster was heavy in your hands, its metal surface cool over your twitchy fingers. His sharp eyes followed the cord connected to it, all the way to the outlet by the sink wall. Your posture showed a hit of debate, before he watched you harshly rip back the curtain, the screeching sound loud enough to startle the once relaxed girl in the tub–who finally took the cucumbers off her eyes. She immediately shrieked, obviously upon being seen in the bath, but you, a guest, were standing over her tub with a toaster in your hand, a manic look plastered on your features.

It was like he was watching some cheesy, comedic horror movie.

“Hey, do you ever think about how dangerous electricity and water are together?” You asked with an almost dazed look on your face, your eyebrows and nose scrunched, as if your brain was trying hard to figure out the answer to your own question.

Before the girl could answer, the toaster purposely slipped from your hands.

The moment it hit the water, bright and angry sparks erupted– cracking like fireworks. The bathwater was an inescapable death trap, the girl's body jerking and convulsing violently as her mouth opened in a violent scream, before it swallowed bathwater. The bubbles and bathwater spilled from the sides, getting the bathmat wet, the water seeping in it, turning it a darker colour. The bathroom lights flickered above, and the distinct smell of burning flesh swirled in the air.

And then– stillness.

You tilted your head, crouching just a little almost to admire your work, before unplugging the cord from the wall. You mumbled, almost to yourself, “Guess you don’t have to worry about your split ends anymore.”

Kaiser was still in the shadow of the doorway, grinning from ear to ear under his mask. He was silent with his stalking, and you were only able to gauge his presence when he was directly behind you, flinching when your back hit a hard, muscular chest.

You didn't seem even a little afraid as you looked up at him through your lashes, your glossy lips parted in surprise.

Scheiße, maybe he won’t kill you just yet.

#blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #micheal kaiser x reader #micheal kaiser #kaiser x reader #kaiser #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #kaiser michael #★ .・ DARKCON

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alwaysanundertone · 5 months ago

Text

Day 29: edging | Jegulus

“No, Y/N, that’s not the correct answer.” You huffed, pouting. You loved the fact that you were younger than your two boyfriends most of the time, you loved how protective they got, you loved being the centre of their attention; what you didn’t love was being tutored by them. They were the most amazing partners in the world most of the time, but when it came to prepare you for a test, they became unsufferable. It surely didn’t help that your attention span was the one of a ten years old when it came to studying.

“Jamie, please, I’m so tired” You made him puppy eyes, knowing that Regulus wouldn’t let you relax until you finished all of your work.

“No, baby, you have to finish this.”

“But I already know everything, it’s not fair!”

Regulus raised a brow at you, making you slightly panic: he wasn’t the one to raise his voice, his calmness was way more intimidating. “Okay, baby, if you’re so sure about it, we will play a game. We’re going to test you on all the material we’ve taught you today. At the end, you will be edged for each mistake you made”

You widened your eyes, knowing that you’ve royally fucked it up. You mumbled something, but they both ignored you, getting started on discussing together the question they would have asked you.

“Reggie, you’re right, maybe we should go over the material once again, just to be sure?” Your voice sounded dangerously close to begging, but you would have done anything to not participate in that sick game.

“Come on now, love, you insisted you knew everything. Don’t underestimate your knowledge! It’s just a little test, now be quiet and stay still” You huffed, trying to steal some glances at the notes they had splayed in front of them, only for James to cover them up, winking at you.

You sat there for a while, gnawing at your lower lip, cursing yourself for behaving like a brat. You knew what the consequences were, so why did you insist on making them mad?

“Okay, baby, are you ready?”

“No, I made a mistake, can we just start over-“

“Which plant produces Stinksap?” James winked at you. You tried to search for the answer, knowing damn well it was all for nothing, your mind blank.

“V-Venomous tentacula? No, no wait it’s Mandrake? No-”

“The answer is incorrect, it was Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Next”

“I was about to say that! You interrupted me, fucking-“

“If you were to heal some wounds, which plant would you use?” Regulus was sporting a blank expression, and you knew you were royally fucked.

“Wormwood” You were sure about this, a 100%. It wasn’t one chance in hell it was wrong, you knew this one-

“It’s Dittany” James gave you a pitiful expression, you huffed your cheeks, straightening up a bit: if you were going to loose this sick game, you would have least kept your pride doing so.

“I give up, please, stop asking questions” They had already tested you on four questions, and you only got one right. They exchanged a pointed look.

“Okay, we’re going to stop here. Now we will teach you a lesson, and tomorrow you will sit down and behave, you will be studying for this test because there is no chance in hell you’re going to fail this, I refuse to be perceived as someone who doesn’t know how to properly tutor just because you’re behaving like a brat.” Regulus raised a brow at you as you were going to reply, actively shutting you up. “Now, take off all of your clothes and lay down on the bed”

You scrambled to do so, knowing it wasn’t the time to question Regulus. Once you were sprawled on the bed like he instructed, they both circled you. James’s hand circled your neck, squeezing softly, while your other partner held a rabbit vibrator in his hand.

“We will edge you for three times, baby. You aren’t allowed to come if we don’t say so, so don’t even try to disobey us, understood?”

“Understood” As soon as you said the word, Regulus head disappeared between your thighs. You felt his warm lips on your knee, tracing your inner thigh with his warm tongue, making you shiver from head to toe. He reached your mound, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on top of your panties, making you gasp.

James chuckled, nipping at your earlobe. “Love, I think you should hold back a bit” You refrained from whining, not wanting to worsen the situation you were in.

Regulus calloused fingers took off your panties, smirking at your wetness. He entered you with his index finger, slowly pulling it out afterwards, entering you once again.

“Look how wet she is, do you love being punished, darling?” You shook your head, eyes closed, as you tried your best to hold back, to not be affected by your boyfriend’s ministrations. “No? Then why are you this wet, love?”

You bit back a bratty remark, you had a hate-love relationship with your punishment. Yes, they could be really fun, and you usually enjoyed the aftercare, but it was really hard for you to be soft and pliant, and they knew this all too well.

He teased your clit with his thumb, meanwhile James started kissing you, his movement slow and calculated, making your head spin with the stimulation.

As you were about to come, they stopped any movement, making you whine.

“That’s one, love, you did so good” Reggie kissed your thigh, it was impossible for you to stay mad at him when he behaved like this.

He lowered his head on your core, making you gasp, as he started to stimulate you once again. “Fuck, Regulus”

James opened your shirt, his fingers working the buttons quickly, then opening the frontal clasp of your bra. “You’re so gorgeous” He breathed out, looking mesmerized.

“You see ‘em… fuck” You crossed your eyes as Regulus sucked on your clit. “Everyday”

“They’re always so pretty” He sucked on your nipple as Regulus sped up the rhythm of his sucking. You looked down, admiring how his black curls created a sinful contrast with your skin; he raised his gaze, winking at you.

In the back on your mind you knew that you weren’t allowed to come, problem was that you didn’t care anymore. You wished they forgot about the punishment, but obviously, they didn’t.

As soon as they heard the changing of the tone of your moans, they stopped altogether, making you whine.

“Please, fuck, just let me come” Your clit felt almost raw, you felt on the verge of crying.

“No, honey, we said you were going to be edged three times and that’s what’s going to happen. If you behave we might let you finish afterwards”

He positioned the rabbit vibrator inside of you with one swift thrust, James kept on sucking and nipping at your nipples: it took you an embarrassingly short amount of time for you to be on the verge of coming.

When they didn’t let you come once again, you sniffled. You actually felt the urge to cry, to let out all of the frustration you built up over this punishment.

James softened his gaze, and so did Regulus. “You were so good for us, honey, we’re going to make you come now, okay?”

You nodded, Regulus started fingering you once again, this time his movements were much softer. James massaged your breasts in his hands, his thumb flicking your nipple here and then, keeping his movements gentle and controlled.

In no time you reached your peak, and as you exploded around your boyfriend fingers, they sweet talked you through it.

Once you came down from your high, they moved like a well-oiled machine, cleaning you up while simultaneously praising you, trying their best to keep you as grounded as possible.

taglist: @consciouscarrot @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

#jegulus x reader #kinktober 2024 #james potter #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #james potter x y/n #jegulus smut #jegulus #smut #james potter x you #james potter x reader #regulus black x reader

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months ago

Text

Valentine's Day Bingo 2025: White Rabbit - Carmen Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219 @morgthemagpie

Companion piece to:

The Farm - Carmy recalls the day you met.

Good People - Richie and Carmy discuss a potential relationship with you.

Pears - It starts when Carmy makes an order he doesn't remember.

Something Important - Carmy knows the two of you have something important together.

Mornings - Carmy sleeps better with you around.

Bubble - You have no idea that you saved Carmy's life.

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW) - Carmy tells you he lvoes you for the first time.

Doing Something - Carmy owns up to something he's been doing without telling you.

Carmen doesn’t tell anyone about his new tattoo. He keeps it tucked underneath the fabric of his chef’s whites, nestled safely against his heart. His thumb traces over it in the quieter moments, rubbing across the token of love inked into his chest.

It’s later that night you find it. The two of you are tangled up on the couch and you’re undressing him for the first time in days, your lips ghosting up from his navel, along his ribs when you come across the cellophane covering just over his left nipple.

“You got a new tattoo when I was away.” You muse, your fingertips trailing lightly over the medical tape holding it in place. “Can I…”

He helps you remove the cellophane, peeling back the layer so you can make out the shape underneath the smudged ink. A small, geometric rabbit, just like the one you sketched the other day when you were describing your namesake.

“My mother was a fan of Lewis Carroll.” You’d told him as he’d studied the drawing you’d done on a napkin at The Bear. “When we used to play together in the fields, she used to call me her white rabbit because I used to hop around pretending to be a bunny. She used to say ‘Alice, don’t you be disappearing down any rabbit holes!’”

You don’t have many memories of your mother, she got sick a few months later, had to give up her farm. You’d moved to the city with your father, a man who had never wanted you in the first place.

Carmen calls you Bunny after that. His own little white rabbit, guiding him back to the light after years of darkness.

“You have always led me to the right path.” He tells you, his fingertips tucking an errand strand of hair back behind your ear. “I don’t lose my way so much anymore. Even if this ends, I want to remember you, remember this, a time when I was truly happy.”

“Oh Carmen.” You murmur, leaning in close, your mouth ghosting lightly over his. “You and me baby, we’re never going to end.”

Love Carmen? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fx #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x reader #carmy

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princessbrunette · 10 months ago

Note

If kook!reader ask pogue!rafe to come with her to midsummer would he go?

𐙚₊˚🎀⊹♡🧁˚₊‧

yes but not without rejecting you one million times. it’s not because he doesn’t wanna hang with you particularly. he’s already fucked you a few times by this point and he’s starting to get a little too attached to the point it makes him mad. it’s because he knows he’ll stick out like a sore thumb. you’re a kook, and you’re just about tolerable — so he would rather not spend the evening cosplaying as wealthy and talking to people he knew looked down on him. it challenged his dignity.

but then you’re looking up at him, that fucking baby bunny rabbit lost puppy needy kitty look with the big eyes and pouty lips and twitching nose, tilting your head and lowering your voice — asking him if you’d done something wrong, as if you couldn’t fathom why a pogue like him wouldn’t wanna be paraded around midsummers.

“there was a god damn storm a few days ago, m’up to my neck in repairs for the same assholes who’re gonna be there ‘cos they can’t do shit for themselves. you really think i wanna spend the night in a fuckin’ rent-a-tux gettin’ talked down on? nah, sorry. no. take one of your other little friends.” he dismisses you, throwing the rag over his shoulder beneath the blistering sun on his work-site where you’d come to visit him, wearing your prettiest sundress in hopes to have buttered him up.

“rafe! s’not like that. the vibes are like, really good there so everyone’s gonna be nice! and drunk! they had this really good champagne last year and it’s all free, don’t you wanna try it rafe? you don’t have to talk to anyone but me!” you beg, all whiny and fuckable so he’s walking away to his station, hoping you get the hint and leave him alone. as usual, you don’t.

“answers no, kid. go home.” he drawls but you tug on his arm until he turns, forcing your body up against his making some other builders wolf whistle in the distance. “y’know you’re on some real thin ice, okay?”

“i’ll let you put in in my butt?” you pout and he frowns, eyes darting around.

“you— what?”

“c’mon rafe, anything you want. don’t make me go there alone. s’embarrassing.”

“so don’t go alone. already told you, take one of your kook friends, know you got plenty of those who i’m sure are dyin’ to hang off your arm the whole night.”

his lack of care over you seeing other people stings, and you blink up at him, all hurt and scorn.

“fine. i’ll ask jj, i think he’s gonna be there anyway, working and stuff. maybe i can pull some strings and get him to be my date inste—”

“jesus chr— alright… fuck. i’ll come. but if i hate it i’m leaving…yeah?” he forcefully detaches your arms from him and bends at the waist to stare into your eyes, making sure you got the message. you seem happy enough, nodding and shooting forward quickly enough to peck him on the lips. he stands up straight with an exasperated eye roll. “and what’d i tell you about the PDA shit whilst i’m at work?” he scolds, but he doesn’t really care that much, he’d even go as far as to say you looked pretty adorable, skipping off happily.

“yeah, yeah — i’ll text you the details!” you squeal, disappearing away from his workplace. you were gonna be the death of him.

𐙚₊˚🎀⊹♡🧁˚₊‧

#anon #pogue!rafe #rafe cameron prompt

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old-lemon-tree · 2 months ago

Text

Drunk headcanons - boys edition

How the gang acts while drunk.

Based on canon scenes and conversations from the game. The rest is just my interpretation of their characters. I also wanted to get silly with these so forgive my indulgence if someone results OOC. That said, keep in mind some of these characters have severe addictions so their entries won’t be as lighthearted as the rest.

Tldr: I was listening to Arthur’s drunk voicelines and went down a rabbit hole. Come with me.

TW: Alcohol and general drunkness / Alcohol abuse and addiction.

Arthur

He gets LOUD. Louder than the rest. During group outings he’s the one who’s constantly shushed. He will apologize profusely for it.

He will be extra friendly towards strangers. In the same way he will flirt on accident and get incredibly bashful as a result.

A brawl?! Fun! :D

Tries to provide words of wisdom Hosea once told him twelve years ago. Loses track of what he was saying halfway. That doesn’t stop him.

Continues under the cut...

Bill

Gets angry-drunk. Actively searches for fights and provokes strangers.

Will desperately seek company and comradely but act a fool the whole time and end up alone.

Dares you to drink “If you are a real man”

Will confess very deep feelings and secrets and generally open up a lot...if only you could understand a single word he’s slurring with his face pressed against the table.

Charles

The one and only time you can see Charles Smith dance.

Sobers up when is needed. How does he go from half-asleep to fighting three guys is a mystery.

Hugging and seeking out physical contact. Always has a hand on someone’s shoulder. Whether to keep them upright or balance himself that’s not clear.

He actually doesn’t enjoy getting drunk all that much. He will pretend to be drunker than he is to match everyone’s energy.

Dutch

Sleepy drunk. He’s the guy who falls asleep in the saloon with his hat over his face.

Will not show signs until is too late. One second he’s perfectly sober doing a speech, the next he can’t string two words together.

When severely drunk he will be quieter. He gets paranoid about saying the wrong thing.

He usually has game. Now he’s trying to flirt by boasting poetry and being a smartass about it. He’s peeved when for some unfathomable reason it doesn’t work.

Hosea

Liable to wander off

If someone catches him before he can disappear he will bring them along to look at this “nice spot” he saw earlier.

He takes his drunk ramblings extremely seriously so you better listen, he’ll test you about it later.

He will let you go on and on about your problems without ever complaining. Is he listening? Probably not. He’s still thinking about that nice spot. He should take you to see it.

Javier

Tries to hide how drunk he is, but his casual walk isn’t fooling anyone. He’s stumbling a lot.

Same goes for his face. No, Javier that is not a tough look, your left eye is drooping.

His flirt game is on point, though. Either that or working girls can smell how easily he gets swayed into tipping more.

Someone asks him to play a song. He enthusiastically agrees. Proceeds to play a completely different song.

John

Gets into laughing fits that last longer than they should and drag everyone along. Often laughs at his own voice if he talks too much.

He will flirt. Badly. Likely in the back of the saloon making an absolute fool of himself. Two braincells power this man.

Either that or he’s outside, burp-talking to his horse and telling them what a good boy/girl they are.

If you buy him a drink he’ll become your best friend for the night.

Kieran

Try to threaten him, and he will laugh. Is it drunken confidence? Has he always been secretly brave? Or is it that he doesn’t get people’s tone when he’s drunk so he thinks you’re joking?

If you’re sick he’s the one coming to check you’re alright.

He gets incredibly competitive if someone challenges him. Sure, I’ll jump in the lake in January, friend.

Tends to reminisce and talk about his sad childhood. Not sure this will woo the ladies, but they do look at him with the pity reserved to a limping dog.

Lenny

Gets dragged into situations™.

In all his youthful goodwill, he will try to be the sober and responsible one. He is, in fact, neither sober nor responsible.

Likes to pull little pranks. Hides the others glass, switches bottles with empty ones, moves the chairs around.

Where did he go?! LENNY!! (he’s probably with Hosea to see that nice spot he saw ea–)

Micah

Doesn’t like to get drunk around people. If he drinks it’s either way too late at night when everyone’s asleep, or when he’s on guard duty, far away from camp.

He’ll be honest with his opinions and won’t be pleasant about it. More so than usual.

Words? What are those? Grammar? Pffff! He talks like a five years old with whiskey breath and a a sailor’s mouth.

Has the worst hangovers. Waking up in the afternoon with cotton in your ears and a vice around your head kind of hangovers. He will whine about it. Incessantly.

Pearson

When he has one too many he gets sad. If you talk to him he will cry while reminiscing about the navy.

Up until that point, though, he’s the happiest you’ve seen him in days. He will join in every song. He knows SO MANY SONGS.

First to wake up the next day. Hangovers? Never heard of’em.

“Drink some water. Have you had any water? Got water, everybody!”

Sean

Has the unofficial title of drinking games official organizer.

First in line to defend his own if anyone starts something. Someone pushed you? He’s in their face before you. Not particularly effective in fights, but has the attitude and energy of a mongoose.

Will sing. Will ask others to sing. Will insult people if they don’t sing.

Tries to keep everyone's energy up even if he’s seconds from passing out. If he’s still standing he’s not drunk enough.

Swanson

Not a happy drunk or a pleasant sight. Probably the only one nobody is happy seeing with a bottle in hand.

He drinks alone most of the times.

Gets paranoid, aggressive, and accusatory when overly drunk, so the gang rarely lets him leave camp.

He will join into song if the energies around the campfire match. He usually gets overdrunk fairly quickly though.

Trelawny

He appears out of nowhere during night outings and buys everyone a drink.

He’s a chill-drunk, not much different from how he is normally, only now he’s slurring and his choice of words is a little less polished.

Impromptu magic show. How does he get better at magic while he’s drunk?!

Mostly keeps to himself but gets overly sentimental with people if they get near.

Uncle

Not different from how he is every other day. He is always drunk.

Although he loves to taunt people he’s rarely mean about it. Unless it’s Micah.

He wants no problem and if anyone starts something that could end up with a brawl he simply walks away.

He can easily predict when anyone’s had one too many and they’re about to throw up. Won’t hold your hair back or nothing, but he will pat your on the back and call you a dumbass.

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mrsmangi · 3 months ago

Note

Tulip please 🌷🌷🌷🌷

love - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: tulip - an act of affection so blatant everyone notices - meaning: declaration of love ♡ w.c.: 1.1k ♡ a/n: thank you, anon! hope you enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt !

An art gallery wasn’t exactly Luigi’s scene, and you knew it. He made it clear enough when you mentioned the event to him last week. His exact words were, “I’d rather get lost in a JavaScript rabbit hole for 8 hours than stand around with pretentious people pretending they understand abstract art.”

So, when he showed up at your door the evening of the show–hair still slightly damp from a rushed shower, wearing a crisply ironed button-up that actually made him look like he belonged at a high-end gallery–needless to say, you were more than surprised. Still, you were grateful except–

“You hate places like the gallery,” you had said, folding your arms in skepticism. He leaned against your doorway with a grin.

“Not entirely true,” he countered cheekily. “Besides, I would never leave my beautiful girlfriend to fend for herself against these rich snobs.”

“You’re rich, Luigi,” you pointed out.

“Okay, but this is different.”

“I can handle myself,” you said, locking up your apartment door. Your hard expression softens when you look over his outfit once more. He really put in the effort for you.

“You really didn’t have to come,” you sighed, feeling slightly guilty.

In reality, you were sure he had only agreed because you had talked about the exhibit for weeks. It wasn’t some random outing; your good friend from college had artwork in the show. You had even planned to go alone, determined not to let his lack of interest deter you. Somehow, though, Luigi still showed, drove you, and stayed at your side like he wasn’t bored in the slightest.

He didn’t make any snide comments. Didn’t crack a single joke about the ridiculously priced paintings or showy titles. He just listened when you explained why a certain piece caught your attention, nodding in a way that made you feel like he was genuinely paying attention.

“You’re really trying, huh?” you ask him. You’re paused in front of an acrylic piece titled Two Bodies, One Heart, a portrait of two people splashed in color. Their bodies are melded together– a melting, golden heart in the center of their jointed figures.

“Trying what?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets, staring at the piece.

“To not say anything snarky.”

He gives you a sidelong glance. “You know, if you didn’t want me to behave myself tonight, you should have just said so.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “You’re unbelievable, Mangione.”

From the corner of your eye, you spot another piece. “I’ll be back,” you say, already drifting away from him. “That one looks so gorgeous.”

He gives a lazy wave, staying behind as you disappear into the crowd. You don’t mind, Luigi isn’t one to follow you like a lost puppy, but after about ten minutes, you realize he hasn’t joined you. You scan the crowd for his figure, but when you don’t spot his curly hair towering over everyone else, you frown.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

Luigi appears by your side, hands behind his back. A casual smile rests on his face, one you recognize all too well. You turn your back to the large, abstract painting you had been admiring. He has his hands behind his back, but you pay the detail no mind, shrugging.

“Just taking it in,” you say, turning your attention back to the painting. “Not everything needs commentary, you know.”

“Says you,” he teases. His arm brushes against yours as he leans closer. “But okay, I’ll let you have your moment.”

It wasn’t unusual for Luigi to stand so close to you in moments like these. But there is something about the way he shifts his weight, the way his eyes dart to yours and then back to the crowd, that causes suspicion to rise.

“What are you up to?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Who?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “just wanted to…” He trails off, bringing his hands from behind his back, revealing a bright bouquet of tulips. They bloom with color, bright with shades of reds, yellows, and pinks. Their petals are vivid against the otherwise muted tones of the gallery. They stand out. They remind you of Luigi.

The sight of them catches you off guard, mouth falling open. You barely have time to react before he holds them out to you. A soft murmur shifts through the room as people begin to whisper and exchange glances, turning their heads to look at you two. You accept them, holding them delicately by the stems, laughing.

“Luigi,” you whisper, cheeks flushing. “What are you doing?”

He takes a step closer, his height forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “Making a point.”

“A point?” you echo, clutching the flowers to your chest.

“I’m sorry you have to find out this way, (Name),” he begins, sighing dramatically. “I have a really, really big crush on you.”

Your lips twitch, before you burst into a fit of giggles, slapping his chest lightly. “Luigi, we’re dating,” you cry through your laughter. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he replies with no hesitation, grin widening. It’s so corny, cliche and sweet–you can feel your tooth ache. Your cheeks are burning, but you don’t care. The tulips feel a bit heavier with his declaration. You clutch them tighter, stepping closer to him.

“You didn’t have to make a scene, baby,” you say gently, although the small smile that lingers on your lips betrays your humility. Luigi knows you love the idea of romantic gestures.

“Of course I had to,” he says, tone lightening as he leans in to you. “How else could I have let everyone know you’re the most important thing in this room?”

Overwhelmed with love for him, you lift yourself onto your toes and kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper, fondly.

“I love you,” he says gently, kissing the temple of your forehead. With that, he steps back, arm slipping casually around your waist. The crowd gradually returns to their conversations, though a few people continue to glance your way with unmasked interest.

“Now,” he says, “let’s go find your friend’s painting before she accuses me of stealing everyone’s attention.”

“You did hijack it,” you say, but the warmth in your tone betrays you and exposes your appreciation. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it, baby.”

You shake your head, laughing as he guides you through the gallery. For the rest of the evening, the art fades into the background, eclipsed by the warmth of the man at your side.

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #angst #real person fiction #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x yn #fanfiction #free luigi #luigi mangione fluff #fluff #flower prompt #mrsmangiwrks

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heartfullofleeches · 8 months ago

Note

What if someone from "Sheep"'s old pack came back around and tried to expose them, maybe for joy in suffering or to get people to split away and have an easy meal?

Sorry if this read weird I'm tired as hell

(I doubt any of them would recognize "Sheep" after all these years, but here's what would happen if any predator tried to reveal "Sheep's" identity.")

[Warnings Physical Violence, "Sheep" has a panic attack.]

"How stupid can you lot be?"

No...This isn't real. It's all a bad dream, right? You'll wake up any minute now, surrounded by all your friends and neighbors you've yet to acquaint yourself with. Perhaps you'll finally join Rabbit on one of their picnics. Or maybe Swan can teach you how to play chess - surely he must be tired of you asking which piece is which every time you play.

Claws digging into the meat of your shoulders stake you within the world of this cruel reality. This isn't a dream. You can't wake up, even if you chewed your own tongue off and suffocated on the blood as every cell in your body screamed at you to do. It would save you the torment. Your mouth hangs open, ragged draws of air and the smooth, filed surface of your canines preventing you from carrying out the deed.

"A sheep? This thing?" The cackle he barks causes your knees to curl against your chest - body instinctively trying to make you as small as possible. What do you have to be do afraid of? If you weren't so spineless you could've done something by now. Everyone is going to die now, and they'll die hating you.

"I wouldn't be surprised if we grew up from the same pack!"

It won't be long now- the concern for their fellow neighbor bleeding away to further terror and confusion. Were you responsible for the recent disappearances? How long until you devoured everyone? Monster. Beast. Wolf.

The townspeople are in a frenzy. What should they do? If the wolf's claims are true.... No- That could be dealt with that. The most important thing was getting you away from him before he hurt you anymore. They're so many of them. It'd be easy, right? The thought crosses their minds, but no one dares to speak first. A rabbit grows annoyed of their hesitance. Whilst the town is bickering amongst themselves, you're laying there - cowering for your life as that wolf threatens to ruin it for you. It isn't fair. The knife in their basket was for cutting cakes for you to share...

"Liar....."

As the rabbit weaves through the crowd, another resident of the town returns home from her daily gatherings. Rocks weight the pockets of her dress - the shouts and panic from her fellow neighbors channeling miles throughout the forest. Scrambling to find the sharpest one, she throws it directly at the back of the wolf's head.

"You damned liar!"

The wolf staggers forward - a pitiful whine escaping you as his claws retract from your shoulder. Blood gushes from the back of his cranium, a sharp ringing in his ears bring him to his knees - landing center on the blade aimed at his stomach.

"About a week ago, Sheep and I found a robin's nest in my backyard.... They got all teary eyed when the last egg wouldn't hatch... Tell me.... Would a wolf do that?"

Rabbit plants their foot on the wolf's chest, twisting the handle of their knife as they rip it from his bowels. The wolf grabs into their ankle, using what little strength he has to shove them off of him. Mouse leaps onto him from behind, slamming another rock into the nape of his neck.

"Take it back! Take it back! Sheep isn't anything like you! How dare you accuse them! You monster!"

Stop....

Your voice is too quiet for any of them to hear. You doubt that'd stop them anyway. They'll kill him. He came here to do the same, but does that make it right? Strong arms lift you from the dirt floor - mindful of their antlers as they place your head to their shoulder. Mayor Moose always knew you best - hushing your sniffles as soon as they begin. Swan stands off to the side behind him, refusing to meet your eyes. He tucks the coat of his suit over the handgun strapped to his belt.

"I'm sorry..... I'm so sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" Swan still fails to look up at you. He knows if he does- there's the smallest chance he'll give into your pleads.

"Get some rest. You'll need it after the day you've had."

Carried away from the commotion, the defenses your fellow townspeople confess, the blood they spill so that your innocent is kept - the blood loss and sheer shock of it all lulls you into a dreamless slumber.

It's the best sleep you've gotten in months.

#yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere hybrid #hybrid reader #sheep reader #wolf reader

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ldysmfrst · 1 year ago

Text

American Mate - (3)

Following Instincts

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 3 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 4,279

Work count for Story: 12,632

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have Injury, Anxiety, Panic attacks, comfort, and Cultural differences.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

Outside the break room, Yoongi is in Alpha space, catching your scent of sweet peas as it changes into a moldy pea soup smell after the comment from the redheaded playmate. Turning with a low and threatening growl, Yoongi’s eyes have gone to his hybrid's bright golden-yellow cat eyes as he blocks you from their sight. Zeroing in on the playmates, tail raised and puffed out, tip twitching back and forth with a snap of irritation, making them all step back and quiet down.

Hearing you murmur something in his native tongue and then the frantic footsteps, Yoongi snaps his head to watch your fleeing form disappear into a room down the hall. Taking a quick look back at the playmates, office staff, and then his pack, Yoongi huffs and quickly follows you, unable to fight his Alpha instincts.

The rest of the BTS packmates follow their bonded one closely behind as they feel his need to protect you from the others in the office. Namjoon catches Yoongi by the shoulder, stopping him from attempting to enter the room where you sought refuge. The rest of the pack forms a barricade around their Prime Alpha and packmate, who has entered Alpha space. They all are standing on guard, facing the rest of the people in the office, watching closely for any danger, and keeping the rude humans away.

“Yoongi-hyung, you need to give her space. Remember, she is human and might get scared of Alpha Yoon. What is happening? I need you to get enough control to explain what is happening?” Namjoon calmly speaks to his older packmate. Pushing out calming scents, trying to bring him out of his Alpha space with soothing strokes along his shoulder and back. “Can you come back and explain why you are protecting Miss Y/n?”

Barreling into the front of the group of observers with his tail bushed out and scent smelling slightly panicked and concerned, Derek comes up to the defensive line of BTS, “You have to let me get to her. You have to let me help calm down Y/n. Can’t you scent her distress? She is not doing okay by herself. You can even smell her over the scent-blockers! I am the closest thing she has to a family. Please let me in to make sure she is okay. Please.”

One of Yoongi’s black jaguar ears twitch back, hearing the urgency in Derek’s voice. He looks at Namjoon, takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. After a few seconds, he turns to Derek with normal dark eyes, taking in his shifty behaviors and now partly distressed scent.

Shaking his head slowly to Namjoon, Yoongi steps between his packmates and face-to-face Derek. “You are the closest thing to her family?”

“Yes, she and I were hired together when they decided to start this branch. We work together and spend time together at my den or her apartment. I do my best to protect her from situations like this because of her past,” Derek shares with a furrowed brow. Then he glares at the snobby-faced Playmates and says, “I normally try to keep her away from the Playmates in general so things like this do not happen.”

“She is only here today because there was no convincing her otherwise. Since in the meeting yesterday with your manager and what was said on the phone, she thought it would be disrespectful if she were not in attendance,” explains the fidgety hybrid.

Looking Yoongi in the eye, he continues, “She was bullied a lot before, and while it is not something that is okay, unfortunately, it still happens to this day. I really tried but I couldn’t do anything to keep her away. She had to be here even with little to no sleep because of her nightmares.”

Bowing slightly but keeping an eye on the pack, Derek demandingly pleads, “Now, please, Mr. Min, please let me pass. Everyone can smell that something has happened. I think she is hurt in more ways than one.”

The last comment got the attention of the whole pack on him, and everyone looked concerned. Several eyes flashed as their hybrid halves showed their displeasure with the news. Yoongi continued to fight his Alpha instincts with a deep growl and even breaths.

“How can you tell?” Namjoon asks from next to the door. He can smell the scent left in as you ran through the hall, but it tells him nothing for a few reasons: 1. He has never smelt Y/n and 2. Not all scents are pleasant to start with.

“That moldy smell, like veggies gone bad?” inquired Derek, watching the pack of hybrids start sniffing, searching for the smell, and scrunching their noses once it hits. “That is why I know something is not right. Y/n, her scent turns like that when she is hurt. I am not sure if it is just emotional. It could be physical, too. I can’t tell how bad it is because the scent-blocking measures she took for your arrival are still dulling it down. Now again. Let me in to help my friend. I may be a Beta but she is a pack member and I will protect her.”

“Fine, but I am going in with you. I was the one who knocked into her and failed to keep her from falling. My Alpha instincts have gone haywire, and I need to protect her,” his eyes glaring back at the playmates, “from certain people here. Most of all, ensuring she is okay and make amends for my mistake,” Yoongi states without room for argument, moving to the side, nodding to his packmates to make room for them.

Once the two are through, the pack retakes their defensive stance, keeping everyone else out. They understand where their mate is coming from as they also want to keep the group of Playmates away from you, their disgusting words looping through their heads.

Namjoon shuts the door for privacy and protection while he stands guard just outside, with one ear listening to what is happening inside the room and one ear on the rest of the office. His mind racing from the powerful wave of rotten scent that has built up in the room.

The scent-blocking measures no longer mask your distress and pain causing your scent is much more robust in this room. This makes Derek and Yoongi to whine at the smell and quickly move to your side.

Derek pulled you into a tight embrace, pushing his scent out and over you and scenting the top of your head while murmuring soft, reassuring words. Yoongi comforts you with his own calming scents, pushing down the desire to pry you out of Derek’s hold to take you into his own. Much to their relief, your tears slow, and your breathing calms after what feels like hours.

“Derek, my nightmares, they came true. I ruined everything. I should have stayed away like you and Evie said. I should have been looking where I was going. Reina was right. The one with the black tail, did I hurt him? He... He tried catching me. Me! I weigh a ton,” you ramble as your panic is still racing in your mind.

At that last comment, a deep growl resounds throughout the room. It takes half a second to realize it is not from the hybrid holding you. Catching your breath and snapping your mouth shut, you cautiously peek through your hair to look behind you to see none other than Mr. Min Yoongi, who turns out to be the owner of said black tail, now snapping to and fro with irritation.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath, your mind racing to figure out a way to get out of this situation without causing any further damage and how best to word your resignation letter.

“Miss Y/n, let us address a few things. Firstly, you do NOT weigh a ton, nor will you ever refer to yourself in that manner again. Secondly, I am not injured, nor could you injure me, as I AM an Alpha in my own right and am stronger than I look, even if I am not the Prime Alpha of the Bangtan Pack,” declares the hybrid, his eyes flashing a different color.

You shrink down to try to make yourself smaller. Seeing your reaction and realizing that his Alpha is trying to be in control again, he takes another deep breath to calm himself, looking between you and Derek. He can almost hear his Alpha stomp around his head, demanding to get you out of the other hybrid’s arms and keep you as his.

After a few controlled breaths, Yoongi says, “Lastly, would you be so kind as to allow my Alpha to inspect you for injuries? I came out of the observation room door unannounced and ran into you. I tried to prevent you from falling, but we are close in height, and I could not do much other than take what I hoped was the brunt of the fall.”

Turning more towards him but still staying in the safety of Derek’s hold, you look at him with confusion. “Your Alpha? Like your hybrid-side is not yourself?” Looking over your shoulder at Derek, you see him with a smirk and a chuckle on his lips.

“Missy here,” Derek looks at Yoongi, “has never met an Alpha male before. I am a beta, and her best friend is an omega.” Turning his attention back to you, “Unlike Evie and I, an Alpha has an inner animal that they can change into fully at will and it allows them to go into Alpha space to assist in protecting, hunting, and mating.”

You look at Yoongi with wide eyes, “You turn into a black cat?”

“I am not a black cat,” he huffs in annoyance, eyes flashing a different color briefly. “I am a Black Jaguar hybrid, and I am trying my best to keep him at bay because he can sense that your emotions have calmed down, but you are still in pain.”

His eyes roam over your figure, stopping when he notices you are cradling your right wrist. Standing up and motioning to a nearby chair, he asks, “Please, can I inspect you for injuries? I can see you are being careful with your right hand.”

With a gentle push from behind you, you move to the chair Yoongi gestured to. Derek also stands up but keeps his distance, watching how the two of you interact.

Yoongi kneels before you, “I have to let my Alpha see for himself. I promise he will not harm you. Mr. Gulley can attest to that at this point, my Alpha would have much rather hurt himself than you.”

Glancing at Derek, he nods with a knowing smile while taking a seat a few tables over, so as not to interfere. Taking a moment to collect yourself, running your good hand through your hair and fixing your shirt, you look down at the hybrid.

With a slight smirk, he looks at you with kind eyes, “Miss Y/n, please allow me to check for injuries. You have no reason to be nervous. You look perfect as you are.”

Blushing slightly at his words, you nod and tuck your hair behind your ear again. You watch him closely as his dark brown eyes slowly change into a stunning golden-yellow color, with the pupil elongating into a pointed oval. His ears and tail moved this way and that, never quite settling in one position for very long. Your scent turns slightly back to sweet peas as the sight makes you smile softly.

Cautiously, Yoongi kneels closer to you to become within reaching distance. Taking your left ankle gently in his hand, he rotates it, bends your leg at the knee, and sniffs at each joint. He repeats the process with the other side as well. Finding that nothing in your legs seems to be hurting, he looks at your face again with a short, pleased chirping sound.

Scooting a little closer, he reaches out to your left hand, bends your elbow, feels along your fingers one by one, then rotates your wrist and again seems to sniff along the joints.

You fidget in your seat, knowing what comes next will hurt, but you don't know how the hybrid in front of you will react. Noticing your movements and the slight change in your scent, Yoongi wraps his tail around your ankle to offer support. A slight sense of pride fills him when your scent calms down at his gesture of comfort, even if you do not realize it.

Taking your right hand, he follows the same steps, pausing slightly before he rotates your wrist. You let out a yelp of pain and bite your bottom lip as you try to pull your hand out of his grip, which only causes him to hold it just a little bit tighter with one hand while the other quickly reaches to the nape of your neck to bring you into an awkward hug. Your head is now resting on his shoulder with your nose breathing against his neck, your good hand going to his side and gripping his shirt.

Once the pain has dulled, you realize you smell the rain, not like fresh rain but like petrichor or the earth after a good downpour. It is comforting and relaxes you even more until you hear a soft chuffing noise and remember who you are smelling.

Pulling away, you shyly look back at Yoongi, still observing you with golden-yellow eyes and holding your wrist firm but gently. “Umm... I think I just landed on it wrong. Just some ice and pain meds should be okay. I will be good as new tomorrow,” you say with a false smile, trying to play it off as no big deal.

However, Yoongi’s ears flatten, and his feline eyes narrow at you while nodding down to your wrist. Following his line of sight, you now see that your wrist is slightly swollen and is covered with a lovely purple color. “Okay, maybe I won’t be as good as new tomorrow.”

Derek stands up and approaches the two of you to see the damage done. Taking a sharp breath, he looked at Yoongi and froze, noting that the Alpha was sternly watching his every move.

Outside the breakroom, Mr. Johnson, the director of PMS USA, was informed there was an incident and is now standing with Manager Sejin outside the BTS barrier. He had ordered Reina and the other playmates to be escorted back into the conference room by some other staff.

To say the Playmates didn’t attempt to excuse away their behaviors or tell a specialized version of the story would be lying, and BTS’s reaction quickly caused them to shut up and hide in the room like they were told to in the beginning.

Mr. Johnson had hand-picked you to be the friendly first face of PMS because you light up any room you walk into and are always willing to put in the extra time to help make things perfect on or off the clock.

“Hello, I am the director, I really should go in there and make sure my employee is okay, Manager Sejin,” Mr. Johnson states, glancing at the members of BTS as they continue to block the door and growl at anyone who walks near them.

“Why are they not letting anyone near the door? I am sorry. I know about hybrids from the symposiums and conferences but rarely interact with many. I typically leave that up to my staff,” says the director, glancing over at the hamster hybrid.

“Namjoon-ssi, do you want me to answer that, or would you like to?” Manager Sejin asks while watching Mr. Johnson. Namjoon redirects his attention from the breakroom door to the seemingly incompetent human before him.

Taking a few slow steps forward, Hoseok takes over guarding the entrance. Namjoon comes to stand with his pack, but nearer to Mr. Johnson and Manager Sejin, he says, “Mr. Johnson, we are a pack. More so, we are a pack of Alpha hybrids. Ranging from prey to predator types. We are a bonded pack on top of that, which means it’s all or none. We all are protective of something or someone if one of us feels the need. When one of us is hurt, we are all hurting with them.”

Looking at each of his packmates, Namjoon is filled with a sense of pride. Though they don’t know the extent of what has happened, they still support their mate to the best of their ability in a foreign country without question.

“Yoongi-hyung is feeling protective of Miss Y/n because of a few things. Miss Y/n is injured because of an accident caused by hyung. She is not in a good emotional state because of your Playmates’ behavior due to the same accident,” the Prime Alpha says as he looks back at the Director, trying to maintain a more neutral expression to hide his disdain for the women now in some office somewhere.

“As an Alpha, our animals require us to hold ourselves to a higher standard than other hybrids or humans. We like to try and ensure those around us are happy. With a very select few, we want to make sure they are also healthy and protected, among other things. In Yoongi’s Alpha space, he has failed to meet these standards when it comes to Miss Y/n. It is now beyond his control, so to speak, to do anything other than fix his mistakes and ensure Miss Y/n’s safety, recovery, and happiness. This means the Bangtan Pack is now responsible for the same.”

“Oh well. Um. I see. I can reassure you that Playmate Services has a good doctor who can tend to her if she needs one, and of course, she can have the rest of today and even tomorrow off. No need to make a fuss,” says the director, trying to dispel the sense of doom he is feeling due to the power emanating from the six remaining Alphas.

A deep growl rips from behind Namjoon, causing everyone to look and see that Taehyung's eyes are flickering crystal blue. His scent of burning ebony wood crashed over the pack.

Speaking through gritted teeth, he glares at the director, saying, “You seem to be in over your head, Mr. Johnson. Your company is built for hybrids, and you have hybrids working for you, yet you know nothing. Your incompetence is allowing bullying. From what one of your staff says, it has been happening for quite some time and yet you do nothing about it. Did you not hear our Prime Alpha tell you that she is ours now. We will take her to get treated by our medical professionals. We will take care of her to ensure she heals properly and regains a better state of mind. Not. You.”

“Hyung, it’s okay. Calm down, please. We don’t need two of you in Alpha space right now. It will not help Miss Y/n or Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook says as he steps up next to Taehyung, scenting his neck gently as his snickerdoodle scent pushes out, causing the blue to flicker to stop and remain his natural dark brown.

With a last glare and a mumbled, “Pathetic, oblivious, 리더십이 부족한 사람, human.” He moves closer to Hoseok and, in turn, you. Jungkook quickly follows in an attempt to keep the high-tempered White Southwest African Tiger calm and get closer to you as well.

“You may have misunderstood me, gentlemen. I have tried to deal with the playmates and their disrespectful actions towards Y/n and some of the other staff. Sadly, Reina is the top female pick and brings in a lot of money. Since we are the newest and smallest branch, the corporate office wants to refrain from taking any disciplinary actions for fear that she will quit. They think that any of the office staff are replaceable, whereas reliable Playmates are harder to find,” Mr. Johnson explains.

“Mr. Johnson, while that may be the case prior to today, their bullying has gone too far. Manager Sejin,” Namjoon says, “I believe it would be wise if the director took care of the bullying by the playmates and joined them for the time being. We need a few moments without interruptions to assess what is happening and how the Pack will move forward with this office, if at all.”

Dismissing the director to be dealt with by Manager Sejin, Namjoon walks back to the door, which is now being guarded by Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook. The scent of snickerdoodle, ebony wood, and lilac mix together with the pack scent of vanilla underneath.

“... can’t tell?”

“Can’t tell what?” Namjoon asks the small group.

“Hobi-hyung can’t tell,” replies Jungkook while Taehyung nods in agreement.

“The boys say that their Alphas are reacting to Miss Y/n but I can’t tell if mine does or not. You spoke to her, stood right in front of her. Namjoon, can you tell?” questions Hoseok with his arms crossed and hip cocked to the side.

“Oh? Hmm, I guess I haven’t really paid attention. After what happened with… you know who… I guess I have been pushing my Alpha to the back as much as I could. I have been focusing on taking care of you guys, my mates, first and I couldn’t do that with him pacing in my head so much. She really tore Yoongi-hyung, Jimin-ah, and well you, Hobi, apart inside with what she said,” reflects the Prime Alpha.

Namjoon started thinking back to hearing your voice, full of determination and strength, over the phone yesterday. Your care, intention, and respect for the pack that you have shown today. It would be simple to say that his Alpha was at least comfortable around you, and from how the pack’s scents have been, he wasn’t the only one who was.

“My Alpha is comfortable with Miss y/n, but I wouldn’t say that he is reacting in any particular way.”

A soft whine leaves Jungkook before he says, “Why do the older mates always walk with blinders on? Huh! You need to really let your Alpha look at her. My Alpha hasn’t wanted to look away from her since we walked into the office.”

“Joon-hyung, I am with Kookie on this one,” Taehyung nods, still in the bunny hybrid's hold. “While I wasn’t drawn in right away, I trust Yoongi's Alpha not to react this way with just anyone. So, when he ran after her, I was the closest one to the door, and before the pack’s scent took over, I could smell vanilla with something rotten. At first, I thought it was a candle or something, but I looked around. There are no candles.”

Taehyung’s comment on smelling vanilla caught Jimin and Seokjin's attention. Turning to join the conversation while trying to maintain the barrier, Jimin speaks up, “So it wasn’t just me. When Yoongi-hyung and that man went in, I smelled vanilla with almost a compost-like smell. After that, my Alpha wanted nothing but to keep everyone, human or hybrid, away from this door. He is really fighting to be at the front.”

“I figured that our muscle bunny was just leaning into his instincts of being a bunny when he was speaking about Miss Y/n in the conference room. Yet it didn’t explain to me why my Alpha felt awkward at her bowing to me when I spoke to her before going into the room,” adds Seokjin with a stern but thoughtful look.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Hoseok moves away from the door slightly, his expression confused and frustrated. “Are you telling me that you have all had some kind of reaction from your Alphas for the human lady behind the door? Some of you smelled vanilla, too?”

Nodding, they all look at Hoseok and then at Namjoon, waiting for them to come to the same conclusion. After a few tense moments passed, it was like a lightbulb went off over Hoseok’s head as his lilac scent burst with more hints of rose and vanilla.

Everyone now focuses on Namjoon.

Namjoon’s head is racing over every moment that has happened since walking in the door. As Prime Alpha, his responsibilities for the pack are more significant than others, and with what the boys are hinting at, the next few moments will change so much.

“Her reactions were top-notch with our pack, and her showing an exceeding amount of respect to the packmates could be just her professionalism,” he thinks aloud, trying to find a non-life-changing reason for the situation only to be met with more whines and a few soft growls.

Looking up, Namjoon makes eye contact with each of his mates before continuing, “However, only the vanilla scent can mean one thing which won’t be easy for the human woman.”

Taking a deep breath, the pack turned their attention to the door.

“We have an American Mate.”

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@braveangel777 @bethanysnow @smileykiddie08 @kayways @danielle143 @nenefix-on @im-gemmy @fluffy-canada-pancakes @juju-227592 @levislifeline @carolinexkpop

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