#I’m too young to be getting too old for this:(

[romanreignsbae]

Baby Daddy - J.U

A/N: just in favour of our very own main event jey uso winning the royal rumble!!! well deservedly! haters can suck his dick!!

warnings: smut & fluff (hope y’all enjoy!)

Another weekly exchange took place at your home per usual. Every Tuesday Josh would come and pick up your son Elijah until Wednesday evening. Due to his hectic road life, he really only got a day a week to spend time with his son. Josh took every single moment he got with his son, and savoured it. The problems you two had could never come in to say that Josh wasn’t an amazing dad.

Your son Elijah, was the best thing that ever happened to the both of you. You and Josh were high school sweethearts. You never once thought you would get pregnant with his child..at least not anytime soon. But in your last year of college, with a simple week of morning sickness, emotional breakdowns, and crazy cravings, you found out you would now be eating for two. And from there on out it was history.

Josh was ecstatic he was gonna be a father. From a young age he’s always dreamed of being an amazing father. He was even more happier when he found out the two of you would be expecting a boy. He was already picturing throwing around a football with his son, and teaching him all about his samoan family lineage. And even you were ecstatic.

You delivered a healthy baby boy, whom was loved by all the family around him. However for you and Josh, your relationship only weakened from that moment on. Josh was in desperate need of a job, and because of his family background, he turned to wrestling. As much as wrestling was looked at as a glamorous job, it wasn’t all that it seemed. Josh was constantly on the road, and even when he was home, he would be on interview calls or hitting the gym. You on the other hand, were just as busy as Josh. The two of you were constantly on the go and never has time for each other. So you both decided it’d be better if you broke up.

Well, it was you who broke up with Josh. It took a lot of guts to do so, but it had to be done. It was for the better…it seemed. Josh could never take the words ‘broke up’ to his heart, so he used ‘on a break’. You thought it was a immature and delusional way to deny reality, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Dada!” Elijah squealed as Josh walked through the door of your home. “Hey buddy! My mini uce!” Josh spoke back with just as much excitement. Your 2 year old son, ran on wobbly legs towards his daddy. You smiled at the sight. Josh handled Elijah on one hip, while turning to you.

“What’s up Y/n..” he spoke while Elijah was grabbing at his face. “Hey Josh, how are you?” you spoke back nervously avoiding eye contact. The truth was you’d never gotten over Josh. The road broke you two apart, also breaking your heart at the same time. You love Josh with your whole heart to this moment. He was your first kiss, your first boyfriend, your first time, and now the father of your child. When you broke up with him, you only broke your own heart too.

Now 2 years later after breaking up with him, you still want him more then ever. “I’m doing alright. Busy ya know. Well ima take Eli…i’ll see you tomorrow when I drop him off..” he told you while turning towards your door but not before grabbing Eli’s bags. “No! Mama! Come with us!” Elijah screamed out while kicking his feet all over the place.

Josh let Elijah down on the floor and he wobbled over to you. “Mama! Come with us to dada house! All of us!” he spoke on the verge of tears. “Baby..it’s dada’s time with you, i’ll see you tomorrow..” you spoke softly while caressing his little chubby cheek. “Please mama!” he cried out. He had never acted this way before.

“Baby..” you started speaking before getting cut off. “Y/n, I don’t mind if you come with us, you know it’s been a while” Josh cut you off. “Yay! See mama come with us!” Elijah then squealed. You thought about being with Josh for a long period of time, and it made you nervous yet excited. But for your baby, you would go.

“Okay, you guys wait in the car i’ll be there in a minute” you spoke softly. After grabbing your bag and some stuff you would need, you made your way out of your home locking the door behind you. You made your way into Joshua’s car, sitting in the passenger seat.

The car ride to Josh’s house was about a hour away, including the busy traffic. Josh blasted music the whole way to his house, to avoid the awkward silence. Elijah was dosing off in the back, and you took small glances at Josh when you got the chance. You felt him staring too, which only added tension.

Without either of you speaking a word to each other the whole ride, you made you way inside Josh’s beautiful beach side mansion. “Wow Josh! This place is beautiful!” you spoke astonished. He smiled at you. “Thanks...coulda been yours too..” he mumbled the last part thinking you didn’t hear. You did hear, loud and clear, which only added to your regret of breaking up with Josh. You knew he missed you, and you knew he still wanted you. You just couldn’t bring yourself to admit the fact you were still in love with him.

The evening was spent with you, Josh, and Elijah playing board games together, sitting together eating dinner, and ended with watching ‘The Lion King’ all together on Josh’s massive L shaped couch.

“He’s asleep” Josh spoke quietly. You looked down to your side to see Elijah fast asleep. “Yeah he is” you agreed. “Lemme go put him in bed, wait here.”

You waited for Josh, wanting to know why he wanted you to wait. You should be back home right now. ‘Aight..” Josh mumbled walking back into the living room, making his presence known.

He sat beside me on the couch and waited a minute before talking. “Y/n..ion even know where to start, there’s so much I have to admit to you..lemme start off by saying, I miss you, a lot.” he admitted.

You softly smiled. You were happy Josh admitted this so now you could get everything off your chest. “Josh, you don’t even know how much I regret breaking up with you back then..we were just in such a bad place and I was so scared that you’d find someone else while you were on the road, and truth is i’ve never stopped loving you..” you admitted.

He smiled at you showing off his pearly whites. “I love you too baby” he leaned in and your lips met for a soft kiss. You felt him grab your hips and pull you on top of his lap. While sensually kissing he moved your hips on top of his in a circular motion, creating friction. You gasped in pleasure softly.

You could feel a tent beginning to grow under you, adding to your pleasure. Josh groaned out. You took charge and pulled back from the kiss. “Life your arms up” you mumbled out of breath. Josh complied, and you took his shirt off.

“You sure?” Josh asked. You needed this desperately. After you broke up with Josh, you had no time to be with anyone sexually, and you missing him didn’t help the matter. “Yes, im positive” you spoke back.

You felt Josh’s hands roaming your clothed body, and he began stripping you piece by piece. Your body shivered at the sudden contact with the cold air. You were now left in only your panties, as Josh was left in his boxers. He once again moved his head down towards mines and shared a passion full kiss. Our tongues fought for dominance in which he won.

He broke away from your lips and peppered kisses on your jaw, then moving to your neck. You were surprised when you felt him sucking extra hard on your sweet spot, even after these few years, he remembered where you were extra sensitive.

“J-josh please!” you squeaked out. He continued his assault on your neck, and you swore you could feel his lips curve into a smile. “What you want mama?” he mumbled. “You..”

He pulled back from your neck and peppered kisses down towards your chest. He grabbed one of your breasts and massaged it in his large hand.

He then lowered his head down and softly took your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it lightly. You let out a moan to the feeling of his mouth. He did the same with your other breast and peppered kisses down your stomach.

He continued his kisses down to your thighs, once in a while biting down softly causing you to squeal. He was purposely denying the spot your body craved him most. Josh always knew how to drive you insane before finally giving into what you wanted.

He slowly slid your panties off in one swift motion exposing your core to the cold air. Your body was now covered in goosebumps hence the chilliness of the room.

“Missed this pretty pussy..” he mumbled while running his finger through your folds. “Yeah, yeah whatever just-” you were cut off by his head suddenly being pushed between your thighs and his mouth hungrily devouring you. You moaned out in ecstasy. You had almost forgot how talented Josh’s mouth was matched with your lower set of lips.

He sucked hastily at your clit almost sending you over the edge. You began grinding your hips onto his face, causing him to pull away quickly. “Baby if you gon cum its gon be on this dick” he spoke with deep chuckle. You whined at sudden loss of warmth from your lower region.

Josh chuckled at your neediness. As he took off his boxers revealing his hard length. You felt so touch deprived, as you moaned out into the chilly air of the room evoking a deep chuckle from him. “I gotchu baby, I gotchu..”

The tip of his dick slowly stretched you out as you almost practically screamed at the amazing sensation. Josh continued entering inside you at a steady pace allowing you to adjust to the now unfamiliar feeling. Your eyes were droopy as you looked up to see him with his mouth open as his eyes were also fluttering shut. “Damn baby, you always so tight for me, just for daddy..” he barely choked out.

Once he was fully inside you, he began thrusting into you at a very slow pace, prolonging the beautiful orgasm he knew you were on the verge of having. “P- please, daddy..please faster” you asked quietly barely being able to speak.

Without warning Josh began moving at a speed you could barely keep up with, causing you both to moan loudly with pleasure. “We gotta keep it down baby..we don’t want Eli wakin up” he spoke while not once slowing his pace.

The familiar feeling began brewing inside your lower belly, tingling all around signalling you were close. “I’m almost- i’m gonna” you choked out on the verge of tears. You forgot how intense sex was with Josh.

“I know baby, I know..” he mumbled while moving his hand down to playing with your clit sending you straight over the edge. “Fuck Josh!” you wailed as he held you down with his arm as you convulsed.

He continued chasing his own nut at a severe pace, which was slightly overestimating you. Before you could get a word out you felt his warm speed paint the walls of your now swole pussy.

He moved off you, lying down on the couch beside you gathering you in his arms before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I love you baby, and I want us to be a family this time, for real.”

“Mmm yeah me too, love you Josh..” you whispered as sleep overcame your body, while you slept in the arms of the man you have always and always will love.

[reikoinoue]

warnings: manipulation; caleb is a red flag but i’m color blind.

thinking about the first day you ever met your new big brother in the wake of your mother’s remarriage.

his name was caleb, and he was the only child of your new father. standing at least five inches taller than you, you were only 8 while he was 10. his magenta eyes and chipped tooth grin made your heart skip beats, making you hide your face further into your mother’s leg. still feeling so shy despite celebrating her marriage, you constantly hid behind her each time your new brother or father appeared.

your mother always found your shyness to be endearing, yet she knew that you would need to get used to your new family members eventually. this is what lead to her and your new father going out on a nice date, leaving caleb alone with you. the panicked expression on your face when you tried to convince her to take you with her fell on deaf ears, yet you were too upset to care.

you didn’t see caleb’s hurt expression, but even if you did, you were too young to make sense of it.

yet still, your mother remains achingly gentle with you, promising you that your big brother was a good kid who will always take care of you. in the end, you were left alone with your big brother who always made you nervous, watching with wide as your mom left with your new dad to go on a much needed date.

you stand frozen in the middle of the foyer, eyes going wide when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your front.

“c’mon, pipsqueak, mom and dad left us some money to order pizza. don’t ya want to order some pizza?” you look back at your brother and his crooked grin, feeling a strange heat settle across your cheeks when you manage to give him a tiny nod in response.

he playfully ruffles your hair before leading you back into the living room, ordering your favorite cheese pizza as you found yourself slowly warming up to caleb and his crooked smile.

when your parents came home later that night, they found you and caleb asleep on the couch with the television on and a half empty box of pizza. caleb’s tiny fingertips were interlocked with yours, and your parents couldn’t have been happier at how much closer the two of you had gotten in such a short amount of time.

♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡

you are 14 years old, just barely starting your first year of high school while caleb was in his junior year. you twirl your hair and frown at your reflection in the mirror, not liking the few acne spots that appear across your cheeks and forehead.

still frowning at your reflection, you move a bit closer to it, wondering if you should pop all of these annoying zits-

a sudden knock on your door breaks you out of your daydreams as you gasp, looking behind you to see your big brother step into your room. he wore a plain white shirt with a pair of basketball shorts, doing little to hide his muscular physique as you felt the familiar heat dye against your cheeks.

puberty has blessed caleb in all of the right places. he had some muscle mass, and had grown a few feet in height as well, now managing to tower over you with ease. meanwhile, you were left with the pain of monthly menstruations and skin that was prone to developing acne.

“it’s rude to come in so suddenly, caleb.” you turn your back to him, ignoring the strange fluttering in your heart as you went back to assessing yourself in the mirror.

“what’s gotten your panties in a twist, pipsqueak? and why are you glaring at your reflection?”

you sigh and rub your hands against your cheek, “with all of these pimples, no one is going to even want to kiss me.”

from your periphery, you saw the way caleb stiffens suddenly, catching sight of the way his fists clench and unclench from the mirror. “someone caught your eye at school, pipsqueak? if so, what’s his name?”

you swallow thickly and immediately shake your head. “t-there’s no one, caleb. i was just-“

“just what?” your brother suddenly takes quick strides closer to you, turning your seat around so that you could face him. anger paints his handsome features when you felt his fingertips run down the side of your face. you shiver in response to his almost reverent touch, swallowing thickly when he sweetly whispers to you, “if you wanted to be treated like an adult so badly, why didn’t you just say so?”

that was his final warning before you felt caleb descend upon you, capturing your lips in a kiss that makes you gasp. being inexperienced, you felt your teeth clashing together with his, unsure of what to do the moment you felt your big brother sliding his tongue across your bottom lip. the sensation of his saliva coating your lips makes you gasp, opening your lips without meaning to as caleb slides his tongue inside of your mouth.

your mind was screaming that this was wrong, that your brother shouldn’t kiss you like this-

yet why did such a sinful act make your heart soar?

your whimpers and the way you pound your fists against his chest was what made caleb pull away from you, his eyes going hazy when he sees the string of saliva that connects you to him. licking at his lips, caleb harshly grips at the top of your head, “no boy will ever be good enough for you. and if you tell mom and dad about our little secret, i’ll simply call you a liar. now, who do you think they’ll believe? a little girl who fills her head with silly daydreams, or their son who’s the perfect student that makes all a’s?”

you remain silent, yet the fear in your eyes was more than enough proof that you had understood your big brother.

“good girl.” he coos at you, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead while promising to bake you a nice apple pie for your good behavior. and as he leaves your bedroom while silently closing the door behind him, you realize that your big brother had more twisted desires than you could have ever imagined.

♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡

you had just turned 19 and pretended to be the obedient daughter, cleaning up all of the dirty dishes with caleb before excusing yourself after drying the plates.

still feeling caleb’s gaze burning at the back of your head, you quickly ignore the lingering sensation as you ran back into your room, closing the door for good measure as you waited for the hours to go by.

taking out your phone, you see a text from your best friend, confirming your plans of sneaking out so that you could meet her at the party. even with having an overbearing and protective brother like caleb, you were determined to start living your own life-

without the need for caleb to taint everything.

so, you sat in bed waiting for the perfect moment, not daring to move when you heard your parent’s footsteps return back to their room. watching the time on your phone, you didn’t hear caleb’s lumbering footsteps until it was close to midnight-

and that was the moment you made your move.

stuffing a few extra pillows beneath your comforter, you made sure to make it look believable before sliding open your window, with you climbing out of it as your ballet flats hang precariously over the ledge before you let go. you prepared your body for the impact of the ground below you, only to gasp when you felt a strong pair of arms wrapping around your waist, capturing you as a harsh voice whispers within your ear, “where do you think you’re going, pipsqueak?”

“caleb!” you fight against him, but every movement was met with resistance (with your pathetic punches barely making a dent in his demeanor). with his eyebrows furrowed, your brother carries you back into your shared home, eyes filled with a determination and another expression you couldn’t quite identify.

you keep writhing against him, only to feel caleb’s large hand cover your mouth when he locks the door and carries you back to your room. he finally releases you, causing you to land unceremoniously back in bed. “what is your problem, caleb? why can’t i go out and have fun with my friends?!”

“because they’re no good for you.” caleb’s voice was even when he turns the latch on your door, securing it as he locks himself inside the bedroom with you. “i told you before… if you wanted to be treated like an adult, why didn’t you just say so?”

he faces you, gripping at your ankles as he forces you to lay back in bed. your heart begins to pound, yet you were unable to fight against him any longer.

lately, he had been busy at the academy. he had big dreams of working at the fleetspace military, which meant that he seldom came home anymore besides the occasional weekend visit. knowing that he was due to be home this week, you set up your plans and made sure to make it seem like you were sneaking out to go to a party-

and your big brother fell for it- hook, line, and sinker.

his large hands grip at your miniskirt, tearing it off of you in one swift motion before spreading your legs. you felt him slide off your panties, allowing it to hang against your ankles while caleb tosses aside your shoes before diving into your wet heat.

you felt his tongue tracing around your pussy lips, making you cry out as your hands automatically delve themselves into his hair. his groans vibrate around your cunt as you trapped your legs around his head, practically grinding yourself against his lips. when he manages to add a finger inside of you, capturing your swollen clit within his lips, you nearly screamed in response, forcing yourself to bite down on your bottom lip to keep your parents from finding out.

seconds later, you felt the familiar snapping sensation within your abdomen, releasing yourself into caleb’s awaiting mouth as he willingly drinks up all you had to offer. letting out a grunt of your name, he presses a kiss against the side of your thighs, making you feel his clothed erection as it brushes against you.

with a haze expression, you sit up and pull caleb closer to you, hands shyly going into the confines of his shorts as you stroked at his shaft. you felt the way he shudders from your touch, but manages to grip at your wrist, stopping you from stroking him any further. “later, baby, right now, i need to feel what it’s like to be inside of you.”

his sinful admission makes you shiver in response, with caleb picking you up before setting you on your bed. he takes off the rest of his clothes, taking out a foil package from the pockets of his shorts while pushing up your shirt. with his proud erection settled between his legs, caleb tears open the condom with his teeth, sliding the ring of rubber down his shaft before settling himself between your legs.

he hides his face within the curve of your neck, holding your legs wide open for him with a free hand before guiding his cock within your entrance. when you felt something large and thick intruding inside of you, you cling to the sheets while tears dotted your vision. your brother was just too big!

he softly coos at you, whispering sweet nothings within your ear before fully sheathing himself inside of you. not liking the sight of you in pain, caleb keeps your hips still before switching positions, somehow managing to lay back in bed with you now straddling him.

“ride me whenever you’re ready to, babygirl.”

you clench your legs around his waist, letting out a soft moan when you felt some of your fluids trickling down his length. this was the first time caleb had ever done this to you, and he had filled you so completely that you swore you could see the outline of his cock settled against your abdomen. you had no idea how much time had passed, but when there was a sudden ache coupled along with the need to chase the same high your big brother had given you with his lips-

you began to sloppily bounce up and down his cock, gasping and mewling softly at the new sensation while planting your hands against his broad chest. throughout it all, caleb whispers words of encouragement to you, praising you for taking him in so well and how you were always going to be a good girl for him.

due to how you were both each other’s first times, you came within a few minutes of riding caleb, feeling an unfamiliar twitch when he releases his seed inside of the condom, sitting up to give your lips a searing kiss, “good girl, you’re always going to be my good girl, isn’t that right?”

you were given little choice but to drunkenly agree with him, leaning into the palm of his hand as you were certain you held hearts in your eyes for your big brother alone.

♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡

you are 23 and caleb is 25 now, with him purchasing an apartment in skyhaven while allowing you to live with him under the pretense of attending university-

while in all actuality, you remained locked in caleb’s bedroom, with him taking care of your every need as you were finally allowed to bask in the forbidden love you shared.

your moans and the sounds of the king-sized bed squeaking in tune to caleb’s passionate thrusts makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. his large hands were felt gripping at your bouncing breasts as he pounded his cock into you. “you’re mine, baby, all mine. you’ve been mine ever since the moment i first laid my eyes on you.”

you had no idea the amount of times caleb had made you cum, filling your womb with his seed as your mixed arousal sticks to your walls and his cock. yet even when he had taken you over and over again throughout the night, it seemed as though your big brother would always have an appetite for you-

a fact that you didn’t mind one bit.

a.n. - an unedited and unhinged, hedonistically sinful thirst post.

all stories are written by reiko; no plagiarizing, reposts, or translations are allowed.

[archangeldyke-all]

hii idk if you’re still writing the cowboy sevika fics but i’m actually obsessed with them you have no idea!! anyway i was thinking a fluffy little fic about sevika being depressed after shimmers death and reader, vi, and jinx do their best to cheer her up/support her!! do whatever you want i’ll literally take anything i just love your characters so much🙏🙏

YEEHAWWWW i miss cowboy sevika

men and minors dni

it's been a month since you and your girls buried shimmer by your garden. not a night has passed where sevika hasn't cried herself to sleep in your arms. it's breaking your heart.

watching shimmer die was hard enough. you were never much of a horse person before meeting sevika's trusty mare, but shimmer converted you. before sevika settled down with you; one of your greatest comforts when she was out wandering the desert was that she had shimmer there with her. the horse was so in tune with sevika, and they'd been riding together for so long, that they practically moved as one. you worried less about sevika losing her mind when she had shimmer to listen to her rambling. you worried less about her losing her life when she had shimmer to run her back home to you if she ever got too beat up.

and as sweet as sevika is when she claims you're her best friend-- you know that title really belongs to shimmer.

"we should do somethin' for sev." vi mumbles one night. jinx is fast asleep between the pair of you, after insisting she wasn't tired for an hour straight.

"like what?" you ask.

vi shrugs. "cait and her dad go hunting sometimes."

you giggle. "you're crazy if you think we're giving jinx a gun."

vi laughs. "no, no, we wouldn't hunt. we could just, y'know, go camping or something. there are some cold springs thirty miles west of here."

"and how would we get there without a horse?"

"we could borrow one of grayson's." vi suggests.

you smile and turn to face her. "you've been planning this?" you ask. she smiles guiltily.

"sevika's just been so sad. i wanna cheer her up."

your heart bursts with love and you dart forward, squeezing jinx between your body and vi's as you attempt to hug her. vi giggles. jinx wakes up with an annoyed groan.

so, a week later, you, your wife, and your girls set out with a horse drawn wagon and one of grayson's newest additions: a young colt named 'teddy.' grayson was happy to lend you the horse, muttering something about him being a pain in the ass to train. "if there's anyone i know who can get through to a stubborn horse like teddy, it's sevika." she sighed.

the ride out to the springs is rocky and bumpy, sevika getting used to riding a horse that isn't shimmer-- teddy being an ass just for the hell of it. at least the girls find it fun. their giggles and squeals are the soundtrack for your entire ride to the springs. even with all the curses she's spewing at teddy, sevika looks more relaxed than she has in weeks back on top of a horse.

"what're we even gonna do once we get there?" jinx asks. you snort and ruffle her bangs.

"well, i'm going swimming. you losers can do whatever you want." you say. the girls giggle.

"do you think there are cliffs we can jump off of?" vi asks. you shrug.

"i'm sure we can find some. we've got a whole river to explore."

"none of you are doing any exploring until we set up camp and get a fire going." sevika huffs from on top of teddy's back.

"boo! boring." jinx whines.

'setting up camp' ends up being sevika building the tent and jinx feeding teddy while you and vi attempt to make a fire the old fashioned way.

"how did the cavemen ever do this?" vi huffs as she rubs two sticks together. you snort.

"i'm sure they had tools. blubber to make it catch better, or something."

vi rolls her eyes. "i don't understand why she won't just give us her lighter."

you laugh and look up at sevika as she wipes her sweaty brow. "she doesn't trust us not to burn down the whole riverbed."

"or she's just bossy." vi mutters. you cackle.

"i think you're right, kid."

you don't make it into the river on your first night, but you don't mind much. when the sun sets, the heat of summer fades and the cool dark forces you all to squish together on a log in front of the fire while sevika cooks up beans and weenies on the fire.

"is that a planet or a star?" vi asks. jinx looks up and hums.

"i think it's venus."

"yeah?"

"i think so. sev?" jinx asks.

sevika glances up at the sky, smiling proudly and ruffling jinx's bangs. "you nailed it, kiddo."

"what constellations are out tonight, sev?" jinx asks, tucking herself under your wife's arm. sevika hums, leaning back to study the sky.

you don't bother to look at the sky. pretty as the stars are, they're nothing compared to the sight of your three girls, cuddled together and illuminated in the firelight.

"follow my finger. you see those three stars close together?" sevika whispers, her voice melding with the crackle of the fire and the roar of the river.

"yeah." vi whispers. jinx nods against sevika's shoulder.

sevika drags her finger across the sky. "see how they lead into a cross? there?"

"is that the northern cross?" jinx asks. sevika nods, her smile growing.

"you know it. anyways, the cross is in the center of cygnus the swan. backbone of the milky way." sevika's eyes flick down and catch yours, and she smiles shyly. you grin. there are more stars in her eyes than in the whole night sky.

you spend the next day in the river with the girls, laughing and splashing and squealing when fish nibble your ankles. vi and sevika ride upriver to try to find cliffs to jump off of, and you teach jinx how to doggy paddle. when the girls return, they're soaking wet and cackling.

that evening, with the girls fast asleep in the tent, you and sevika smoke a joint and go skinny dipping.

"did you have fun with vi?" you ask, your arms and legs wrapped around your wife. sevika giggles against you.

"i shouldn't tell you." she says. you giggle.

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"means she almost jumped onto some rocks several fucking times. gave me a heart attack."

you groan, shaking your head. "no, you shouldn't've told me." you agree. sevika giggles.

"but, we both lived, didn't we?" she asks. you laugh.

"y'know we're gonna have to adopt teddy from grayson?" you ask. sevika snorts.

"what makes you say that?"

"jinx is obsessed with him. braided and un-braided his mane like six times today. calls him 'teddy bear.' plus..." you trail off.

sevika darts forward to kiss you. you hum against her lips. "plus?" she asks, her lips brushing yours.

"plus, you need a new horse. you look good in the saddle."

sevika hums and kisses you again. "you take such good care of me. how am i supposed to keep up my bandit appearance when i got a wife that talks me into adoptin' horses and takes me out on vacation?"

you laugh. "you haven't been a bandit in half a decade. and the vacation was violet's idea. she was worried about you."

sevika sighs and leans forward to rest her forehead against your shoulder. "you still take good care of me." she says. you kiss her scalp.

"well... y'know. you're my dingus the duck."

"your what?!" sevika asks with a cackle. you groan and shrug.

"i dunno, those stars you were talking about last night!" you whine.

"cygnus the swan!?" she asks. you nod.

"that's the one."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" she asks though her laughs. you snort.

"y'know. you're the backbone of my galaxy, or whatever."

sevika's teasing expression melts, stars sparkling in her eyes. "that's awfully corny, darling." she whispers, her voice shaky with emotion. you smile.

"what the-- what are you two doing?!" vi squawks from the riverbank. you and sevika giggle guiltily, caught by your kids canoodling in the cold springs.

"go back to the tent!" you shout.

"awe, gross, are you guys naked!?" jinx whines.

sevika snorts. "we all bathed together three hours ago!"

"yeah, but you guys weren't all up on each other-- vi, let's go before we overhear something nasty." jinx groans, tugging on her sister's arm.

violet laughs and stumbles behind jinx. "don't drown!" she calls.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

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taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[zeroseuniverse]

please give haneul's dad a love life 😔🙏 he's miserable, I can hear him sighing all day and night and I don't even live nearby. please help a young nurse be well fed with fluffy warm pancakes in the morning 🥹🥞

please make a silly old anonymous reader happy by writing a part 2 of "My Dad is Single!" ☝️

You ask and you shall receive my darling Asks are my number 1 priority so I typically try to only take 2-3 days in writing them, I enjoy providing what my readers want so I hope this came out in a timely manner for you!

My Dad Is Single II

S.Coups had no idea how he ended up here.

One moment, he was just a devoted single dad trying to survive his six-year-old's chaotic antics. The next, he was standing in his kitchen, flipping pancakes while Nurse Pretty—sat at his dining table, chatting with Haneul like they were old friends.

Haneul had orchestrated this whole thing, obviously. After her legendary text message, she had laughed it off but agreed to come over—"just for pancakes," she had said. But from the way she kept smiling at him over her coffee, he knew she was enjoying his flustered state way too much.

"So, Haneul," she said, resting her chin on her hand. "Tell me—why are you so determined to find your dad a girlfriend?"

Haneul sighed dramatically, like this was a burden only she could bear. "Because Appa is so lonely."

S.Coups groaned from the stove. "I am not—"

"He sighs all the time," Haneul interrupted. "Like, so much. And he watches sad movies at night."

She smirked. "Ah, the sighing. You told me about that before."

"Right?!" Haneul threw her hands up. "It’s a problem."

S.Coups turned around, pointing a spatula at his daughter. "You’re making me sound like a tragic drama lead."

"You are a tragic drama lead," Haneul said, dead serious. "But don’t worry! This is the episode where you find love again."

She burst out laughing while S.Coups slumped against the counter, defeated.

"Unbelievable," he muttered for what felt like the hundredth time.

"You say that a lot," She teased, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Because this keeps happening!" He gestured at Haneul, who was happily munching on a pancake like she hadn’t just thrown him under the bus.

She just smiled. "Well, I have to admit—this is probably the most unique way I’ve ever been asked out."

S.Coups nearly dropped the plate he was holding. "Wait—was this… an ask out?"

she tilted her head, pretending to think. "Well, I was invited to your house. You cooked for me. There’s a cute child who’s very invested in our future. Sounds like a date to me."

S.Coups blinked, completely thrown. "I—uh—what—"

Haneul leaned forward and stage-whispered to her , "He’s shy."

she grinned. "It’s cute."

S.Coups groaned again. "I am not shy!"

"You’re blushing," Haneul pointed out.

He pressed a hand to his face. Oh my God, I am.

She reached for a pancake, her smile softening. "Relax, S.Coups. I’m just teasing. But… I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. If that’s something you’d be open to."

S.Coups stared at her, completely caught off guard. He hadn’t expected this. At all. And yet, with Haneul beaming up at him and her looking at him with those warm, patient eyes, he found himself… considering it.

Slowly, a small smile crept onto his face. "I guess… I wouldn’t mind either."

Haneul exploded into cheers, nearly knocking over her juice. "YES! Finally!"

she laughed, and S.Coups couldn’t help but chuckle too, shaking his head.

"Unbelievable," he muttered one last time—but this time, it felt different. Lighter. Like maybe, just maybe, his little drama lead moment was turning into a rom-com after all.

[solargeist]

Can Xelqua use his powers to avoid Grian’s Eyes? I’m imagining Xelqua getting mad at Grian or Grian getting mad at him and so Xelqua runs away for a bit and Grian panics because he can’t use his Eyes to find his kid

Oooooh ! Thats a funny idea, tho i always imagine the Eyes as like... spectator mode..? So Grian would have to already sorta know where Xelqua is to find him with the Eyes. Weird eyes just zooming around the map, x-raying, night vision....

Xelqua doesn't exactly know what hes doing with his Watcher powers, a lot of it comes just from his emotions since he's so young. If he's upset enough, maybe he can block Grian's eyes with his own ? Maybe ? He definitely has more than him.

Typically when Xelqua is upset with Grian, he'll tattle to Mumbo, or any close Hermit, its usually quite childish !

Grian has gotten really good at not getting mad at Xelqua--at least not showing it. This was different in the beginning of course, before he adjusted. Back in season 9 he'd often get annoyed with him and overwhelmed then. Which... I think could be a fun turning point in their dynamic.. Grian and Xelqua getting mad at each other, Grians exhausted and just not in the mood to go play outside or whatever, he snaps and uses the Good Ole "Because I said so !" argument towards Xelqua. Xelqua stomps his little feet and goes off to pout while Grian sighs heavily in a chair, he does feel way over his head, he really has a kid now ? He's practically still one himself ! Sorta, it feels like it sometimes.

Xelqua would gather courage while he's pouting, Grian doesn't ever let him go out, its not fair, he's always busy and rarely funny. Xelqua quietly goes out the door as soon as he hears Grian go to the bathroom or something.

Xelqua is not quick, he has tiny legs, he doesn't make much of a distant, but he's small, so he disappears quickly behind or under things.

Grian's panic is amplified by his Watcher instincts, losing sight of something--of a child--its a suffocating feeling, no matter how he felt moments ago. His little house in s9 is surrounded by water, he hates using Watcher magic, but theres no choice here, little purple eyes shoot out in every direction as his mind imagines the worst possible outcomes. Xelqua immediately catches the feeling of Eyes and its scary ! So against his own will, his own Eyes block Grian's. (Which doesn't help Grian's panic at all) Xelqua's instincts will always protect him, he's small, he's 5 years old, but the Watcher part of his brain is still watching out for him. Even though Grian is no threat to him, the Eyes feel scary, so they have to be blocked.

When Grian finally spots Xelqua, he uses his wings to propel himself forward to scoop Xelqua up. Xelqua barely has time to react. Grian lands a few steps ahead, still frazzled and holding Xelqua in his hands, his worry pours out mistakenly as anger. Where have you been ? Don't you know how dangerous it is here ? Grian realizes he's accidentally shouting and bites his tongue. He lets go of Xelqua and hugs him instead, which is probably the first time he's held him so tightly before while on the ground. Xelqua doesn't really know how to react to this, he thought he was in trouble, but ..? A little confusing !

Xelqua had probably JUST found a Hermit too, who was patiently and politely trying to get him to stay still while they contacted Grian. They can tell from Grian's reaction that Xelqua was definitely lying and did not get permission to walk around by himself (what a surprise)

Seeing Grian so stressed out probably pushes a few Hermits to ~gently remind Grian that hey.... you know you can always text us when you need help with him... any time !! any ! time !

Its a turning point for their dynamic, and a learning experience for both

[marsbutterfly]

Nerd Hanji head cannons??? Absolutely smart and top of her class no social life? Pulls Y/N??? Erwin, Levi and Moblit are like is Reader blind???? Fluffy nerdy shit I eat that up and let me tell you I’m STARVING

Headcanons: Nerd! Hanji Zoe

a/n: i've had these ready for about a week or so but for some reason i haven't posted them? idk, but i do hope you enjoy heh i had fun.

warnings: none. this is pure fluff. | tagging: @wizzy21

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has been your close friend since the two of you were young. They were always a bit awkward and going around studying frogs or collecting rocks, but you were always following closely behind with a pencil sharpener and a box of band-aids.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who used to tutor you in their free time. Their favorite subjects had always been the most difficult ones: chemistry, physics and math. So they would always do everything in their power to make the subjects more interesting or, at the very least, easier for you to understand.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has done your homework for you more times than you could count. Some times because you were sick, some because you were getting frustrated and aggravated and some of them in exchange for some of your baking. So they would sit on the kitchen counter as you would bake them cookies, cakes, whatever they were craving that day.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has always been class president for as long as they were allowed to run. They were constantly trying their best to make sure everyone in class was happy and also having their concerns being heard. They ran unopposed for over five years, mainly because there was nobody else who could have done a better job than them.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who deletes all of their social media every time they have an exam coming up. No matter how many times you tell them that they could easily just delete the app, they will not listen to you because they say they're tempted to just "download it" again.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has had a crush on you for years but never did anything about it. They wanted to ask you out for so long but didn't for two reasons. Number one is that they didn't think you felt the same way and, number two, because they wanted to wait until you both got to college and had an idea of what you were looking to do for the rest of your life.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who was the joke of the group multiple times but they still couldn't understand that they were being teased for your feelings about them, not the other way around.

❀ Nerd! Hanji Nerd hanji who excels in absolutely everything that they do but are completely oblivious to your feelings for them until you straight up kiss them after a day out together. You were already considering it a date, they thought the two of you were just hanging out before college started. They didn't complain one bit, though.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who doesn't pay attention to how they look, especially when you go out together. They will keep their hair in a messy ponytail, wear the same pair of old crocs and the same taped pair of broken glasses.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who gets you a scholarship to your dream college so the two of you can study together. They will change their entire life plan that they have had since they were a child just to spend time with you, much to their parents' dismay.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who constantly helps you study for your exams because they have absolutely nothing to worry about for themselves and they want you to achieve only the best you can.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who set the curve for the grades too high so they are lowkey disliked by most of their classmates. They don't really care though, the only person they care about is how you feel about them. And you love them to bits.

❀ Nerd! Hanji has an internship at a very prestigious laboratory and is already being considered for a full-time position by the time they graduate.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who constantly sends you pictures of funny looking bacteria they find. They find random shapes and immediately whip out their phone (which they are very much not allowed to do but they get so excited that they can't help it.)

❀ Nerd! Hanji who constantly needs to buy new pens and pencils because they are often biting the back of it or the cap. They have come home with blue or black ink on their lips more times than you can count on one hand.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who sometimes forgets to eat so you always bring them food regardless of where they are. They always blush and tell you not to trouble yourself with these kinds of things but you can't help it. Knowing that they are using all that brain power with no fuel makes your heart ache. So you always give them extra food and water.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who tilts their head when they are thinking about stuff. They do it regardless if they are at work or if they are at home. So you just know they could be looking for a bacteria in a sample or for the extra block of cheese in the back of the fridge, the look is the same.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who doodles your name all over their notepads over and over, to the point where they have to force themselves out of that mind space, otherwise they can't focus.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who looks at you and only you. No matter how old the two of you are, they are always in love with you. And they are always yapping about some video game or book, not that you mind, of course. You never did.

[365emotionlessfaces]

This is going to be a 10 part fic 🙃 I wrote it for entirely selfish reasons, but if you guys enjoy it, even better.

Melissa meets a girl at The Aspiring Teachers Program, but she’s just a kid. Many years later, she meets you and wonders if she should let go of the past.

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 1 WC~1.5k

Melissa was thirty-five and going through a nasty divorce from a nasty man. She had been in the teaching game for a decade now, and the last thing she wanted to do was volunteer for some Aspiring Teachers Program. Well, second to last. The redhead supposed that the only thing worse would be to be spending the week in the same house as Joe.

When she had told her friend, Barbara from work, the woman had just laughed and said that she had quit going to those things years ago. Too much hullabaloo for her liking. But Melissa needed out of the house, so she decided this would be the first and the last time she signed up for this stupid program.

The end of the school year came faster than Melissa would have liked, and by the second day of summer break, her suitcase was packed and she was on a flight to Chicago, of all places. The stupid program chose a new city and a different mix of teachers every year, so there was no guarantee you’d get an invite. To Melissa, that didn’t sound like too bad a deal. Yeah, sure, she’d have to be around a bunch of eighteen to twenty year olds, answer their questions, try to get them interested in teaching, and she was definitely not thrilled about that, but it beat what was waiting at home. Plus, it was all expenses paid.

When Melissa’s taxi pulled up to the camp, the literal camp, she started to think maybe she shouldn’t have come. It was very… rustic. Looking around, she realized that this thing was a lot bigger than she had anticipated. There must be at least a hundred people walking around. She noted the woman with the bullhorn seemed to have a sense of calm in the chaos that looked to be surrounding her. As Melissa exited the taxi, the bullhorn lady could be heard calling out names and assigning them to cabins. She rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long week.

As she stood amongst the crowd, but far enough back that she had a healthy amount of personal space, she listened for her name. A girl hollering off to her left made her turn her head to see the hubbub.

“Yo, Tie-Dye Girl. A little help here!” A young girl of probably twenty or so, stood in front of a giant pile of duffel bags and suitcases and waved to a woman in her forties wearing a campy tie-dyed shirt, who promptly turned on her heel and came to the girl's rescue. Melissa rolled her eyes.

“It’s giving Parent Trap,” a voice from Melissa’s right jolted her away from the tie-dye scene and to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed teenager that stood beside her. The shock of the girl being so close startled Melissa so much, she let out a small yelp.

“What the hell are ya doin’, kid?” Melissa snapped. “I coulda killed ya.” The girl was not affected by Melissa’s harshness, or if she was, she certainly didn’t show it. In fact, Melissa was sure she saw the girl’s grin grow wider before she replied.

“Sorry,” the girl was radiating happiness and cheer, and it was almost enough to make Melissa sick. “You were standing here all alone, so I thought I’d make a friend.” The girl’s smile was so bright and strong, Melissa wondered if the girl ever stopped smiling. “It just reminds me of a movie from when I was a little girl.”

“You’re still a little girl.”

“I’m young, sure, but I’m almost twenty,” Melissa huffed at the girl’s response. Her smile still hadn’t faltered.

“Listen, I’m not a good friend, okay? So why don’t ya go make friends with those guys over there?” The redhead pointed randomly in the crowd, hoping the young girl would get the hint and leave her the hell alone. She wanted to enjoy this week as much as she could, and having a thorn in her side would not make that task easy.

After the young girl kept trying to make conversation, and had gone so far as to introduce herself, Melissa felt obligated to at least give the kid a name.

“Em,” she had told her. When the girl asked for her full name, or even her last name, Melissa joked with her. “What are you? The cops? If you’re the cops, you gotta tell me!” The young girl laughed and seemed to leave the matter alone after that.

Melissa had gone to the restroom, and when she returned to her bags, the young girl and her bags had gone. She took that as a small blessing and continued to listen for her name. Once given her cabin, she trudged her way to it, bags trailing along with her. She pushed through the cabin door, looked around the room, and thanked her lucky stars that the remaining bed free of luggage was the bottom of one of the two bunk beds. She’d be damned if she had to climb a freakin’ ladder to get to bed!

She unpacked the clothes and most of things she brought, and headed to the mess hall where the first meeting would be held. This would be where Teacher Buddies would be assigned and Melissa got to find out who she’d be spending the next two weeks with. Melissa was considered a Veteran Teacher, despite the fact that she was only in her mid thirties. She supposed it was due to the fact that the older teachers knew better than to come to these things. Since she was of the higher rank, she would be assigned to an Aspiring Teacher. One of these fresh-faced little things that had their whole lives ahead of them, and they wanted to teach. Poor things.

When she entered the hall, it was all abuzz. It was worse than the cafeteria at her elementary school the day after Halloween. There were grown adults and young adults laughing and yelling happily alike. Despite all the noise, Melissa thought it was kinda nice to see a room full of happy faces. Even if she knew most of them wouldn’t last. She looked around and found a few faces that looked like they wouldn’t be too much trouble for the next week. She hoped that she got one of them.

She was approached by the bullhorn lady, only this time she didn’t have the bullhorn, and was told that as a Veteran Teacher, she would go up on the stage with the other Veterans and draw the name of their Aspiring Teacher. This idea was not as thrilling to Melissa as Bullhorn Lady was trying to make it seem, but she did it anyway. When it was her turn, and she pulled out the name that young girl from earlier had given her, she considered making up a fake name, and pretending that her Aspiring Teacher hadn’t shown up. Unfortunately, before she could enact that plan, Bullhorn Lady took the paper and read the young girl’s name out loud. There was clapping and hooting, and then there the girl was again.

She and Melissa made their way to a table in the back and sat down. Melissa looked at the girl as she made some comments about not believing in fate or destiny and some bullcrap about coincidences, and the redhead wondered why the girl would tell her something like that. The girl had that damn smile, still, and her eyes were… kinda shiny. Melissa wondered if she had been that beautiful when she was younger. Surely not, or she wouldn’t currently be going through a divorce.

“So, whattaya think?” The young girl asked, making Melissa snap back to reality.

“Sorry, Parent Trap. I wasn’t listenin’. Whadja say?” This time when the girl smiled, there was something else to it. The redhead noticed the difference, but couldn’t quite tell what it meant. Melissa had to work to focus on what she was saying instead of getting lost in her thoughts again.

“I was thinking that you could hit me with the worst of it first. Tell me all the horror stories about teaching, so I can steel myself for them now, ya know? And then if I can make it through those, maybe you can tell me why it’s worth it?”

Those plans were foiled before Melissa could be the one to break the girl’s heart. Bullhorn Lady announced that the week would be a series of competitions and games for the Buddies, and the free time at the end of the nights would be dedicated to asking and answering all the questions the Aspiring Teachers had. Melissa groaned. This is not what she thought this week would look like.

When she returned to her cabin after everyone was released from the mess hall, Melissa was surprised to see that not only was the young girl her Buddy, she was also one of her three roommates. ‘Oh, boy. This just keeps getting better.’ She decided that it was in her best interest to mind her business, and only talk to the girl when necessary. So she grabbed her pajamas, and changed in the tiny bathroom provided in the corner of the only slightly larger cabin. The air was warm for Chicago, which made Melissa very glad that she chose the outfits she did. When she returned to her bed in her light pink silk tank top and matching shorts, she was too focused on minding her own business that she didn’t notice the young girl’s eyes glued to her frame or how flushed the girl’s face had become.

Part Two

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Marriage Problems Chapter 3

Summary: They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon.  Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling.  Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives.  Can they get their spark back?  Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

Warnings:  language, forced kiss, eventual smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Bucky was putting his lunch in his lunch box when a rumble of footsteps came thundering down the stairs and he looked up as Y/N burst into the kitchen looking frazzled.  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” She asked him incredulously.  “Where are the kids?”

“On the bus,” he answered nonchalantly.

“What?” she sputtered.  “H-how…what do you–”

“They got themselves ready, lunches packed, homework done, and I made sure they were out of the house on time,” he said, smirking at her.  He grabbed a plate of food next to him and slid it toward her on the island, accompanying it with a mug of her favorite drink.  “I wanted to let you sleep.  Now sit down and relax.”

Y/N stared at him, the surprise evident in her expression.  She glanced at the plate of food then slowly walked over to the island, pulling out the stool chair and sitting down.  She grabbed the toast and took a bite.  “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky smiled.  He rounded the island and stood next to her, his fingers pulling her chin to make her look up at him.  “We need to talk about what happened last night,” he said, and her eyes fluttered in sadness.  “But, not right now.  I’m about to leave for work, but I want you to take today to do nothing.”

“Nothing?” Y/N frowned.

“Absolutely nothing,” Bucky nodded.  “Don’t you dare cook or clean, just rot on the couch and get caught up on your shows.  I’ve already got dinner set up for delivery later.  And we’ll have a good, long conversation about everything over ice cream.”

Y/N still looked surprised, but a small, happy smile crept up on her lips.  “Sherbet ice cream?”

Bucky huffed a laugh.  “Whatever my pretty mama wants,” he said.  

***

That night after the kids went to bed they sat on the couch downstairs, a gallon of rainbow sherbet ice cream between them that they took bites from as they talked about everything.  Bucky felt like they had come to a good understanding with each other, and they agreed to actively work towards reigniting their marriage.  

“Well, I have a work party next weekend that you can come to,” Bucky said.  “We’re celebrating that presentation going well and getting that client.”  He hadn’t told her about the bonus yet, wanting to keep it a surprise.  

“Oh you know I’m not a huge fan of work hangouts,” Y/N waved him away.  “As much as I love Steve, it’s just a lot of awkward moments for me being the odd one out on everyone’s work inside jokes and what not.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky smiled and nodded.  “Then how about the next day?  We’ll go out together, just the two of us.”

Y/N smiled.  “That would be nice.”

“It’s a date,” Bucky smiled back.  

***

That next Friday he found himself in a bar downtown.  He felt too old to be there, just keeping a watchful eye on the younger employees as he nursed his one and only beer for the night.  He and Steve took the time to catch up with each other, since they were both married, family men who didn’t get to hang out as often as they used to or would have liked.  Steve stood from the small table they were at to get himself another drink.  Bucky finished his beer, setting the bottle aside when someone else sat in front of him.

“Hey boss,” Natasha greeted him with a flirtatious smile.

Bucky inwardly groaned, but politely smiled.  “Nat,” he greeted her.  “Hope you’re having fun with the rest of the team.”  He had to tread carefully with her.  Natasha was young, beautiful, and had made it clear a while ago that her conversations with him were her attempt at flirty banter, sliding in sexual innuendos and compliments towards him.  He’d tried ignoring it, not playing into it with her at all, but she was nothing if not persistent and ambitious.  That was what made her a great part of the team.  He just wished she would take the hint.

“You look ridiculously hot, as usual,” Natasha said, maneuvering herself to sit closer to him, leaning forward on the table to show off her cleavage.

“Oh, um, thank you,” Bucky said, trying to lean away from her.  “You look nice.”

“Just nice?” Natasha laughed teasingly.  “Looks like I’ll need to up my game next time.”

Bucky’s lips tightened as he tried to subtly look for Steve to save him.  “Well, I don’t want you to waste your time with me—”

She reached a hand out and slid her fingers across the back of his hand.  “Oh there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, sir,” she purred.  

Bucky pulled his hand away and frowned.  “Nat, I’m not sure how else to say this without it sounding mean, so I’m just going to say it.  I’m married.  Happily married–”

“No you’re not,” Natasha smirked.  “You’re having marriage problems.”  She leaned forward again so she was close to his ear, the alcohol on her breath making him scowl.  “I can help you feel better.”

Bucky pushed away from her.  “Where did you hear I was having marriage problems?” he asked angrily.

“I could just tell,” Natasha shrugged.  “And Peter likes to gossip.”

Bucky rolled his eyes then closed them as he rubbed his face, and she took the opportunity to corner him against the wall, her hand holding the back of his neck and pulling him forward, kissing him right on the mouth.  Bucky froze in shock for just a moment before he pushed her away and stood.  “What the fuck was that?” he yelled.

“Hey, woah, what’s going on?” Steve asked, finally coming back over to the table with a new beer in his hand.

“She just fucking kissed me!” Bucky replied, wiping his mouth.

“Natasha,” Steve groaned, looking at her with deep disappointment.

“What?” she pouted.  “I’m drunk.”

Bucky shook his head incredulously as Steve sighed.  “Okay, it’s time for you to go home,” he said, pulling her up by the arm.  “I’m calling you an Uber.  And we’ll be having a discussion with HR on Monday.”

“What?  No!  I’m not ready to leave!” Natasha whined, pulling against his hold as he directed her toward the front door.  Bucky stood there in shock until Steve came back a few minutes later.  

“She’s gone,” Steve said.  “I’m sorry, Buck.  I knew she was flirtatious with you, I just didn’t think she’d do something like that, even while drunk.”

“Y/N,” Bucky whispered, his eyes wide as he looked at Steve.  “I have to tell her, Steve.”  Steve’s eyes widened with him.  

@cjand10 @sebastians-love @sherwoodforesttales @shanksstrawhat @sagexsenorita @abaker74

[vicky-0933]

Here is the story, just finished during class. Let me know what you think.

————————————————————————

My Flower Girl

“Here are Lilies” you say while pointing to them, the couple goes to them and looks, you smile, watching them talking about the flowers and, looking outside seeing how there is dirt everywhere, grabbing your cleaning supplies, you head outside, sweeping away the dirt and to take care of the flowers, putting the flowers in there places. As you were outside, you started to take in the view of the sky seeing the different colors, “Hello there sweetheart” a voice says to you, which surprised you.

Stopping what you are doing, you turn to see an older looking women with a pink dress that hugs her curves, “Oh hello, how can I help you” you ask, then soon you hear a ringing in your ears and she does too, she looks at you with a confused but stern look. You both don’t say anything, you don’t understand why that happened, she just looks at you. “Oh I just wanted to come see my new neighbor” she says chuckling, and you snickered, “Well I am glad you came to see me” you say.

You both start talking for a bit, she starts to talking about something until “Excuse me mam” someone says behind you, it’s one of your customers, “Oh yes how can I help you” you ask, they tell you which flowers they want to buy, “Oh yes, I will be right there” you say to them, they walk inside talking about other plants, you turn to the older women, “Would you like come with me” you ask and she nods.

Both of you walk inside, and you bring her over to the back of register, you help the couple buy their flowers, “Thank you, I hope you enjoy them” you say, they says thank you back and walk out of the store. “So, what got you into this business” the older women asks you, turning you say in a teasing manner, “Wow, I would like to have your name first before we know each other” you say.

She blushes, “Oh right well, I am Lilia Calderu” she introduces herself, you smile, “well nice to meet you, I am Yn Ln” you say putting out your hand, she takes it then gasp, you panic, pulling away and taking a step back, trying to figure what’s going on, then she stopped and just looks at you, “your a green witch” she say and you start to stutter, “I am- I umm I am” you nervously say, putting you hands on your head, “oh really, your young one are ya, well I am a divination witch” she says with a smirk and her hazel eyes go a bit dark.

You start to blush, “we-well I umm hello I guess” you say stuttering again, little flowers spring out of your head, she looks at you with a questionable look. “Umm hi” she chuckles, “how did you find out that you where a green witch” she asks but you don’t answer her, you close your eyes praying for it to stop, you both just stand there in, “you didn’t answer my question” Lilia say, you open your eyes looking at her with apologetic eyes.

“Oh right, well I started growing them out of hands and hair, which is weird, but non the less, that’s when I started noticing people come to ask me for flowers and then I started paying attention more” you say, putting you hands down, the little flowers showing and Lilia hums, “at some point, I started to get over welled with this power of mine, so I stopped for a bit, but then got back into it a few months ago. It’s been scary, I’m still learning about it” you finishing saying, and she just looks at you with pity.

She smiles, “well at what age did you decide to do this” she asks you, you smile “when I was 16, once I started to work on magic, and with flowers was the best way to help with my magic by growing them and what not, then I started growing a lot of flowers of different kinds and selling them to a few witches here and there, soon I knew I wanted to do a flower shop” you say looking around your shop. You make a fist with your hand and opening it to show a blooming flower coming out, and she gasps, you motion to her to take the flower and she does.

“How old are you” Lilia asks, while covering her face with the flower, you chuckle,”I am 300 years old” you say, “and you, how old are you” you ask, she sighs “450 years old” says. “You look good for a 450 year old witch” you and she blush, she takes a note and looks around from she is, taking in the view from the flowers, making the entrance look beautiful, she nods and smiles. Lilia feels safe, as if she was meant to be there, surrounded by the colors and smells, calming down.

“What are the best types of flowers for my type of witchcraft” Lilia says taking a step towards you, grabbing the desk behind you, you take a deep breath, “I umm I” you stutter, she takes another step towards you. You getting nervous, and looking around to see what you can tell her, so you thinking about something that might help you with the situation.

“Umm HERE, ummm I hear, over here” you stutter walking towards the foxglove, trying to get the flower to go away from your head but they won’t go away, she just look at you with a smug expression and laughs to herself and follows you, “Here are the foxglove, they are one of Europe’s prettiest wildflowers. Doctors in the 1780s, used this flower to make medicine, for it to treat heart failure. But they are extremely toxic, so I would handle them with extreme care.” You say, trying to calm yourself down from the experience before.

“Oh wow, that’s cool.” She says in aww, “Would you want this flower, or a non toxic one?” You ask nervously, and she chuckles, “I would want a flower that wouldn’t kill me” she says and you gasp, “right, right ummm over here” you tell, she follows you to the carnations, “Here yea go” you say while grabbing a bouquet of carnations and letting her grab one, “You know that these are native to Sicily, so I feel like these are good for you.” You say blushing a bit.

“Well, want to know something” she asks and you look at her, a little confused, “I am from Sicily, but I guess it has been so long since I saw how the flowers looked and now that you are here with the flowers, I can look at them again” she says in a low tone and you look at her a little surprised. You then look at her with awe, seeing her take in the flowers, starting to take in her features. The way that her hair makes her face look sharper, as you look at her you didn’t notice that she was looking at you.

She walks up to you, and puts her hand your cheek making you jump a bit. “You ok there sweetheart” she asks you and you blush and nod but you don’t do anything you both just stand there, looking into each others eyes, you see the way her eye colors change, “umm yes i am, miss i am just a but nervous” you say looking away, she doesn’t says anything but grabs your hand examining it, you don’t move as your blushes mess. Lilia lets go of your hand, and starts to walk around, you can feel flowers growing around your head making a crown.

Something that always happens when your nervous, stressed, or fluster, in this case it happens to be both. Lilia finally turns around and sees your crown, “Oh honey, that look beautiful on you” she says walking to you with a smile on her face, “oh umm thank you” you say looking away, she cups you face making you look at her. And something that has never been done before, you crown seem to be going to her, wrapping around her head and making a crown around her head.

“Oh wow that has never happened before” you say while she gasp, and suddenly you both feel a pull at your heart, Lilia smiles, pulling you in for a kiss, which surprises you, the kiss feels gentle and soft. You slowly melt into it, feeling your body get pulled into hers, how your body matched each others. Feeling her hands go down to your lower back, you wrap your her neck, bring her as close as possible, you both pull away from each other, you see the flowers wrapping around both your hands making them stay together.

“This has never happened before, I have no idea why this is happening” you say a bit nervously, studying your hands, Lilia doesn’t say anything but just stares at you, “do you believe in soulmates” Lilia asks. You turn to look at her, “Well kinda, I believe that it doesn’t exist but I never really thought of looking for them” you say feeling guilty. “Well when I looked at your palm, I saw you’ve meet your soulmate, and I think this is a confirmation. I think we found each other” Lilia says softly, you smile.

And without thinking you hug her which makes her gasp, “I never thought I would find you, now that I have, I will never let you go” you whisper in her ear, Lilia chuckles softly, hugging you back. She cups your face again and pulls you into a kiss again, this time it’s more dominant and hard. You let her take control over this, her tongue exploring your mouth, she pushes you against the well, “Umm Excuse me mam” you hear a voice say and turn and see someone standing there.

“I got my professor pregnant and I need to get flowers to say I’m sorry, and what not. So can you help me or can I come in an other time” The person says, and you sigh, “Yea sir I will help you, just pick out what you want and I’ll be there” you say and he goes. “I am so sorry, but let me help him and then I’ll close up and we can do whatever you want” you say and Lilia nods, you go and help the guy, “Alrighty sir your total is $12.99, and I hope you have a great day” you say, and he leaves. You sigh putting your head down, you feel hands on your waist, and a body come behind you, “Where were we, hmm sweetheart” you hear Lilia say.

————————————————————————

Hi y’all I will post a poll later to see what story will be posted next. See ya!!

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (13)

—  Pairing: Yoongi x ot6, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 9.5k

—  Warnings: Sexual abuse, Humiliation, Physical abuse, Dissociation, Ptsd, Psychological horror, Briefly thought about self-harm, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Confessions

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(48 days before, Yoongi).  

You pace back and forth in the entryway. Thinking hard.

It’s nearing 6pm and Geumjae is going to be home soon. But Yoongi isn’t here yet. Hadn’t come over to see you at all today and that’s strange. He texted you last night after he walked you home and dropped you off and asked if he could come over tomorrow too.

You’d said yes, but tomorrow is today now and the afternoon slips and passes you by with not even a knock at your front door. The house is empty down to the dust bunnies. Yoongi is usually a man of his word. He’s usually a gentleman.

Gentleman do not leave young ladies waiting.

You’d double and triple cleansed, there isn’t even any mascara on your eyelashes, not dark staining below your eyes beyond the deeply carved bags that have permanently etched themselves on your face since you’ve gotten married. It would be suspicious if you wore any today when Geumjae had explicitly forbidden you from leaving the house, from breaking your routine, while he was a city away.

Your husband is usually very very particular about your routine. But there have been quite a few breaks in it over the last few weeks.

Geumjae smelled like another omega when he came home last night. A scent cloying and sweet, neither the sweetness of flowers nor baked goods just a mindless sweetness. Almost perfume. There was even lipstick on his collar, bright pink like bubblegum.

You hadn't felt anything at all when you noticed, no revulsion or shame or regret, nothing but a tiny bit of relief.

You're not supposed to be relieved that your husband is seeing another omega, you're not supposed to not care. You only care about Yoongi and your meeting tomorrow. He's always on the other end of your phone, waiting.

Geumjae hasn't checked your texts in a long, long time. You're careful to delete all the ones you have with Yoongi after you read them. Committing the words to memory.

Procuring time for your meeting today had taken a fair bit of effort last night, questions about where he'd been and who he'd been seeing a carefully curated ruse. You were the picture of a pouting omega, bratty, expectant. Wondering where your husband had gone and if he'll be here tomorrow.

You're a good actress. You know if you don't pretend Geumjae only makes it worse.

“I’m not allowed to want to spend time with you now. Is that it?” You’d said with a pout, after your careful questions for Geumjae had drawn his suspicious eyebrow. And then tried again, “you keep me locked up in this house without anyone, I hate being alone.”

And that enough had made him grin, Geumjae doesn’t miss an opportunity to deny you again, to torture you in some new way. Isolation is one of his old weapons. Geumjae is only too happy to tell you that he’ll be indisposed all day tomorrow, probably until late. You'll get no respite from your loneliness, no relief and no companionship.

Good.  

You texted Yoongi, told him, and he replied with a little :] Face. Not the emoji, the :]. You haven’t felt so young in years, you certainly have never kicked your feet over a text message. You’ve never felt your age, not since you first put on your wedding ring and said I do.

But Yoongi makes you feel that, almost young, almost anxiety-free. Almost a lot of things.

But now, Yoongi makes you worry.

Usually when you know your husband is going to get home you hide yourself away in some corner of the house. You linger on the couch or the kitchen if you’re feeling brave. Either to fulfill the fantasy of the doting omega wife or hide away if the abuse the day before had been particularly brutal.

You certainly do not wait in the foyer for your husband to return home.

You pace back and forth, eyes on the driveway, waiting for the crunch of pea gravel. The cleaning staff and the private chef were dismissed hours ago. Dinner is in the fridge covered with cellophane. Granted, you’d waited longer than usual to text Yoongi. Longer than you maybe should have.

You (1:12pm): If you’re not going to show up, can you at least give me a heads up.

You (2:30pm): The chocolate lava cake’s gone cold.

You (4:04pm): I'm gonna make you eat all my desserts, even the pies, to say you're sorry for flaking on me. You're a flake, like a pie crust.

You (4:44pm): Yoongi?

You (5:30pm): Are you okay?

All of which had done unanswered, the messages don't even have the little delivered sign next to the text. This is uncharacteristic for him. Abnormal. An outlier in your dataset. A lump of something in sifted flour. You’ve paced back and forth for the last hour before making the decision, opening up a familiar contact. One that you've dared not text. Not since before.

You (5:57pm): I think I might need your help again.

You hit send, and then at the same moment, a familiar dark green sportscar pulls into the driveway. It’s engine a low hum. Any normal person wouldn’t have been conditioned to hate that color or feel fear at the sound of a car, but you have been. The sight of it sets you on edge, makes your heart beat quick but this time you don’t rush to hide yourself away, to be quiet.

Your hair stands on end in the entryway. You begin to tremble viscerally when you hear Geumjae tread up the steps, hear the turn of the lock.

Geumjae is whistling when he comes in, a jaunty tune. He doesn’t immediately notice that you’re standing there. You shy away from his presence and keep your gaze on the ground. You're so good at being still, at sinking into the backdrop. It takes him a few moments to notice you're there.

He lifts his head, eyes wide for a second and then narrowing. You don’t break routine unless you want something and if you want something you usually have to barter. Geumjae likes taking what you don’t want to give. His glare falls into a scowl, and he places his gun down on the small table just inside the door after he takes out his wallet and keys.

He does not click on the safety.

He shoves past you, almost knocking you into the wall. Your shoulder throbs but you follow him. He turns hand raised. You flinch and close your eyes, but the slap never comes.

Geumjae strokes down your cheek, fingering the hollow of your cheekbone. You blink and bite back the impulse to gag. Keeping your lips pursed.

“What. Do. You. Want.”

A bit of saliva hits your face but you do your best not to tremble.  His voice is devoid of emotion or empathy or even rage. That much shouldn’t surprise you. You look into his eyes, the same eyes that Yoongi has only empty. Devoid of their warmth or half-humor. Blank and flat. It takes all of your energy to be brave. But it’s easy to be brave for Yoongi.

“I think somethings wrong with your brother.” Your voice comes out as hardly more than a whisper, but it’s steady. “I think something happened to him.”

~-~

Yoongi’s knuckles are bloody, that’s the first thing that he’s aware of when he comes to.

Blood feels different than water, slippery, and dries quicker on his fingertips as he starts to fight his restraints. His fingers grip the wood, the handrail of the chair he sits in. He startles, a sticky feeling and the taste of blood in his mouth and throat. At odds with the sandpapery feeling of his tongue and gums. The inside of his cheek feels tender. He tongues it where he’s bitten it.

The room is dark, but he’s not alone. Coming out of a chloroform daze is dizzying at best and nauseating at worst. One second the figure is across the room, the next he’s right next to Yoongi gripping his hair and pushing his slack head away violently. Yoongi does not feel it, Yoongi is having a hard time feeling anything in any clarity. He watches as the man in front of him traces his knuckles with a knife, there are small cuts up and down his fingers already, Yoongi can see the bone on one of his knuckles but the rest are thin, almost superficial. They will still scar.  

Yoongi cannot feel the pain, Yoongi can hardly feel anything over the cold.

Panic starts to bleed down his back, just as the realization that he’s immobile. Bound to this chair by a crisscross of dark ropes. The scratchy kind, not soft. He struggles. But they’re bound too tight. Yoongi doesn't have anything on him, not a gun nor a knife, not that he could even move an inch to use it.

“For a second I thought I used too much chloroform. It’s good that you’re awake, now I can make it slow.”

The man is nondescript. Yoongi does not recognize his stature or his voice. Nor the color of his eyes behind the ski mask. Brown, but not dark brown. This person is surely a stranger to him and yet he laughs as though he's just won the lottery practically shaking with anticipation as he drags the knife down Yoongi’s cheek.

“Interesting how this has all played out. You in the chair at the end of my knife for once.”

Yoongi hesitates, the fuzz behind his eyes more indicative of drugs or a hangover rather than a concussion. The man grabs his hair, making his neck arch so he can trace the knife over his jugular.

"You better have a good way to get out of this." Yoongi spits, at least his words don’t come out slurred.

"I don't need a way out." The man hums deep. “I’m not the one whose about to die.”

“You think people won’t know? Come on, I’m watched like a hawk. There’s not a person in this city that doesn’t know where I am and when I’m gone. They’ll know, they’ll find out.” Yoongi’s pulse beats so quick he can feel it against the ropes that bind his body.

“You’re not some god, you’re just cut from the same cloth as your shit brother, and you'll get no fair trial, just like he got, you didn't even wait, you didn't even- piece of shit-” His knife presses under Yoongi’s throat, hard enough that if he breathes, he’s dead. Yoongi’s pulse thunders treacherously loud. A beat of sweat or blood drips down his collarbones. “This is for-”

Yoongi looks up at the sealing. Closes his eyes and thinks of Seokjin. Of the pack. Of Jungkook's curly hair through his fingers, the sound of Jimin's laugh. Taehyung's deep hum at nighttime when Yoongi curls up with him not to sleep but to dream and read. He thinks of Hoseok in the front seat of Namjoon's car. He thinks of Namjoon, his hands. Bigger than Yoongi's. Yoongi’s knuckles go white as he grips the chair and imagines the kiss of the knife against his throat is Seokjin’s lips instead.

The next breath that comes out of his chest goes easy,

The world explodes.

The metal door at the front of the room cracks open with a boom so loud it rattles Yoongi's bones. The room fills with the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Flashes of light bloom in the darkness. Gunshots. Something hot rips by his ear, barely nicking him. The chair explodes, and Yoongi feels at least one shard of wood bury it’s self in his shoulder.

And then it's quiet beyond the ringing in his ears and the figure is no more, lying on the floor in a bloody heap. A bloody heap that people step over. Black figures that half blend into the darkness. Shouting his name, shouting something that Yoongi can’t hear over the ringing in his ears.

Something bright tickles his face, silver hair, a discarded ski mask on the floor. Silver hair covers his face- Moonbyul?

There is another figure, smaller than her, wearing a bulletproof vest that doesn't fit, too big. It makes it hard for you to move but you still duck underneath a tall alpha to cup his cheeks. For a second, Yoongi even thinks it’s real.

Yoongi sags against your body weight. Saying something he can't hear through the ringing. Mouth moving around the words. Your lip- your lip is bloody again and the side of your face-

Yoongi tucks his chin into your shoulder. You're shaking. Blood drips down his ear from where the bullet nicked him.

Face wounds always did bleed a lot

Moonbyul looms over you, pushing you aside gently to cut him loose. The second that his hands are slack he grips yours, both of them in his. His blood slides across your hands. He can’t even speak, can hardly see.

Everything goes from muffled to too loud. Yoongi feels nauseous and tries not to vomit on to you. “It’s okay, Yoongi, it’s okay you're going to be okay-"

Yoongi presses his face against the side of your neck, breathing deeply.

You smell like cake. The fresh kind, just out of the oven, Neither vanilla nor sugary nor milk sweet. Somewhere between sugar cones and fresh bread. You smell like warmth.

Yoongi noses into your scent gland and his eyes roll back.

~-~

Yoongi is on the bottom floor of your house, not in the sitting room where you usually take your coffee and cookies and pastries, but in the grand dining room with the glittering chandelier. It’s nearing 4am and he feels like he’s so tired he could scream.

There are more medical supplies on the table than can be found in the typical small city emergency room, and more opioids too as the family doctor checks him out after stitching up his ear and the cut on his knuckles. The rest are too shallow for anything more than band aids and cream.

But still. Yoongi’s hands are basically sort of wrecked. If it weren’t for the painkillers, he doubts he could move them at all without serious discomfort.

She shines a light in Yoongi's eyes. The family's on-call doctor is paid handsomely for her ability to keep quiet and produce a mostly sterilized mini operating room in any of their kitchens, backrooms, or dens. Yoongi’s seen her remove many bullets and knives in his lifetime. He’s even seen her re-inflate a collapsed lung in a parking garage. She's familiar. Her face pinched in concentration and concern.

There are some people like her that the family keeps on retainers, not a part of the family, not officially but inexorably tied to them. Like the hitmen and the crime scene cleaners that dispose of evidence. She technically doesn't belong to a single house. They're subcontractors in their world, underworld temps.

An emergency meeting of the heads of house has been called, and they gather, looming over Yoongi like a menacing set of helicopter parents or maybe vultures intent on picking him clean.

Geumjae is wearing gloves, black, leather maybe? Or are they plastic? he’s always particular about leaving fingerprints. Certain things have never been trained out of him- even if he’s no longer doing any dirty work.

Yoongi knows better. Geumjae crosses his arms, watching Yoongi.

He disappeared a moment ago, into the other room. It had taken everything Yoongi had in him not to go check on you. He had heard Geumjae's audible command. "Go change and clean yourself up, you're getting blood all over the sofa. And come back down, we're not finished yet."

Geumjae is angry, Yoongi can smell it in the air, probably because it's Moonbyul who was the savior and the hero of tonight. She's the one who actually tracked Yoongi down, who organized the hit on the unoccupied warehouse where he was stored. She gets many appreciative touches to her shoulders and a few approving nods. But her silver eyes remain fixed on Yoongi, not cold, but still calculating.  

You'd gone to her, must have. If you were there when he was found, no one mentions your name. No one congratulates you. It irks him. If he was more awake and less dulled from painkillers right now, he'd probably say something.

“I don’t understand how this happened or why. He’s a beta, he can’t be killed.”

Moonbyul's omega- Hyejin, the only omega in attendance turns back to them, whip-sharp. Correcting her. “Anyone can be killed.”

The head of house of the Miyazato family drops to his knees in front of Yoongi and takes his hands in theirs. It takes everything in his self-control not to rip his hands away, now bound with thin sutures. "I promise Sajangnim, we'll find out who did this and dispatch them swiftly."

The others clamor to offer similar supplications. "I'm prepared to offer 20 men to rotate outside the cottage so that you'll never be alone Beta-shii."

"The 59th precinct is at your disposal, give the order and we'll comb the streets."

"Why would you comb the streets Meimei? The man who did this is already dead."

"But maybe they had an accomplice!"

Yoongi can't tell if it's all the talking that's giving him the headache, if it's the chloroform, or because he hasn't drunk any water in almost 24 hours. Hyejin cracks a bottle of water and hands it over when he asks.

"What kind of family are we if we can't protect our own?" The doctor stops her fussing, and Yoongi holds his head in his hands.

"We all need to be more careful."

"Enough."

Although his words are quiet, the world falls silent. Someone offers their hand to help Yoongi stand but he doesn't need it. Pushing himself to his feet using the edge of the dining room table. "All of this can wait for the morning," Yoongi says thank you and goodbyes, mostly to Moonbyul. Thanking her with a hand on her shoulder. She grips his arm back, leaning low to whisper in his ear.

“You know I’m not the one who deserves your thank you.”

Yoongi swallows and nods. Most of the family files out, sending fearful or jealous glances in Moonbyul’s direction. No doubt her actions tonight have moved her up on the hierarchy. Slipping on their shoes in the entranceway, Double-checking with the men stationed outside the front door.

But Yoongi doesn't pay attention to them. Yoongi walks to the sitting room.

You are sitting there on the same fine furniture where You and Yoongi usually take your tea and cakes. Two men are guarding either window in tactical gear, with all manner of weapons on their waists and holding AK-47s and handguns tucked into holsters at their waists. The dress you wear is dainty and delicate. A white night dress. Yoongi notices one of them looking at you, promptly trailing their gazes away when Yoongi comes into the room.

You turn to look at him and Yoongi almost chokes on his next breath.

The left side of your face is black and blue, and your cheekbone is split. Lip split too, mottled all the way down to your collarbones. So black and blue that he doubts makeup could cover it up. Yoongi can tell by the way that you hold yourself that your body is hurting, that Geumjae has hurt you. All likely, because of him. Because you'd tried and succeeded in saving him.

Yoongi takes one step into the room.

“Shame on you both for not inviting me to the tea party” Geumjae snickers from behind him, to the side, standing out of view. Yoongi’s fists tighten, and the bandages on his hands pull taught. Irritating his cut knuckles. "Can I come to the next one?" He taunts.

At the sound of Geumjae’s voice you turn away from Yoongi and stare straight ahead.   

~-~

(35 days before, Yoongi)

As the weeks drag on Yoongi’s attention gets spread thinner and thinner, the deadline for selecting Don draws nearer and nearer, and Yoongi watches you disappear through his fingers, like smoke or steam.

The softness you’ve shown him and your easy meetings become a memory. No longer. Because you had to tell Geumjae about them to convince him that Yoongi was missing, to save him- you had to let your husband know.  Your simple routine of cooking together and coffee in teacups gets farther and farther away. Becomes little more than a memory.

A good memory. Your last good memory maybe, because Yoongi is leaving soon.

You become more and more silent as the weeks go on. When he sees you at family dinners, you’re vacant. Nothing behind your eyes that looks like life. Your eyes slide over Yoongi like he’s not there. Like he doesn’t exist to you.

During the weekly family dinners, you look more and more worn. Thankful that no one asks you to speak. Hardly even bothering to pick at your food and make it look like you’re eating. Even across the table, Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away from you. He has to keep it in his seat- to not make an issue out of it under the hawk-like eyes of the heads of the family. There's little that he can do beyond jab at Geumjae and watch you fade.

You don’t look at him, even when he speaks to you. You respond when he asks you a direct question. But you keep your responses brief. Your voice cracking like you haven’t used it in days.

He walks by the house near constantly, whenever he’s not called upon, waiting for an opening. An opportunity. Hoping that this time when he walks by there won't be any cleaning cars parked on the sidewalk or one of Geumjae's fancy cars parked in the driveway. It feels like he's some stray, pacing back and forth and scratching at your door.

At family dinner times, if he extends his legs as far as he can go without slouching in his chair. He can get his ankle side by side with yours. Your skin feels cold most of the time. Most of the time you're shivering. Geumjae has...changed your uniform.

Before you saved Yoongi's life, the things your husband made you wear were fancy and demure, more in line with what the other omega’s in the family wear. Now they're scandalous and out of place. Plunging necklines and short hems. Geumjae forces you to wear increasingly more unseemly things regardless of the cold and the season. He can tell you’re uncomfortable with what you’re wearing by the way that you fidget constantly pulling down the hem and up the neckline.

But Yoongi guesses that it’s just another way for him to control you. To humiliate you. To parade you around.

Geumjae invites Yoongi over for tea, and Yoongi can't stay away. He has to see you.

When he enters the house is cold and quiet. There are none of your usual staff around, no cleaning ladies or private chefs. Just more armed guards standing tall and muscled, willowy and quick. All alpha’s. There is one by the door wearing a suit to let Yoongi inside, but the rest are in tactical gear. Geumjae isn’t the only head of house whose called on a more permanent detail in the wake of Yoongi’s abduction.

Everyone is on edge, if Yoongi could be abducted so easily then they’re all fair game. Regardless of the moratorium on murder during the 120-day period.

When Geumjae invites him in you’re just sitting there in the Livingroom. You don’t meet Yoongi’s gaze when he says your name. There is no recognition in your face at all. You are a doll perfectly trained. Sitting pretty and slutty in the clothes that your husband has picked out for you.

You are sitting on the couch with your legs Infront of you. The thong you wear does little to provide any bit of modesty. Most of you is hidden by your legs, pressed together so hard bone meets bone. In any other scenario Yoongi would look away, would give you your privacy, he can see the darkness of your nipple through the translucent lace of your bralette. Too small, much too small. It makes anger boil behind his eyes, makes his hands shake.

There are six armed guards in this room. All alpha’s. One by the exit to the sitting room, one by the entrance to the dining room, one by each window, and one more by the stairs. They’re all from the Min family. Distant relatives and distant cousins. Yoongi even recognizes one of the alpha women for her short brown hair alone. All of them armed to the teeth just like the night he was brought home. They watch you out of the corner of their eyes, Hands on their guns.

You do not raise your eyes to meet Yoongi’s gaze.

Geumjae grins, staring at Yoongi, watching the horror on his face with something like excitement as Yoongi takes in your predicament. “I’ll get your coffee; she told me that’s what you liked. She’d have made honey cakes for you, but she’s been rather busy.”

Geumjae’s eyes rove your body, raking it, tearing it up just by looking. He looks at you like he wants to devour you, consume you and make you nothing but shit after digesting. You shouldn’t feel so hurt by it, but every second his eyes are on you, every inch he sees hurts. A knife poking you from the inside out would hurt less. A bullet would be gentler.

You want to cut out every inch he looks at, what to peel away your skin like a butterfly shedding its chrysalis or a worm hatching wriggly. You wish you could take what he sees, what he likes, and shove it down his throat and make him choke on his own satisfaction.

He likes looking at you, and you hate it. Your vision goes shaky, and your breath starts to feel bigger than your lungs, an earthquake from the inside out, a catastrophe that only you can feel.

You’re trembling faintly. Yoongi’s not sure that if it’s from fear or the cold. Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but beyond that he gives no outward reaction. Of course, Geumjae had interrogated you about your weekly (sometimes daily) meetings. Of course, he throws the evidence of all he knows back in Yoongi’s face now.

Geumjae goes to get the teapot, and the second he’s out of sight Yoongi pulls off his sweatshirt and puts it over your head, guiding your arms through it. You need a little help. One of your hands is so swollen that you can’t open your fingers. Yoongi wonders if Geumjae stepped on it or if you held it up Infront of your face when he was hitting you. Both options make him feel sick with anger. Breath hitching when your fingers skim his for a second. Squeezing his wrist hard.  Yoongi’s mouth goes dry. And he knows he has seconds.

“There you go, there you go. you’re so cold,” but you don’t respond. “it’s alright. You’re gonna be alright, I promise.” He says, barely daring to whisper the words. The men around the room stare straight ahead blankly.

You don't respond. Staring blankly off into space. Yoongi's hands shake with rage, wishing there was more he could do. But all too soon Geumjae’s tapping of his leather shoes returns to the doorway. Holding a fresh pot and a pretty gilded teacup, smiling when Yoongi looks back up at him, crouched Infront of you, standing to his feet at his presence. Barely resisting the urge to put his body in-between yours and his.

“See Yoongi? I told you she only needed a firm hand- she’s as good as tamed now.”

Your tea party does not go as it normally does. Not this time. Yoongi does has a job in the family- and that job is primarily to offer advice. Geumjae actually does need his help with something and Yoongi is bound to offer it. He makes his words clipped and his sentences shitty. Geumjae gets increasingly more annoyed the more predictable Yoongi’s responses become. But Yoongi would rather bite off his own fingers than help.

They talk through the business of the mole, if anyone’s found who orchestrated Yoongi’s abduction yet. Which house- if any house, was the man connected too.  

You don’t even lift your teacup to your mouth. Yoongi tries not to watch you more than Geumjae, tries but it’s hard.

Eventually Geumjae does not feel like playing along with him. Gets tired.

“Eat.” He commands, and you lift a biscuit to your mouth. “chew” he commands. And you chew. Yoongi’s cup clatters into its saucer. “Actually, I changed my mind, spit it out. Can’t have you gaining too much weight.”

Geumjae holds out his hand, and you spit it out into his hand. Geumjae wipes the chewed food on your face. It’s not a lot. You’d hardly taken a bite. But Yoongi does not manage to stay in his seat. Geumjae mirrors him, pressed almost chest to chest with Geumjae in seconds.

“You can’t be fucking serious- you-” rage feels like muteness, Yoongi is going to hit Geumjae, is going to lose his temper if he’s not careful. Yoongi shoves him, and Geumjae laughs.

You pull on Yoongi’s pant leg, just once. And he makes the mistake of looking down.

“I think my brother is tired,” Geumjae says, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in Yoongi’s collar. There is still chewed food on his fingers.  “We can continue talking tomorrow when you’re not so worked up.”

Geumjae looks down at you. “Princess, give him back his sweatshirt, we can’t have him walking home in the cold without anything can we.”

The sweatshirt pools around your waist and goes almost to your knees when you stand up. Yoongi is already fairly average for a man, Yoongi has always liked his clothes big and baggy, and his sweatshirt looks massive on you. The soft swells you had when he first met you are gone now.

You stand up wordlessly, you reach for your hem right there regardless of the guards (and Yoongi’s) eyes on you. You lift them hem over your head. Pealing the sweatshirt off of your nearly naked body without a thought.

You are tiny. Smaller now than when he met you. He can see every one of your ribs when you lift your arms over your head to take off the red sweatshirt.  

Yoongi wonders what else he's made you do Infront of them. Geumjae smirks, looking satisfied.

That’s what does Yoongi in.

"Turn around." He snaps, and every one of the guards follows suit. Even you listen, staring to turn before Yoongi sets a hand on your bare shoulder. Tilting your face up to his. Making you look at him.

His sweatshirt falls to the floor.

The men in their uniforms and guns turn. You raise your eyebrows, like you're confused, like you think it's you being ordered. But Yoongi just cups your cheek.

You almost flinch at the gentle touch, so unused to it. To being touched with anything like this. To being touched without it being painful.

Yoongi can see the blood draining from Geumjae’s face. Can see the guards straighten up, their hands readying on their guns, Nervous.

"Go upstairs and put some close on." You are only too happy to follow Yoongi's orders, to slink past the man at the stairs, teetering on unsteady footsteps as you ascend the staircase up to the second floor.

Only once you’re out of sight does Yoongi address the alpha’s in the room. Each of them standing up a little straighter. As if they finally remember who Yoongi is. They should remember.

He should remind them.

“Turn back around.” They turn. “Take a step back.” They step back. Yoongi watches a drop of sweat blead down Geumjae’s temple. He grins, showing his teeth.

“Hand me your gun.” The guard closes to him takes a handgun out of its holster and hands it to Yoongi. Geumjae’s grin falters just a little.  Yoongi flicks off the safety, appraises the gun quickly before he takes the clip out. Popping the bullets out onto the floor one by one, they fall to the floor with a clink. heartbeat by heartbeat. More than one alpha flinches as the last one falls.  

Yoongi liberates the stock from the barrel lets the gun fall to pieces around him.

“Another.” The next man hands him the gun and Yoongi does not disassemble it, just takes it and flicks off the safety.

“Actually, I changed my mind, look at him. All of you. Look at my brother. Don’t you dare fucking blink.”

Geumjae does not show any outward signs of fear as Yoongi holds the gun by his side. he doesn’t look anything other than cool and calm. Yoongi lets the silence stew for a moment. Just a moment.

"If he does that to her again, you are to call me. Any alpha that does will be compensated accordingly." Geumjae's sneer worsens. But he doesn't interfere. They stand like that. Separate from each other by a few feet. Yoongi’s hand sweaty on the gun.

"If it wasn't for what would happen to her, I'd put a bullet in your head."

"If it wasn't for your sub gender, I'd put one in yours."

Yoongi and Geumjae glare at each other from across the room for a second. Then Yoongi puts on his sweatshirt. He lifts the gun, “I’m keeping this.” And tucks it into the pocket.

He leaves.

He tucks his nose into the collar and puts up the hood against the oncoming rain. Pausing on the street corner. It smells like you. The sweatshirt.

When Yoongi looks back at the house, there is a figure upstairs silhouetted in the window. He nods at you, and you nod back.

~-~

(22 days before, Yoongi)

Yoongi wears your sweatshirt until your scent fades from the fabric. But even after it feels like the smell of rain follows him always. It’s a rainy winter. Not cold enough to snow but cold enough to freeze.

His long walks cover him in it, at the constant complaints of his detail. He can only dismiss the young alphas that the family appoints to guard him so many times. Guarding the beta against another assassination attempt is a privilege they say, an honor. But Yoongi just needs some peace and quiet. Just needs some space and time to think through his plan, more and more flimsy feeling as the days stretch on.

Things get worse and they don’t really get better.  

Geumjae takes Yoongi’s continual presence as a personal threat. He can’t take it out on the beta, so he takes it out on you instead. In the field, Geumjae is the perfect leader, cool and calm and collected. Sure, he shoots first and asks questions never but there are worse heads of house. People who are less competent. Geumjae is capable of showing restraint.

Just not with you.

At home Geumjae lets his worst impulses run wild. Before Geumjae knew about the tea parties (Yoongi has yet to find a word he likes better) he never invited Yoongi to your personal family meals. But now he gets invited to every single one.

He sees you in all manner of get-ups, scantily clad and see-through dresses, skirts that barely cover everything but never anything as bare as the very first time. He sees you wear lipstick smudged. Mascara runny. Bruises boldly on display.

Yoongi promises himself quietly, that if he ever gets you out of here, you’ll never get hurt like this again.

Yoongi tries to intervene, tries to, but it never goes well for you, so he stops himself. Geumjae likes to make Yoongi watch.

Yoongi’s is there when he backhands you after you drop a plate. Yoongi doesn’t keep himself in his seat- can’t stop himself from standing and grabbing his brother's arm before he deals another blow. And maybe it only makes it worse for you because you’re twice as bruised the next time he sees you, but Yoongi’s hands shake with the way you’d looked at him from the floor- holding your cheek defiant and alive. Like you still have a fight left in you.

It’s a look he tries to remember as time goes on and your fighting spirit fades.

You don’t deserve any of this from Geumjae, not the backhanded compliments that have you pushing the food around your plate. The ones that have you not eating at all, not even the sweets that you make, piles and piles of them.

Geumjae makes you bake a chocolate cake, bringing it out to Yoongi on uneven footsteps, the heels you wear towering. It's a pretty cake, topped with cherries and chocolate ganache. It smells like Yoongi smells when he's happy. Only once you've put it on the table does Geumjae push your face down into it.

When Geumjae leaves the room. Yoongi uses a rag to clean your face.

Yoongi’s surprised he didn’t realize it sooner; that you hardly eat at family dinners. Maybe it would be easier to stomach if you weren’t so small. Terribly thin. "She's gained weight since our honeymoon." Geumjae justifies when Yoongi asks. "She's a good wife brother, she knows to do anything she has to do to keep me in her corner."

He thinks back to the moon family dinner and how you’d almost collapsed because of your tight corset. He wonders if that was because of hunger or truly because you couldn’t breathe.

He doubts he’ll ever know the answer.

~-~

Yoongi stops coming over. Stops coming on Mondays and Wednesdays, and you stop texting him.

Well, not entirely.

You develop your own code. You send Yoongi a blank message, a simple text without any words in it, and he’s on his way. And anyone who saw it, Geumjae or otherwise could just assume that it was a typo, a but dial. An accident.

Even if it's anything but.

All he has to do is see your contact light up his phone before he's up and out of whatever place he currently haunts, the docks, an apartment for a meeting, an underground storehouse for stolen goods. You text and Yoongi always comes.

If you don’t send him anything. He knows better than to try.

~-~

(10 days before, Yoongi).

The day comes again when Yoongi gets a text and comes to your house and finds the windows dark, finds the house empty. You are sitting on the couch again. Blankly staring off into space. You don’t react when Yoongi calls your name.

You’re done up but not even the thickest full-coverage makeup could hide the bruises. Yoongi wonders why you try. He gets down on his knees Infront of you and takes your hands in his.

He got an empty text a few minutes ago, he might have stayed nearby at a coffee shop down the block. He’s taken to waiting there when he doesn’t have someone calling upon him. One family or another that wants his ear- or more likely another chance to convince him. The days are counting down, pretty soon anyone but him will be fair game.

Yoongi knows the heads of house are not above murdering each other to become Don. Once the moratorium on murder is over, Yoongi fears it will be all out war.

In truth, Yoongi has no idea who he’s going to choose, no idea at all if he’ll choose Geumjae or Moonbyul or any other family members. Yoongi’s hasn’t thought about it much- but he probably will have to over the next few days.

At least before the Gala.

For now, Yoongi kneels down Infront of you with a creek of his knees, pulling your hands into his. There is no one here. No one here at all besides you and him. “I’m going to take you away okay? Just for today. I’m getting you out of this goddamn house.” You do not respond. Staring blankly ahead. You are already dressed, in comfortable clothes. Yoongi helps you into some snow boots. Yoongi ties the scarf around your neck.

You don’t go far because he’s not sure you could manage it. You still don’t say anything, but you don’t need to. He takes you to a diner down the block. The food is cheap and greasy and filling. The booth in the back of the shop is secluded and there aren't even any cameras.

You eat half your plate, and Yoongi counts it as a win.

You sit on the same side of the booth, and after you're done you lean your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are still staring blankly ahead, and your voice is so soft barely a whisper.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend.”

Yoongi tries not to pay attention to the warmth of your body, failing not to luxuriate in it, to savor it, to imprint the feeling of your body resting gently against his. Happy to be a refuge, happy to be a safe harbor however temporarily. He carefully threads his fingers still crisscrossed pink with scars through yours, finally healed enough that you can move your fingers.

The top of your head will smell like him by the time you pull away. He hopes he smells like you too. You’ve never scent-marked him, you’ve never nested or shown even the slightest omegan instinct Infront of him. Yoongi has never put thought to it before. But now he wonders if you’ve just never felt safe enough for any of that to come out. He's still never smelled what your scent is like when you're happy. Maybe there was that one moment when you rescued him- but he's half convinced that was a dream anyway.

“Finally feel like talking Ey?” You exhale against him, your body limp. You don’t pull away from him, you don’t even look up at him. Yoongi wishes you'd fight him, that you'd banter back. But it scares him, it scares him that you don't even have that in you anymore.  

“At the beginning, Geumjae forbade me from talking to anyone that wasn’t him. I was so scared back then." Yoongi can almost taste the memory of that fear on your scent, he breathes in, imprinting the scent of you to memory. Even if it's your sad scent, even if he hates what it represents.

"I didn’t know how to act like you guys do, how to be taken seriously, how to say this the right way, how to dress like that-"

"I don’t act in any-"

"Yes. You do. You’re different but you can’t help it." Yoongi goes quiet, let's you speak. The tone of your voice firm. "I couldn’t understand what they were saying anyway. But it was still so isolating.”

You watch the people bustle back and forth out the distant windows, the people bundled up against the cold and snow. Underneath the table, you clutch at Yoongi’s hand. Your grip isn’t harsh, But Yoongi knows it’s the strongest you can make it.

“I didn’t speak to another soul for weeks, months, not even to him. It made him so angry when I wouldn’t even react, but I’d go to this little place inside my head, far away from Geumjae, far away from anything he could do to hurt me. A place where he can’t touch me. I still go there sometimes. I’m sorry."

Yoongi’s heart is in his throat. “It’s alright.” He says after a moment, unsure what to say to that and unsure how to provide a comfort that you’ll accept, that will do more good than harm.

“I tried to do everything, I tried to be perfect, I tried to be what they wanted and look at where it’s gotten me.” your eyes flicker up to his, “look where it’s gotten both of us.”

You’re silent for a long time after that, but Yoongi doesn’t prod you for more, on the contrary. “You don’t have to speak if you don’t want too, I don’t mind.” You tap your fingers against his knuckles, gently exploring the scarf tied to his wrist, now worn and frayed at the edges because Yoongi hasn’t taken it off in weeks.

You don’t say another thing for the rest of the night. Not when he leans in, resting his cheek across the top of your head. Clouds blanket the city, but even above the cloud cover, there’s not a star in the sky.

~-~

(7 days before, Yoongi)

The promise of home looms, uncertain. Yoongi has not tried to reach out to the pack since before his phone was broken and has not contacted them at all in 113 days. He wonders if they’re going crazy still or if they’re mad enough that they don’t give a shit about him anymore.

By this time next week, Yoongi will have made his choice. By this time next week Yoongi could be on his way to them.

Freedom is a dirty word, tastes like rain on his tongue. What is to become of you then?

Maybe it’s better this way, maybe it’s better if they never know. And Yoongi can live with a mostly clear conscience because at least for a brief while, he'd had gotten to fall in love and have it reciprocated. Not just once but 6 times. Yoongi knows he's gotten more love than most. In the end, he's done everything he could to protect them.

Yoongi closes his eyes looking up at the ceiling in the cottage, intent on daydreaming until he falls asleep. It’s late now, nearing 1am. He really should get some sleep. The gala and the naming of Don is barely 7 days away, 6 if Yoongi counts the days by the date and not by the number of sleeps. The minutes tick down, as important as a heartbeat. The red alarm clock in the corner blinks, and his suitcase remains in the corner, still open. Yoongi has never really unpacked. Never intending on staying for long.

Yoongi has just closed his eyes when a short knock comes at the front door.

(Like I said, Yoongi's conscience is mostly clear, mostly, but not all the way.)

Yoongi blinks awake at the sound of it, quick short efficient wraps against the wood. He runs a hand through his hair annoyance flaring because he’s tired. Wrapped in a robe stolen from the hotel as he opens the front door, the knocking never pausing.

“What the fuck do you- shit-”

You tumble into his arms, clearly having used the front door to prop yourself up. Your front is covered with so much blood that at first it’s hard to tell where you’re bleeding. Panic and fear build and fight to a crescendo as Yoongi drags you inside and kicks the door shut before anyone can see.

Yoongi knows what a lot of blood looks like.

For a horrifying moment, Yoongi thinks that Geumjae has tried to slit your throat.

But then your head moves, lolling to the side in his arms, and he registers that it’s uneven, down your chin to your jaw, not across like a smile. He doesn’t know how you got past the people stationed at the front of his driveway. He wonders how you managed to get them to let you through. Especially looking like this.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

Maybe you just asked nicely. You're kind of a hard person to say no to.

“Don’t apologize, here sit-” you’re holding a blood-soaked cloth under your jaw, Yoongi has to gently cajole you into taking it away. The fibers stick to the gash. The blood barely clotted because whatever cut you was surgically sharp. It’s deep, deep enough that it splits, and Yoongi can see the place where your skin becomes flesh. It's just at the spot where your throat meets your jaw, on the underside of your chin. Yoongi’s not sure if you need stitches. Probably.

 His eyes flicker from it to your eyes.

“He-” You swallow, and wince, and the gash moves. Yoongi has never seen you cry before, has never seen your eyes fill with tears but they do now, wet. Gathering.  “He threw a glass at me.”

Your clothes are soaked with blood. Soaked. Boiling in rage. Yoongi holds your jaw and seals up your gash with a little bit of glue suture that sings so bad that you do cry. And Yoongi can do little more but tell you he’s sorry again and again until he’s done. Forehead pressed to yours letting out these little shushing noises as he tosses the packet and the bloody gauze to the side and holds you.

At least it stops bleeding.

Yoongi wishes he could call Namjoon; Namjoon would know if you needed stitches or medical attention. Namjoon would know what to do- would know what to say and how to get you out of here. He’d soothe your pain and your aches better than Yoongi ever could.

And Seokjin and Jimin would know how to comfort you when you shake so bad that Yoongi can barely do more than dab at it with a cloth. Try to make sure it’s clean of all the glass shards. Taehyung and Hoseok would know how to make you smile after this and Jungkook- Jungkook would hold around your waist, would wrap you up in him to protect you. Using his body as a shield.

They don’t even know you yet and this, Yoongi is sure of. Yoongi is useless at this without them. Yoongi is useless. All these weeks you've been hurting. And he hasn't really been able to protect you at all. Has only been able to minimize the damage and fix you just enough that you’re not dead.

But how many more close calls can you have? How many more days of abuse can you endure?

They’d love you, he’s sure of it.

Exhausted and shaky he stops your bleeding. Yoongi gets you a fresh change of clothes. His sweatshirt is still so large on you that it dusts your knees. It makes you smell like him and if the situation were any less dire it would make Yoongi purr.

While he picks the last of the glass fragments out of your hair, he voices what he’s wanted to say for months. He’s tired of dancing around it.

You watch him wary.

“You know- I could get you out of here if you wanted. If you asked me to do it, I’d make it happen.”

You recoil like Yoongi’s the one to throw a glass in your face. Pulling back from his touch, a shard of glass, pearly, a bit rainbow where it's shattered in concentric circles. Plops onto the small round table.

You're almost breathless with how shocked you are. “I can’t. I can’t leave Yoongi. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you and I can’t be the reason why you don’t go home, I’ll-” You’re speaking so quick he can’t interrupt, can't tell you to damn the consequences. It’s like all your words have been kept back by a floodgate, rippling out now. Your voice shaky with fear. “He’ll get better once you name him Don, right? Then he just won’t be so angry all the time- right? He'll have everything he wants and that will satisfy him. And he’ll be out of the house so much it will hardly feel like we’re even married.”

Yoongi knows that this is just what you've been telling yourself over the last few weeks. That you'll say and think anything to convince yourself that things will one day get better. Anything to give you just a little bit of hope. You are a creature of survival, and survival subsists on hope.

You look like you’re begging Yoongi to reassure you. When you both know that nothing is going to change, some people are just rotten to the core. And Yoongi can’t be forceful with you when you look like you might run out of here just as quickly as you came. Yoongi wonders how long it will take Geumjae to find you and how badly he’ll hurt you this time.

You both know there will only be more of this- more of you trapped. More pain and more terror. Unless you trust Yoongi.

If you trust Yoongi.

Yoongi speaks- trying to figure out what will keep you here the longest, trying as long as he can keep you out of harm’s way. “You don’t deserve this sweetheart; you don't deserve everything he's done to you. You deserve to be loved.” Yoongi's voice cracks, and he sees from the way you recoil- he must have touched on something sensitive. A soft spot or an open wound that Geumjae has made in you.

How many times has he screamed at you that you’re no better than a worm beneath his boot? That you are nothing? Every bit of love you've ever gotten was something you either had to earn or pay for. You won’t show Yoongi it, but there’s a scar on your lower back. A word that Geumjae put there when you had yet to learn your lesson. Each letter hurt when he carved them into your body. Forever. You know they scared bad. He cut deeper than the one on your jaw.

Worthless.

It's written on you in scar tissue. Written on your soul too. There is no hiding it. The sooner Yoongi learns the better.

“Who’s going to love me, Yoongi? Not when I’m like this,” you gesture to yourself, failing to meet his eyes. Holding yourself like it’s the only thing that can give you comfort. And all Yoongi can think is that there is nothing about you that deserves the utter disgust in your voice. He knows, distantly he can hear Seokjin telling him. This is just the low self-esteem talking. Another side effect of the abuse. Damage that goes deeper than any physical bandage or medicine can heal.

The only thing that could help is time and love, and you only have one of those things.

In 6 days Yoongi will be free, but you? You won’t be free from this until Geumjae puts a bullet in your head or someone puts one in his.

His whispered confession is true as he holds the cold cloth back to the cut on your jaw. Beading with blood from the amount that you’ve talked. He hopes his words will soothe that spot too. Any and all damage his brother has done, Yoongi wants to heal.

“I could love you,” he says it so casually like it's nothing. But it's anything but nothing to you.

You shoot up, standing so quick that the blood rushes to your head and you teeter. You can’t see Yoongi’s concern through the tears clouding your vision. You narrowly avoid his outstretched arms, instead gripping the table to keep yourself from falling over. Shaking your head vehemently. Your shin knocks against the coffee table hard as you back away from him. His hands go out to grab you, but he thinks better of it.

“You can’t Yoongi- he’ll kill you. I won’t be the reason why you die- I won’t.” You promise vehemently. “You need to get back to your pack, you need to make it up to them. They need you.”

He takes one step forward. “But you need me too.” You do, that you can’t argue with no matter how much you want to. “Don’t tell me it’s too late to save you when we both know it’s not.”

“It’s not, but I wish I was beyond saving so that you wouldn’t try.”

“You think I have a choice? That I meant to-" love you, he breaks off, half shouting at you now. "Before I met you, I was going to come to this fucking city, name someone Don, and fuck the family for good. I was going to disappear. But now I can't.”

Yoongi realizes his mistake the second you flinch. Sometimes words can hurt too. Can hurt worse than physical damage. When your voice goes soft rather than forceful Yoongi knows he's fucked up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a burden. Let me make the choice easier for you.” You don’t grab your jacket, you fold the cloth, put it on the kitchen counter, and walk out the door.

By the time Yoongi runs after you, you’ve already disappeared down the garden path and into the maze of neon lights. Sinking into the crowds of drunk college kids and businessmen hoping to nurse their hurts in a bottle of liquor. You disappear like a shadow or a wraith. Like you’re already a Spector, already dead.

That night Yoongi dreams of you again. It’s the same dream that he had months ago where he was lying on the fur with the skylight and snow up above. The fur beneath him feels silky and cool, and he lies there just watching you.

The dream is the same. Only this time you're the one with the gun.

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- Ahhh I really like the line ‘Geumjae likes taking what you don’t want to give.’ I think it sums up his character and the type of abuse he puts her through really well.

- Incase it’s not clear- Geumjae did not believe the m/c and punished her when she tried to get him to go to Yoongi. But because she texted Moonbyul (or Hyejin really, it’s up to you to decide who she texted) they were able to rush in and save him. I have to admit even I’m not sure if she’s actually there when Yoongi is rescued, I think it might just have been him hallucinating because of dehydration. I also think Geumjae could have punished her, left the house in a rage/annoyance, and Moonbyul showed up soon after to go rescue Yoongi. I don’t think it really matters what order of events occurred only that it’s Moonbyul and the m/c that saved Yoongi.

- Sajangnim means boss in Korean! Just for clarification

- I think the moment that the m/c looks away from Yoongi is the moment that Yoongi realizes that he’s falling in love with her and that if he leaves her to Geumjae he’ll never forgive himself.

- (Trigger warning: sexual abuse, rape, non-consensual sex acts), I think that Geumjae made the m/c suck him off and raped her infont of the guards at least once, he probably also invited any of them who wanted her to have her and then cut off the dick of the alpha who stepped up to rape her. He also probably made her do lewd things for their entertainment. I think at least one of the guards did report what happened back to Moonbyul, but she didn’t do anything about it or make any move to save the m/c. If anything she probably just took notes to use it against her in the future, to know how to threaten and subtly trigger the m/c to be more subservient. Moonbyul is more of a fan of psychological abuse than physical.

- I feel as though, maybe Yoongi’s words of ‘it’s alright’ are patronizing? But I don’t know what the m/c could hear in this situation that would be comforting. Idk, maybe I’ll think on it some more and change the dialogue here eventually.

- I don’t know if any of you have ever had your skin glued shut but let me tell you it is so fucking painful! It’s literally like! So much more painful than stitches or worse. Maybe because the stuff my abuser used on me was definitely not body safe and I’m pretty sure it was like- hobby glue or the kind they use in tactical but! It’s the worst!! Truly would rather be stabbed again than have to go through it.

[zith-ipeth]

A dog came into the shop today, his name was Maximus

This is a post about transandrophobia and man hating platitudes

I’ve been sitting around the edge of this discourse because I have stakes and traumas in it, but idk, fuck it, it shouldn’t be discourse.

I see a lot of comparisons between humanity and our canine cousins, it helps me understand modern politics and social issues. This post might not make sense, if I say things that are harmful, I do not mean it. And please for the love of all that is holy correct me, public or private, I’m learning, and making mistakes

—————————

When I was younger, a member of my aunts family, a large mutt named Hunter, jumped on me in a playful gesture, he was about as big as I was at 9 years old, and all muscle. He knocked me over and left a massive claw mark on my stomach. He was a fantastic dog, excitable, very cuddly, loved to play with his siblings. This isn’t to say he was perfect, no one is, he got aggressive, and has barked and bit people before

This can happen with rescues, turns out abuse can often create animals that cuase harm because that’s what they know

No one is one dimensional

In middle school, I was sexually assaulted, emotionally abused and manipulated by a trans boy my age, we were both young, far too young. I can’t say he was nice man, when we grew up he refused to acknowledged any of the harm he had caused, and caused further harm as he got older. But at the time, I knew that what happened wasn’t a cold calculated process, he was too young to have learned this from anything other than abuse that happened onto him

This can happen with trans folks, turns out abuse can often create people that cause harm because that’s what they know

But no one is one dimensional…

———————

Tumblr has been having this whole moment with transandrophobia/transmisandry, it’s, a lot. And for some reason I thought as all this was happening, that my beliefs about it would be kinda, one sided.

Cis men are violent and “bad” due to masculinity: I’ve seen this a thousand times, first and second hand, I’ve felt it, in the shaking hand of a girl sobbing and I’ve felt it as bruises on my abdomen, left by boys older than me.

Trans men are violent and “bad” due to masculinity: I’ve felt this, I’ve been hurt by this, in a way that broke me down in a way nothing else has

But I still felt, off, about it

Mostly because like, yeah, masculinity can be bad and scary, this is true. But it’s not one dimensional like that, masculinity can be amazing too, masculine cis men have saved my ass from being bullied in school more times than I can count.

No one is one dimensional

Also, misandry, even separate from transness, IS REAL, I was a guy for a long time, I felt it. My friend, who was cis, felt it, and still feels it. They have trouble making friends in college because people view them as a threat, due to their masculinity, that’s a real problem

And that problem is multiplied by the intersection of transness

And like yeah, it’s not as societally pervasive as misogyny, but even if it’s small, it’s still there, and still hurts people

I have every excuse to perceive trans men as violent and evil, and yeah, sometimes men, and often trans men, get scary to me, cuase it clicks a response in my brain. But I’m also an adult, and know that I share community with my cis and trans masc allies.

And somthing interesting about the boy who assaulted me, is how fast people were to take away his transness, my friends started using his old names, using dehumanizing pronouns he didn’t use, saying that it was “man behavior”. He’s a trans man, he was a bad person, those arnt connected, and one shouldn’t effect the other, being perceived as the gender you are isn’t a “reward” for good behavior. he was an asshole, and a liar, but he was man.

I get how one can be scared when someone is part of a group when someone in that identity group hurt you, but learning to love those people is incredibly fulfilling, and is something you must do as a trans ally

The relationships with men, trans and cis, I’ve had have been some of the most fun, flirtatious and physically/mentally stimulating relationships I’ve ever had

——————

Today at the pet supply shop I work at, a dog named Maximus came in

Massive, maybe 115 pound mastiff, clipped ears, docked tail, golden chain collar. His person was a built man, shaved head, full beard.

They came in for a self serve bath, and when they left, Maximus was wagging the nub of his tail, tapping his paws and whining, smelling all the amazing smells in the store. I got down to his level to pet him, and he jumped on me, playfully. His size made the visual of him jumping on me a little scary, but the kisses made it a lot better

No one is one dimensional

—————

Trans men face unique transphobia, if that bothers you, fuck off. If you want to demonize a trans man for shit they didn’t even do, for shit that other men have done, fuck off.

Judge people for who they are, not for who they might be, I don’t give a shit how scary a man looks, try and understand them regardless

I love dogs, and sometimes they’re scary, but that’s something I need to work through

I love men, and sometimes they’re scary, but that’s somthing I need to work through.

Run fast, bite hard, bark loud

Peace love and gratitude

-Zith Ipeth

[bondwithme-murderstyle]

Who's The Boss pt.1 aaron hotchner x fem!reader

wc: 3k

Summary: Aaron Hotchner has some time before heading to Quantico and embarking on his new position within the BAU. He decides that now would be a good time to gather some of his buddies and head off on a vacation to Miami before his life is turned on its head.

warnings: +18, mdni!! vacation setting with explicit descriptions but no physical acts (save that for pt.3), smoking because it's the '90s and this man with a cigarette is my holy grail, a tiny paragraph releasing haley from this story-line, essentially just verbal-foreplay, reader is described as having hair (???) that gets wet in the pool, definitely dom!aaron and his dirty mouth, no use of y/n, not as romantic as my dream had originally perceived him but we'll take what we can get in the moment

an: another day, another one-shot. i can feel myself warming up to doing this regularly tbqh. let me know what you think!

Aaron Hotchner was the budding agent for the FBI. His stats were always excellent and Aaron was renowned for his high-scores and over-achieving nature, shaming the agents who had been working with the FBI since the dawn of time. Departments wanted him. His academy-mates wanted to be him. A fresh-faced twenty-six year old ready to fight off the competition had already secured his placement within the Behavioural Analysis Unit that fall. The Academy had granted him five-weeks of rec-time and he thought of nothing better than taking a vacation with his academy pals and some old college buddies. Miami, Florida was the place to be. 

It was always hot and always sunny, rarely a day of rain that kept the group of five guys locked up. Today, particularly this day- there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun cast a golden glow over their hotel pool-deck. Aaron was awake first. Habitually, he would never allow himself to feel the shame that his classmates would when they tumbled out of bed just before lunch. Aaron ate his breakfast out by the pool, he brought a book to keep him occupied as the geriatric crowd of their hotel took their laps in the pool before taking their day-trip down to the beach. Slowly, other hotel-goers trickled outside, fanning to find their spots for the day. Towels were thrown over scattered loungers and his college-mates were the first to meet him outside as he finished a cup of black coffee and ear-marked the page in his Thomas Harris novel. They quickly approached, hitting him on the shoulder, the arm and mocking him for his reserved approach to the vacation. They jibed that he looked ancient for sitting with coffee and a book when he should have really been expanding his palate given the select few young women who had set up camp around him, skimpy bright bikinis that were far too alluring to ignore. Yet, somehow, he managed to do just that. Ignore them. His friends managed to convince him to at least move to a lounger of his own if he were to sit and read all day. Aaron was defiant, “I can have fun with the best of them. I’m just at the crux of the story-” “And the crux will wait. It’s not goin’ anywhere, Hotchner!” His friend took the book he had placed on his lounger and tossed it down onto the paving stones. 

When his academy-mates joined the crowd, they were more raucous. Dumping their towels on their friends loungers before throwing themselves into the pool with a large splash and yells to boot. Aaron would grimace from behind his sunglasses, their noise interrupting the peace he had long set out for. The vacation that would define the rest of his life. By lunchtime, there were swirls of rumours around the pool and even neighbouring hotels. There was to be a boys-vs-girls polo game that night two hotels down from where Aaron and his friends were staying. The owner was apparently "super-chill" with the young crowds and was renowned for his summer parties. His friends spoke across him as his nose was pushed into the third-act of Red Dragon, talking about having to find a date to take in the hopes to get her out of her swimsuit. Their callous words and deep agreeing chuckles interloped with the words he tried so hard to concentrate on processing. “Hotchner! That means you too!” A cold splash hit the bottom of his feet and caused the ashtray between the two loungers to tip and topple. Aaron looked up from the book and lifted his sunglasses slightly to find his friend in the pool looking right at him, “What means me?” “You’re going to find a date and get over this Haley bullshit once and for all. You're coming with us tonight!”

The Haley slump was real. Upon hearing of him wanting to join the FBI Academy, she feared it would be far too dangerous for him. She wanted him to remain a prosecutor and work his way up that particular ladder. It caused endless arguments in their studio apartment, disagreements over supposedly peaceful weekends and countless silent-treatments until they came to the agreement that this was his life and she wouldn’t be the one to hold him back. It had been twenty long weeks at the Academy and an even longer two weeks out of the Academy with his friends hounding him about being single again. 

“What if I go without a date? Meet someone there?” “Then you’re a chump!” His friend next to him piped up and extended his pack of cigarettes to him. Aaron took one out and lit it up, sighing the smoke across the pages of his novel before his legs sat on each side of the lounger and his book was placed facedown to keep his page. “Am I still a chump if I meet someone over there and they’re already drunk enough to forget who they came with?” Aaron reasoned and looked at his friend on his right, his friend in the pool and the other at the bar. Their suggestive gazes to each other was just enough confirmation for him that his idea was a good one. He raised his eyebrow and took a drag of his cigarette. He was always the smartest man in the room. His friend swam to the pool edge and his other buddy brought his lounger slightly closer as though to bask in his genius and they fawned over how they might just do exactly what Aaron would. He was quick to hold his hand up, cigarette in his mouth and laugh, “Don’t let me stop you from working this deck, alright? I'll stay out of your turf and take it easy on you, huh!?” 

Across the pool, you watched him. Your fair-skin hidden in the shadows for fear of burning, your sights were set. His smile was so stupefying and his floppy and glossy dark hair was exactly that in the Florida sun. He had been reading since the morning, you remained inside and ate breakfast with your girlfriend who had since disappeared back to her room with the world’s worst hangover. Since then, you nursed fruity cocktails and occasionally dipped your toe in the cool shadow-edge of the pool until the splashing and yelling and laughing had become too much and you retreated. Through it all, the stranger remained stone-faced. With each cigarette he smoked, each page that turned, you were pulled in. And then you saw his eyes. Sunglasses completely removed and cast aside much like his book as he made his way to sit on the edge of the pool where the sun beat down over him and his friends, eventually sliding in the water. His friends were fine. Your girlfriend would be all over them if she could keep her head out of the toilet bowl but him. You had to know his name. 

Waiting until he was completely in the water and within an approachable distance, you decided to stand and drop the towel that had been wrapped around yourself in order to take a dip. The ends of your hair were quick to glom together and stick to your skin as you tread through the water with miniscule steps until finding a safe place, an edge where you could perch and watch had presented itself.

The water was warmer and you enjoyed kicking your legs back and forth softly and feeling the temperature climb as the sun moved. You weren't paying much attention, eyes far too focused on the bartender refilling ice and liquor bottles clinking, when a voice approached from the water. “You look lonely, doll.” You looked away from the bartender and down to the man who had swam over to you. His loud friend. Your brows furrowed as the sun glinted on the surface of the water and you shook your head. “No, I’m fine.” A smile hoping to deter him. But he remained. “Say, we’re all going down to the Standard Surf tonight. Polo game. Could be pretty fun. You wanna join?” The man pushed his hands back through his hair and the water dropped down onto his nose and his cheeks. Somehow, the dissonant chaos had quietened. You looked away from him and towards his friends who were standing waist deep in the water and he, the reader, had his large arms crossed as they all watched closely to their friend’s weak attempt at bagging a date. “And you’re here trying to get a date from me?” You asked. The man’s hopeful smile fell and there were small, scattered mumbles and chuckles. “You guys aren’t the quietest keys on the piano, y'know? No, thank you.” “Oh, um… okay-” “But, hey,” You felt a surge of adrenaline grow from the way his arms crossed over his chest and the raised eyebrow he gave whilst monitoring the situation ignited something, “your reading-friend. Who is he?” You slipped down from the perch to stand toe-to-toe with his friend that had the courage to approach. He looked over his shoulder and turned to follow your line of sight, scoffing and shaking his head, “Mr. Serious? That’s just Aaron.” “Hm.” You hummed and kept looking at him, lifting your sunglasses to get a better look and let him know you were watching him and only him. “Him?” He asked and you ignored his words. “Aaron…” You liked it, “I’ll go with him. Not you.” You smiled and lowered your sunglasses again before making your way back towards the shadows and climbing out of the pool, knowing they were watching. All watching. You had left his friend alone and confused but that much you didn’t care about. 

For the rest of the early-afternoon, you reclined in your chair with your towel over your legs and deciding to remain in the sun as it crept slowly up from your feet, you continued to watch the group of five men at the opposite end of the deck. You didn’t care that it was obvious. You didn’t care that they would sometimes look back at you. Their views never mattered. But when Aaron looked (which wasn’t very often), your heart would stop and your breathing would deepen. You wanted to talk to him and yet somehow, you didn’t quite have the courage to approach. When he climbed out of the pool and returned to his lounger, that was when you noticed his gazes lingered. What was he thinking about as he dried off in the sun? Was he thinking about you? Could he read your mind? Was he also just too tense to approach?

His book remained on the paving stones, ashtray sitting atop and preventing the breeze from fluttering the pages open. Though his sunglasses returned to his face, every look in your direction was burning into your skin. You had captured his attention and now had no idea what to do with it. You let the heat build in your gut, your insides swirling and you even found yourself jonesing for a cigarette although you had given up to support your girlfriend and her cold-turkey attack. His friends disbanded slowly, one at a time to make their mission of grabbing some lunch. They all wanted subs, it was loud enough to hear for the whole community. But Aaron remained and when they were gone, his book returned to his hand and with one arm behind his head, he started to leaf through the pages. When his friends passed you by, they gave small looks- knowing looks that made your heart race. A part of you said that it was now-or-never. To go before his friends returned and gave him hell. But as you prepared to stand and rid yourself of the towel, you glanced over and he was no longer reading. He was back in the pool and looking at you. His brow raised slightly above his frames and he lifted one hand from the water to beckon you over with two fingers.

pt. 2

----

this will be in 3 parts because part 1 was too big to post so hang on buddies.

[angelic-waffles]

Thought everyone’s lotf ocs were cool so I plugged my girl Angie into the book ^^

Three hour drawing of her pre and post island- I think she would thrive lmao. Info on her bellow

She’s a bit of toxic honestly which, yk unsurprisingly makes island life a walk in the park

Pre crash- She lived with her dad Alexander who’s 28 (yeah fill in the blanks) Her mom left when she was a baby because she never really wanted to be a mom but Alex was an amazing dad for Angie, even if he was young, working two jobs and studying law all while raising a wild child. Her dad also had a habit of doing her hair every morning. For him, it was a way to bond. He’d always do it up in pigtails with yellow bows.

Post crash- She doesn’t have any strong convictions or connections. She makes herself useful to whoever is currently most powerful so they’ll return the favor. She doesn’t particularly like anyone, but she doesn’t particularly dislike anyone either. Naturally, she uses this neutrality to her benefit. She’d survive pretty long. Assuming we follow cannon and they get saved, she would survive the whole book. Assuming we go from the no rescue angle, she’d definitely get killed, just later on. The only person (or people) on the island she’s really loyal to are the littluns. She thinks they’re too young to be going through all they are, and she really just wants them to be able to have a life one day after all the chaos of the island. She doesn’t show this though. She calls them brats and plays with them, but sometimes she’ll put some fruit on lower branches, or make sure all the littluns are safe and without major injury.

General info- Angie is 12 years old, Latina, and uses she/her. Personality wise she lies almost compulsively. Sometimes about big things, sometimes about small things, but it’s an urge she has that she has a really hard time controlling. She’s also very energetic! She bounces from wall to wall and afterwards still has energy to do things like listen in on people’s bs or instigate something. Bringing me to another trait of her’s, she’s a terrible instigator. If she smells even a little bit of drama she’ll find out as much as she can. And if nothing is to be found? Well she doesn’t tend to lie here and there… But she’s not just some lying asshole, she’s very dedicated to things and people if you give her a chance, she also has a strong interest in fashion and music. Back home her walls are absolutely covered in posters or drawings of her favorite pop stars from the radio. All of them do seem to be women though, hmmmmm. I think of her sort of as an unholy blend of Regina Gorge and Kokichi Ouma

Aaaand as a little thank you for sticking around, here’s a screen shot of this hand because I love drawing pudgy baby hands but I can only justify it for my I’m so not Going to Heaven characters or kids, and thankfully she’s a kid! So yay chubby little baby hands

[cheriecelestial]

Ocean Eyes Pt.I

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ mild angst(?), not proofread

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Percy Jackson x Gojo fem!OC

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ In which, fate leads an aspiring jujutsu sorcercer to discover her destiny as a half god in a camp for demigods.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Revamping an old series on a whim. And as my previous a/n read “based on this one dream i had and also cuz pjo was my first comfort series and jjk is my current one (only s1)” And as always

Comment, Like and Reblog ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.

If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth and try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened. But if you recognize yourself in these pages - if you feel something stirring inside - stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Gojo Kanao—or Kanao Gojo, following Western naming conventions. I’m fourteen years old and raised in Tokyo, Japan. As the youngest member of the Gojo clan, niece of Gojo Satoru, and an aspiring sorcerer, my life was unfolding just as it should. Days were spent training and studying jujutsu, while nights were dedicated to assisting on missions—though only under supervision, since my uncle deemed me too young to go on missions alone but too old to remain entirely inexperienced with curses.

Everything was going smoothly until three weeks ago when my uncle received a call from an “old family friend”. Before I knew it, I was packing my bags to enroll in a so-called “summer camp” for “kids like me.” The irony of that statement isn’t lost on me—because aside from my uncle, I’m pretty much one of a kind. It’s not like every other generation produces a Six Eyes user blessed with Limitless. My existence is what many call an “anomaly in the world's power balance,” sparking endless debates among the higher-ups. Not that it bothers me anymore—especially since Uncle Satoru has no qualms about threatening to obliterate anyone who so much as looks at me the wrong way.

He took me in after my father passed away when I was four, and he was just eighteen. With my father gone, the Gojo clan was essentially reduced to just my uncle and me, as little was known about my birth mother. In fact, the first time my uncle even learned that he had both a sister-in-law and a niece—thanks to his absentee older brother—was when the so-called family friend showed up at the Gojo Clan’s doorstep, dragging along a drooling four-year-old with white pigtails.

As shocking as it must have been to suddenly become a single parent, my uncle—or as I call him, Satoru nii-san—adapted to the role with surprising ease. His reasoning? “The baby looks like a mini-me, and I vibe with that.” And, of course, in typical Satoru fashion, he never missed a chance to remind me and my also-adopted siblings, Megumi and Tsumiki Fushiguro, that “having you kids just adds to my dilf appeal.” This was inevitably followed by Megumi deadpanning, Tsumiki offering an awkward smile, and me audibly gagging. Needless to say, he’s nowhere near as beloved—or as tolerable—as he seems to think he is.

“How could you do this to me?” I mumbled, my eyes following the blurred silhouettes of trees rushing past the car window. The only response I got was a string of barely audible curses— pathetic, really.

After countless fights, screaming matches, tears, scratches, and even a few failed escape attempts, I had ultimately been forced to attend this so-called camp. My uncle’s whimsical descriptions—strawberry fields, flying horses, Greek gods, and half-goat people—were enough for Megumi to call absolute bullshit. But as much as I hated to admit it, I knew it was real. After all, it was where I had spent the first four years of my life.

“Nyao-chan, this is the 30th time you’ve said that in the past fifteen hours of flight time. Do better.”

I didn’t even need to look—I could feel nii-san rolling his eyes from the front seat.

“Toru-nii, don’t call me that,” I hissed, turning away with a dramatic hmph, hoping—just maybe—that a shred of guilt would creep into his conscience.

I remembered that place well, and it wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Under different circumstances, I might have even enjoyed visiting. But he refused to acknowledge how much this would derail my progress as a sorcerer. Instead, he’d brushed off my concerns with, “Your development as a demigod is just as fundamental to your growth as your development as a sorcerer. Take it as a learning experience. Have fun. And for the love of god, make some friends that aren’t the Fushiguros or your creepy pet snake.”

Yeah. Like that would end well.

The last time I tried socializing, some boy called me a brat, and I instinctively activated my cursed technique—for the first time ever—in an attempt to kill him. A stunning breakthrough, sure, but not exactly a great first impression. Fortunately for them, the whole incident was ultimately brushed off with an ‘all’s well that ends well’ verdict.

I, on the other hand, walked away from that disaster with a solid 2-star rating. Would not recommend.

“I mean, considering how much you love small spaces, scratching, and hissing, you might as well be one,” he teased. “But hey, cheer up! You’re going to see your Chiron-sensei and Dino oji-san again. Won’t that be fun? All those childhood memories flooding back. Plus, I hear summer camps are really fun.” The exaggerated emphasis on those names made me cringe internally.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized my so-called Dino-oji-san was actually Dionysus, the Greek god of wine. I could only imagine what he must have felt, holding a toddler in his lap while she gleefully butchered his name to suit her convenience. The sheer secondhand embarrassment of the memory made me even less willing to go.

“What kind of summer camp runs in November ?” I shot back, earning an exasperated sigh from him.

Our satyr chauffeur casually mentioned that we were fifteen minutes away from camp. At that point, turning back wasn’t even an option. As the car sped along the winding road, I sank deeper into my seat, arms crossed, scowling at the window like a kid being dragged to school. My fingers drummed against my knee—an unconscious habit I had picked up from nii-san, though I’d rather die than admit it.

"You’re pouting," he pointed out, amusement lacing his voice.

"I’m brooding," I corrected, turning to glare at him. "There’s a difference."

He only grinned. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, Nyao-chan."

I clenched my fists. "Stop. Calling. Me. That."

Before I knew it, the car came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. There was nothing ahead but an empty stretch of asphalt, surrounded by dense vegetation on either side. “What happened ?” I asked, leaning forward.

The satyr turned to me and blinked. That’s when I realized I had spoken in Japanese instead of English. With the exception of my struggles with dyslexia, English had been fairly easy to learn—I credited Satoru-nii’s obsession with Friends and Britney Spears for that. But learning in general had always come naturally to me. I never had to try too hard to pick up a skill, something that both puzzled and frustrated others. Even I didn’t fully understand it. Apparently, it was a trait of a true Gojo—being godly perfect. That applied to everything except my cursed energy technique. At some point, I had hit a plateau, no matter what method I tried. My growth had stalled. Maybe that’s why he was sending me here.

“She meant, why did we stop?” Nii-san asked, his tone laced with amusement.

“We’re here,” the satyr replied simply. 

I glanced around in confusion. I saw nothing. Then, without a hint of urgency, the satyr stepped out of the car, gesturing for us to follow. With luggage in hand and no better options, we did. As we walked, the dense vegetation seemed to part before us, revealing a familiar yet distant world. My stomach twisted as a rush of forgotten memories threatened to surface—the scent of strawberries in the air, the distant sound of laughter, a warm voice calling my name.

I shook my head. No. That was then. This is now.

I let out a slow breath, steeling myself. Nii-san, of course, was already opening the door, stepping out with his usual carefree swagger. I had no doubt he was about to make a grand spectacle of my arrival, much to my horror. 

“Alright, kiddo,” he said, stretching. “Time to make some demigod friends!”

I scowled. “ I’d rather be cursed.”

He smirked. “That can be arranged.”

I swallowed hard. This is really happening.

After a short hike through the woods, we arrived at a large stone arch. It was a mix of weathered wood and ancient stone, covered in cracks and patches of moss. Greek symbols were carved into the top, their edges worn with age. I stared at the inscription, and to my surprise, the letters began to shift. At first, I thought my dyslexia was acting up, but then I realized—the symbols were rearranging themselves, forming words in English. Within seconds, the inscription clearly read: CAMP HALFBLOOD

“You look surprised. What do you see, Kana ?” Nii-san asked, his eyes on me. I described what had just happened, and he smirked, muttering something under his breath. Curious, I reached out and extended my hand toward the arch. Much like a jujutsu curtain, my fingers passed effortlessly through the barrier, which emitted a faint blue glow upon contact.

“Nii-san, you try it,” I gestured for him to do the same.

He reached out, but the moment his hand touched the barrier, it resisted, pulsing as if rejecting him. A flicker of amusement crossed his face before he pulled back.

“This barrier is stronger than I expected,”he remarked to the satyr, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I'm impressed.” The satyr puffed up slightly at the praise, his hooves shifting in the dirt. “Well, of course. It keeps out unwanted guests,” he said pointedly, glancing at Nii-san, who only grinned in response.

“Nii-san, if you really wanted to break through, how long would it take?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. If you asked anyone to describe Gojo Satoru in a single word, it would undoubtedly be ‘strongest’. There wasn’t a barrier he couldn’t break or a curse he couldn’t exorcise—as long as he put in the effort. He tilted his head, considering it. “Hmmm… it’s strong, I’ll give it that. But we wouldn’t want to put an entire camp full of kids in danger, right?”

I shrugged, accepting that as a fair enough reason despite him not giving me a straight forward answer.

“From here on out, it's just her. No one else can go inside,” the satyr said. “Yeah, we got that,” Satoru-nii replied, clapping his hands with a bright smile. “Just give us two minutes, okay? You know I need a moment to say goodbye to my precious baby.” The satyr blinked, then silently stepped away, out of earshot. Satoru-nii cupped my face in his hands, his voice soft and trembling as if he were about to cry. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “You didn’t feel any guilt over the past few days, and now you’re crying?”

“It’s not that simple!” he protested, his lower lip quivering. “I know I have to let my baby bird leave the nest because it’s what’s best for you, but I—” His voice broke, and a pang of guilt hit me. I sighed and hugged him. “I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be fine.”

“Call me every day, you hear me? And make sure you eat well and get enough sleep. Oh my god, I sound like an old woman!” Gojo Satoru had a talent for completely ignoring the fact that Megumi, Tsumiki, and I technically had mothers —albeit either an absent or dead one—and acted like he was the one who’d carried us for nine months and given birth. But hey, who doesn’t appreciate a little extra coddling now and then?

“I can't believe you're leaving already.”

He chuckled, quickly shifting his tone to cover up the emotion in his voice. “What, you thought I’d stick around? I’d love to play the doting guardian, but this camp doesn’t exactly cater to ‘normal’ people like me.” He winked. “Besides, I’ve got my own life, you know.”

I scowled. “Debatable.”

The satyr cleared his throat. “We should get moving, Kanao. Chiron’s waiting.”

I rolled my eyes at the satyr before looking back at Nii-san. “But in any case, I’ll be just fine. Don’t worry.”

“I know. You'll be fine. Always. You'll be better than me, I know it.” Satoru nii-san’s voice softened, dropping into a low, almost wistful whisper. “Even though you're the best there is?” I asked, offering him a gentle smile. To that, he said something I didn’t expect. “You've inherited only my powers, I don't want you to inherit my tragedies too.”

His words left a bitter taste in my mouth. People often assumed that because he was the strongest, his life was easy. But it was people like him who suffered the most—so much so that sometimes, it made you wish you didn’t have power at all.

“And lastly,” he continued, as if the previous conversation had never happened, “don’t kill anyone. But if you do, get rid of the witnesses and call Nii-san first. Nii-san will take care of it.”

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. First of all, shouldn’t he be teaching his kid to be nice to people? And second, why was he referring to himself in the third person?

“Shouldn't you be saying ‘don’t bully people and be nice’ or something?” I asked, though his advice wasn’t the first of its kind. My brother Megumi had a reputation for beating up people at school, but Nii-san never saw an issue with it. The people Megumi fought were rarely innocent, and besides, he never lost a fight—so no shame was brought to the family name.

“If there's anyone you think shouldn’t be alive, then they shouldn’t be. Just remember, the world’s your playground. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” he replied with complete conviction. One thing everyone knew about Gojo Satoru was that he was a firm believer in Gojo family supremacy—and he wasn’t wrong.

“Then what about those sleazy higher-ups?” I quipped, knowing full well what he was trying to do. I was aware of his grand plan to tear down the old order and build a new jujutsu world, which was the real reason he’d become a teacher. It was a vision I’d bought into the moment he showed me the dream of it. But for that dream to become a reality, I had to grow stronger. I needed to become more, become unstoppable. So, I’d gladly accept any wisdom the Greeks had to offer. By the time I was done here, I’d make sure I was the strongest demigod they’d ever laid their eyes on.

“All in due time Kana-chan.”

A/n: comment to be added into the taglist :)

[girl-lostconnection]

Now that I’m really thinking THOUGHTS on the clones idea, imagine the horror of being in your body except it ISN’T you. Every scar and injury you’ve ever taken, ever made yours is just gone now, your body lacks every bit of damage it’s ever taken so suddenly after you’ve gotten so adapted to your old appearance.

The body dysphoria of it all, especially if the clones are younger versions of you from when you first joined the helldivers. So not only do you lose the scars you worked so hard for, but also every bit of your age to the point where you look like a cadet again. Wouldn’t it be traumatic to see the person you once were? To see the version of you that’s so, SO, young and undamaged in every mirror/surface you pass instead of just occasionally seeing it in the cryo pods

Jesus, that’s some good horror right there. I read a post on here (can’t remember whose it was) that irl healing magic would be so fucking uncanny because you are a soldier with no scars. A soldier that looks so young but isn’t. A soldier who’s shiny and new and it even feels wrong because that’s not how it’s supposed to be.

Also, while writing previous snippet to your ask I thought about the Helldiver that approached 141, because yk I wrote that his fingers are scarred. So he does have scars. And then my mind came back to this ask of yours and I started to think about scars being kind of a sign of how old the Helldiver actually is? Because imagine if once in a while they need to make new copies of your body because command found out that apparently looking 18 again fucks too much with minds of Helldivers.

So what if every five years or so you’d need to make a new copy of the body you’ll be “reinforced” into? And this way at least some scars will get transferred.

So Helldivers are actually able to tell how old the Helldiver in front of them is if they can see the scars, kind of a professional thing for them. And yk the more scars Helldiver has the more it could signal to other divers that this one is not just old — they are good.

They survived each time, they got back without losing their body, without the need to get “reinforced” into their younger unscarred version.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 30

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1300

Masterlist

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The waiter arrived at our table and placed two slices of cake with cups of coffee in front of us. It was 5 PM, and I was sitting in a tearoom, facing Lucy. Three weeks had passed since my breakup with Alessia, and this was the first time I was seeing Lucy again. I had wanted to maintain some distance, as I was still shocked by my breakup, which had hurt me deeply. We had exchanged a few messages to check in on each other. She had asked if we could meet this week, and I had agreed, in a neutral place—the tearoom.

"We've been reduced to having tea together!" she said with a teasing smile.

"Tea is just fine, Lucy," I replied, returning her smile.

She looked as beautiful as ever, in a much more casual outfit than usual: jeans, a sweater—her Sunday look.

"What are you doing afterward?" she asked.

"I'm babysitting Jeanne tonight!"

She made a face that made me laugh.

"Well, duty calls—I'm a godmother!"

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Her blue eyes, which I had truly missed.

"Ona, I have a proposition for you. If you have no plans next weekend, come with me to Marseille! My party is organizing a conference this weekend, where elected officials are invited. As mayor of a large city, I have to be there Saturday afternoon. For the rest, I'll sneak away!" 

I had no plans for the next weekend, but I wasn’t sure if I would accept.

"Don't tell me I’m going to have to present my business, huh?" I replied with a mocking smile.

"No, young lady, I’m asking you to come along."

Deep down, I really wanted to go. I let her stew for a bit, hesitating. I could tell she was getting irritated by it, which secretly amused me.

"Okay, Ona, if you don’t want to come, then don’t—end of story!" Lucy concluded the conversation.

Before leaving the tearoom to pick up Jeanne at Alexia’s, I kissed Lucy on the cheek, thanking her for the coffee.

I added, "See you next weekend then!"

She looked at me, surprised.

"Well, yes, we’re going to Marseille, right?"

I hurried off, giving her a final wink.

On the way to the train station, I was a bit lost in my thoughts. I had agreed because I wanted to spend the weekend with her. I had missed her. But at the same time, I was scared. Scared of the unknown, because I didn’t know where things were going. I wanted to take my time after Alessia; the wound was still fresh. And I knew I was going nowhere with Lucy. But the desire was too strong. The train ride went by very quickly. We chatted with half the train, Lucy knowing almost everyone. I was always impressed by her notoriety, even outside the city. It had been the same on the train from Lyon. Her face had graced the local and even national newspapers several times. She was the mayor of the largest city in France, and her age at her first election—32—had impressed everyone. Moreover, she was one of the rising stars in her political party, and I had even read that she could have a more national career in the near future, within a government. I watched her closely during the journey, talking, chatting, smiling.

We arrived at a small hotel by the Old Port that she had booked herself. She didn’t want to stay in the large, charm-free hotel where all the elected officials were staying. I was surprised when she handed me the key to my room. She laughed openly when she saw my face.

"You didn’t think you’d be sleeping in my room, did you? I’m not an easy girl!"

I laughed in return.

I spent the day walking around, visiting Marseille. I ended it at Prado Beach. The sun was burning my back, my feet buried in the sand, and I listened to the sound of the waves in the background. A voice pulled me from my drowsiness.

"My God, Ona, you’re going to cook out here!"

I turned around, it was Lucy, who had swapped her chic outfit for a stunning coral dress.

"It’s after 6 PM, and it’s September!" I replied.

"And we’re in Marseille! Come on, turn around, I’m putting on some sunscreen," she said.

She told me about her day, her speech, the people present... but soon enough, I stopped listening. I was focused on her hands. The feel of her hands on my skin made my entire body shiver. She took care to massage me, playing with my nerves, sliding her hand lower towards my buttocks, and a little more towards my breast. I was in a highly excited state, holding back from moaning. I imagined her smiling behind my back, pleased with the effect she was having. 

She stopped. I felt her breath behind my ear.

"You look stunning in that swimsuit!"

I ended my suffering by standing up and diving into the cool Mediterranean water.

That evening, we ate at a small restaurant by the sea. I asked her about her future after the upcoming elections. I remembered asking her the same question that first time at the bar, in front of her house. She had been evasive then.

"I’m not really sure. I just know that I want to travel for the first two months. After that, it all depends..."

"I’ve read that you might have big roles in the future, like minister!" 

She smiled.

"Don’t always believe what the newspapers say. To be honest with you, it was offered to me once—secretary of state."

I widened my eyes in surprise.

"And you didn’t accept?"

"I was much happier in my city, directly impacting people’s lives, than in a secretary of state role where I’d be useless. It was the secretary of state for sports! Sports! Can you believe it? I only do it once a month!"

I burst out laughing. We finished the evening by strolling along the corniche until we reached a wooden pier. Despite the beginning of autumn, it was warm. The sky was clear, with a magnificent full moon. We sat there, on the pier, in silence, contemplating the view. I felt good, the wind on my back, the smell of the sea, the effect of the white wine in my body. I had an impulse. To swim. To take a midnight dip. I had been doing this since I was young, during my vacations in Corsica. I loved it. 

I looked around, no one was in sight. I started undressing, layer after layer, until I was in my underwear, under Lucy’s amazed gaze, which amused me greatly.

"Aren’t you going to stop, Ona? What are you doing?"

I was now laughing, standing naked before her.

"There’s no one around! I love midnight swims. Don’t tell me you don’t like it?" I said with a wink.

She looked around, stressed.

"Maybe as a child! You’re crazy!"

I turned towards her before diving into the water, calling out: "I didn’t know you were so uptight, Lucy!"

The contact of the water with my skin was delicious as I swam among the shadows of the clouds created by the moon. A few seconds later, she was behind me, naked as well.

"You’re really a little devil, Ona!" 

She began kissing me, wrapping her legs around my torso. My whole body electrified. We were standing in the water, the waves reaching our breasts. We kissed passionately, hungrily, reliving sensations we hadn’t had in weeks. We repeated the same gestures. Together we bit, licked each other’s necks. Together our hands wandered lower, from our breasts to our intimate areas. Together we penetrated each other in a shared rhythm. Together we reached climax, eyes locked, with the moon in the background. My breath was cut short, my legs trembling.

That night, I found myself in her room. When I woke up, she was already standing, watching me from the bathroom door.

"Up already?"

"Yes, I was keeping an eye on you."

I furrowed my brow.

"Keeping an eye on me?"

"Yes, to make sure you didn’t run off in a taxi like last time!"

She smiled.