#WHATS THE WORST THING I COULD SAY THINGS ARE BETTER IF I STAY SO LONG AND GOOD NIGHT SO LONG AND GOOD NIGHT

[lastoneout]

Anyone saying that the "tarrifs targeting red and swing states" thing is good is getting an insta-block BTW I've already seen people in the general tags saying we deserve it and that they hope everyone in Texas and Florida and every other red/purple state suffers immensely and it's sick. Our states have some of the worst voter suppression and largest marginalized populations. Trump doesn't give a fuck about his voter base, and neither does like any GOP politician, targeting red states in the hopes that making republican voters suffer will prompt GOP Governors and Congressman to stand up to Trump will never work. Like keeping us poor and illiterate and unemployed is HOW THEY STAY IN POWER. They do not give a single shit about the American people, so long as they can eat(and they will be able to no matter what) they couldn't give a less of a shit about their constituents starving. Hell, us starving will probably make them happy because they can paint you as the enemy and rile up whoever the fuck here is still allowed to vote in two years, which, statistically will not be the starving non-white, disabled, and queer people.

Don't laugh while innocent people suffer just because you don't like how a, let's be real, miniscule percentage of them voted. Voter suppression and interference was at an all time high, Trump basically admitted in front of god and everyone that Elon Musk fucked with things so he could win and the only reason no one did anything is because he's so old and so used to lying it's almost impossible to tell when he's being serious or just rambling bullshit.

Don't any of you fucking dare take joy in the suffering of innocent people. Hell, you shouldnt take joy in Trump voters suffering either, because you know, no one should have to starve and fear for their lives at all but I know actually holding true to your political beliefs is kinda hard for some of you so whatever. Just remember that laughing while people suffer is what the enemy does, and you're supposed to be better than them. At least, that's what y'all solid blue state assholes keep saying. Maybe shut the fuck up and act like it for once.

(Also I am not pretending to know what Canada should do, aside from protect their own citizens as well as swear to take marginalized American people fleeing for their lives, but I feel like you could just do country wide tarrifs instead of specifically singling out states who are only red due to massive voter suppression and election interference?? Always remember, if every single eligible American voted the GOP would never win another election for the rest of fucking time. So yeah, they're right to act, I just don't fully agree that they way they've chosen to act is going to work they way they think it will, which sucks for everyone on this goddamn continent.)

[vettelsvee]

COME WHAT MAY | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PROLOGUE: A PHONE CALL AND A NEW BEGINNING [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

come what may masterlist | formula 1 masterlist

Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Red Bull intern & Webber girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Sebastian breaks up with Hanna and Y/N, his best friend, offers him to go to her hometown to try disconnect from everything. However, things take a turn for the worst when Mark Webber, Seb's teammate and Y/N's boyfriend, calls her and starts thinking she's cheating on him with Vettel.

WORD COUNT: 7337

WARNINGS: Angst, curse words and bad language, such a toxic Mark Webber, mentions of death, cancer and suicide

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri @03071987 [feel free to join the taglist!]

VEE'S NOTES: I absolutely adored writing this, so I hope you like it reading too! If so, feel free to comment me your thoughts, as well as rebloging it since I'd appreciate that a lot! Thank you so much for reading in advance <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Linz, Austria January 15th, 2010

"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice snapped you back to reality.

Carefully, you put away the journal he had given you for your twenty-first birthday, which had served as your therapy ever since, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with an energy you hadn’t felt in a long time and cheerfully walked over to your desk. You carefully moved aside the scattered notes you still hadn’t put away despite the semester ending two weeks ago and made sure everything looked as presentable as possible. Your straightened hair fell over your shoulders, though your bangs needed a little fixing, nothing you couldn’t adjust with your fingers. You also applied some lip balm, more to add a bit of shine than to keep your lips hydrated. Lastly, you adjusted your clothes as best as you could, trying to relax as much as possible and, most importantly, remind yourself that he would be more than happy to see you, no matter how you looked.  

You knew that Sebastian Vettel was just your best friend, but in some way, you always tried to appear as perfect as possible before him to show you were worthy of his friendship.  

You knew that, no matter how much Sebastian had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern while he was already a driver, he was better than you in every way.  

The door suddenly opened, pulling you out of your thoughts and revealing your two younger sisters peeking through the gap.  

“Why are you taking so long?” Amelie, 15, inquired. “It’s not like your boyfriend just arrived…”

“Yeah, yeah! Why are you getting all pretty?” The youngest, Louisa, 8, chimed in. “Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He’s talking to dad and uncle Hans about football, and I’m so bored…”

“Shut up you idiot,” Amelie responded, giving her a light shoulder tap. “Don’t listen to her,” she turned to you. “What they’re actually doing is grilling Sebastian about why he’s here today and, more importantly, why he’s staying with us for a few days.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. As far as you could remember, Seb hadn’t mentioned anything about staying over.  

“What do you mean, staying with us? Seb said that?”

“Uncle Hans thinks he’s just a friend, but dad believes you’re sleeping with him while also sleeping with Mark,” Amelie retorted.  

“How the hell would I be sleeping with Seb?!” you shouted, making your sisters step inside the room and slamming the door shut. “That’s… ridiculous, that’s what it is,” you added, trying your best not to curse.  

“But if dad says it, it must be true, Didi,” Louisa replied, a bit annoyed. “You know dad never lies to us.”

“Listen to me, both of you,” you cut them off. “I need you to behave and promise me something.”

Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at you.  

“I don’t want you to mention Mark in front of Seb. No jokes, no side comments about how much you dislike him… nothing. Got it?”  

“Why can’t I tell Seb I don’t like Mark if it’s the truth? Do I have to lie to him?” Louisa asked with her characteristic innocence. “I like Seb a lot, and I don’t want to lie to him…”

“Because…”

“If you’re hesitating that much it must be because you really are sleeping with Seb.”

“Amelie, shut it! Lou’s here!” you scolded, glancing at Louisa.  

“What does sleeping with mean? Does it mean you’re dating?” Louisa asked, looking at you one again with a mix of curiosity and doubt.

“Seb doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, okay?”

Your statement left your younger sisters stunned. Louisa had liked Hanna quite a bit, and she had always been nice to her whenever they met. Amelie, on the other hand, even though she had liked the German woman, started wondering why that same German, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend, had suddenly broken up with her.  

“Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and give them a convincing answer, even though you didn’t have one herself.  

“Yeah, Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore,” you replied as calmly as possible. “Don’t ask why because he didn’t give me many details other than, well… that he needed a break.”

“Does Mark know about this not-so-surprise visit?” Amelie asked, crossing her arms.  

Your heart skipped a beat. If there was one thing you hated about your middle sister, it was how nosy she was for a 15-year-old. If she was like this now, you didn’t even want to imagine what she’d be like in a few years.  

“Not everything revolves around Mark, Ame,” you brushed off the question because you didn’t know how to answer that no, your boyfriend had no idea about this visit, which you were more than thrilled about. “Seb is my best friend, and he’s going through a lot. And do you know what good friends do in bad times? They’re there for each other.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say…” Amelie replied, unconvinced.  

Louisa, who was about to say how happy she was that Vettel was there with them and how much she preferred him over Webber as your boyfriend, was interrupted by their father’s deep voice calling from downstairs:  

“Y/N Y/L/N, get down here! Your guest is tired of waiting!”

You quickly checked your reflection one last time, grabbed your phone, and, before opening the door, turned to your sisters with a stern look:  

“You two,” you pointed at them, “no jokes today. Not a word about Mark or anything related to him.”

The youngest nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly as she headed for the stairs. Amelie, however, simply shrugged and smirked mischievously.  

“I’ll think about it,” she said before following Lou down the stairs.  

“Amelie!” you hissed under your breath.  

“Fine, fine. I promise…”

Rolling your eyes, you made one final check to ensure you looked perfect before stepping out. Your heart pounded uncontrollably as you descended the stairs. You tried to push aside any thoughts that could make your reunion with Sebastian awkward, or let your nerves get the best of you.

However, everything seemed to go to hell the moment your eyes landed on the German.  

Sebastian was there, chatting animatedly with your aunt, Johanna, who was chopping vegetables. You were taken aback to see him with his sweater sleeves rolled up, still wearing his Red Bull beanie, as he carefully cut something.  

Afraid your friend might catch your staring, you quickly glanced at the dining table, where your father and uncle were still engrossed in the football discussion Lou had mentioned. Your sisters were at the other end of the living room, turning on the Wii console, likely to start a game of Mario Kart and try to get Seb to join them.  

You looked back at the driver the moment you heard him laugh, probably at something your aunt had said. He looked so natural, so comfortable, as if he truly belonged in your family. He hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, nearly three months ago, but you suddenly felt a strange sensation in your stomach, similar to the anxiety you got during exams, but for an entirely different reason.  

The more you observed him, the more you noticed how tired he looked. How… sad he seemed. And somehow, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, that made you feel absolutely awful.

Or perhaps you were beginning to admit what you had never acknowledged to yourself in order not to ruin the friendship you had always needed but never truly had.

“Ah, Y/N! Look who I put to work. He’s better than me at cutting onions. You should tell Seb to come visit us more often, so he can help me when your sisters don’t want to.”

Seb turned at the mention of his name. The smile he had missed so much appeared on his face the moment he saw you. Before you could say anything, he closed the small distance between you at an incredible speed and, without a word, embraced you.  

You remained still for a few seconds, surprised and unsure of what to do. The contact completely unsettled you, but as soon as he started stroking your hair, you relaxed and returned the hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and pulling him closer.  

“You don’t even have an idea of how much I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your head.  

“I missed you too.” 

And you have no idea how much, you thought, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.  

Why did your entire being seem to change, becoming something so complicated and inexplicable, whenever he was near?  

If only he knew what that farewell at the last Grand Prix of the season had meant to you…  

When you pulled apart, the driver studied your face carefully. There was something about you that felt a bit unfamiliar… different. He couldn’t tell if it was your hair, a little shorter since the last time he saw you; the dark circles under your eyes, more pronounced than they should have been after three weeks of vacation before starting your final university semester; or the evident weight loss.  

“I really wanted to see you again,” he forced himself to say instead of asking what had happened to you to make you look so… different.  

You forced a small smile and lowered your gaze, embarrassed by not knowing what else to say. You had thought of telling him that he looked great, because, in your eyes, he always did, but decided against it, considering the reason he had come to visit.  

“So they put you to work, huh?” you finally said, gesturing toward your aunt, who was watching them while continuing to prepare dinner.  

“Not really. I volunteered,” Seb replied with a smile. Johanna was about to say something, but the young man interrupted her. “It’s the least I could do after you let me stay here for a few days.” 

You swallowed hard. You were more than happy to have your friend stay with your family for a few days, but… why couldn’t you remember anything about that conversation?  

“And let me tell you, he’s an excellent volunteer. If only Mark were more like…” 

“You don’t have to treat him like royalty, Johanna,” you cut off your aunt before she could say more. Seb blushed and started nervously playing with his hands. “He’s just…”

“Yes, I know, your friend,” the woman replied, apologizing to you with a glance. “But, as your friend, he is also our guest, and he deserves the best. Besides, he doesn’t complain about my excellent taste in music, unlike someone I know…” She added, glancing sideways at her husband.  

Seb chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter without breaking eye contact with you.  

“At least it’s better than those weird songs Ricciardo used to play when we were at Toro Rosso. Do you remember when he got obsessed with playing Nessun Dorma before every race?”  

“Oh God, don’t remind me. I love classical music, but I still have nightmares about that.”

You both laughed at the memory of the year you met, when you had become each other’s biggest support. Everything had changed, perhaps too much, in those short two years, but what mattered most was that you still had each other, no matter what.  

At least, for now.

You tried to step a little closer to Sebastian, but the sound of your father dragging his chair and moving toward you made you step back shyly.  

“Well then… what’s the plan, Vettel? Are you staying here for a few days?”

Seb nodded nervously at Bernhard’s question. Even though he knew your father well and had met him countless times, he always felt nervous whenever they shared the same space, especially when they had a conversation.  

“Well… yes. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he quickly added, stepping closer to the older man. “I needed to get away from Switzerland for a bit, and even more from Heppenheim… to clear my head. And, to be honest, there’s no one else I’d rather spend this time with.”

His gaze shifted to you, who were trying to process his words. You kept glancing nervously between Bernhard and Sebastian, afraid one of them might say something inappropriate.  

“Of course, kid,” your father finally answered, giving Seb a pat on the back. “You know you’re more than welcome here. Hell, I should pay you extra for taking such good care of my little girl when you’re away!”

“Dad…”  

“I do it gladly, Bernhard. I’ve already told her, but in case she’s forgotten, let me say it again: I love spending time with Y/N.”

You lowered her gaze, embarrassed by all the attention you were receiving, and especially by the scene unfolding before you. You didn’t need to look up to know that Seb had his eyes on her, just like your father. You also knew that your aunt was probably muttering some comparison between your best friend and your boyfriend, and that your uncle would soon join in.  

Sebastian took a chance and, while continuing to talk with Bernhard who, due to his worsening health, had quickly taken a seat on one of the dining island stools, wrapped an arm around your shoulder.  

To their surprise, no one objected.  

“Uh… Dad?” you spoke up, your voice small and hesitant as you carefully removed Seb’s arm and leaned over the kitchen island.  

“Something wrong?”

“Would you mind if… if Seb and I went for a walk?” You asked timidly. “And would it be okay if we had dinner out?” You added, this time addressing your aunt.  

Johanna set down what she was doing and turned to you. She narrowed her eyes slightly, inspecting the pair of friends. Then, she placed the knife on the cutting board and turned to you with a smile.  

“Why are you asking me? You’re twenty-one, almost twenty-two, sweetheart,” she answered, now turning to Bernhard, who agreed with his sister-in-law. “You don’t need our permission to go out, Y/N.”

You opened her mouth to respond but immediately closed it again. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, standing out even more against your now pale skin. You stared straight ahead, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sweater to avoid saying anything inappropriate again.  

To hide the fact that your insecurity and discomfort had, in some way, worsened since certain events with a certain person.  

“I think Y/N just wanted to check in case you were making extra food for dinner, Johanna,” Seb intervened. You met his gaze, silently thanking him for stepping in. “But if you’re worried about anything,” or Y/N, he thought to himself, “I promise to bring her back at a reasonable hour, safe and happy.”

Johanna raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard exchanged knowing looks, probably misinterpreting the German’s words, as they suddenly started chuckling.  

“Don’t even think about setting a curfew for my girl, Vettel. You’re a Formula 1 driver, and my daughter is six months away from graduating university. You’re both adults, for God’s sake!” Bernhard laughed, trying to keep a straight face.  

“We just don’t want you getting into trouble,” your uncle added. “I’m a lawyer, but I wouldn’t want you two as clients, especially not for free.”

Sebastian widened his eyes, unsure how to take the comment. You, on the other hand, just tried not to die of embarrassment, silently praying that the German was taking everything in stride.  

“Not to doubt you two, but, you know… trust is a dangerous thing.”

You can say that again, you thought, remembering the man twelve years older than you who, during your entire winter break, had barely reached out more than twice with phone calls that didn’t even last five minutes.

"Well, I think it's best if we start heading out," Seb commented as he grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "Come on, Y/N," he said, taking your hand while waving goodbye to your family with the other. "We won't be late, I swear!"

Your sisters said their reluctant goodbyes, thinking the German was going to play with them. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard started making bets about what would really happen between the two of you that night.

Johanna was the only one who walked you to the door, carefully adjusting your coats, scarves, and hats as if she was your mother.

"Have fun, you two, you deserve it. And you, Seb, don't think you’re getting out of helping me tomorrow. You still have to teach me that lemon cake recipe you always say your mother makes."

"Don’t worry, Johanna," Seb replied while holding the door open for you. "I’m saving my morning for you and your cooking sessions."

The woman smiled, delighted to have the German around, and said goodbye to you once more.

As soon as you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your faces. You took a moment to inhale and exhale, relaxing and feeling, for the first time in a long while, free. More than anything, you felt like yourself. Seb walked beside you, unable to stop smiling, grateful to be in his best friend’s hometown, with you by his side, helping him get through the rough patch caused by his breakup with Hanna.

"Do you always blush that much around your family, or is it just when you have company?" Seb asked after a while, nudging you playfully with his shoulder while keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Don't start with that, Seb! You know I can be a little shy sometimes..."

"It's okay, I already knew that," he interrupted. "I think it's really cute when you blush."

"Sometimes you're unbearable, you know that?" you shot back, playfully.

"I know, but you love me anyway."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. One you couldn’t argue with because she completely agreed.

And that, more than comforting you, made you worry more and more about your relationship.

Despite the recent snowfall, the streets of Linz were busier than you had expected. The ice-skating rinks were packed, and to your surprise, the winter market stalls, forming a kind of fair that attracted people of all ages almost daily and which you loved visiting, were overflowing with people.

Although taking Seb there had been your original plan for his first day, you had decided to do something more intimate with him instead, something you hadn’t done in a long time, not even with Mark. However, you knew your relationship with the German was special enough to share something so personal with him without regretting it afterward.

"Since this is the first time you’ve come to visit me, I’ve put together a little tour so you can really get to know my city," you explained, looking at him. "That way, when you leave, you’ll know Linz as well as I do. And maybe, if one day you bring someone here..."

"You’re going to show me what tourists don’t usually get to see, aren’t you?" he interrupted. "I mean… promise me you’ll show me every last little corner, even the ones way out on the city outskirts. That could really come in handy someday."

"No problem. I’ll show you everything you want," you replied, flashing him a proud smile.

He laughed at your comment. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he awkwardly brushed his right hand against your left one. You blushed and tried to move it away, but Seb didn’t let you, he ended up taking your hand, not caring that you were just friends and that you had a boyfriend.

Because you were just that, friends. No matter how much he wanted it, he could never, in his life, date someone like you. Because while Mark was already a man with a clear path and a well-established career, he was just a twenty-something still learning from every mistake he made.

With your hands still intertwined, Sebastian’s gaze roamed the streets, the people, and the buildings surrounding them.

"This place is beautiful, and peaceful in its own way despite the bustle. I can see why you love it so much..."

You nodded, feeling your heartbeat speed up. Linz wasn’t the best city in the world, nor did it hold many good memories for you since your mother’s suicide and your sudden move to Spain. But, at the end of the day, it was your home, and hearing him appreciate it meant more to you than you could ever admit.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, stopping every so often so you could point out your old school, your university, and even your favorite café, the one you used to go to when studying at your aunt and uncle’s house became too chaotic.

However, just as you were nearing the place you wanted to take Seb, he broke the silence with a question that, while not entirely unexpected, was the last thing she thought he would ask.

"How are things with Mark?"

The casual question made you slow your pace slightly before quickly recovering and catching up with Sebastian.

"They’re… fine," you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, the usual. He’s in London, I’m here, we call each other..."

Don’t lie to him, Y/N.

"And does that make you happy?"

"Yes, of course."

You wanted to tell Seb the truth, but you couldn’t.

This time, he was the one who needed support, not to listen to complaints and tears about a relationship with a questionable age gap and an even more questionable dynamic.

"And how are you doing after everything with Hanna?" you asked, changing the subject and hoping you hadn’t overstepped. "Ever since you called to tell me what happened, I’ve been worried, but I didn’t want to push..."

Seb’s expression darkened slightly. He let out a sigh that you were sure he had been holding in longer than he would’ve liked, staring straight ahead as you walked.

"We’re okay. I’m okay," he corrected himself. "Nothing weird happened or anything, it’s just that…" he trailed off, possibly choosing his words carefully before continuing. "We ended things amicably, you know? No hard feelings, no fights, nothing like that."

"Well, I’m glad to hear that," you replied, choosing your words carefully as well. "It caught me completely off guard because… I don’t know, it seemed like everything was fine. You two were together for three years…"

"Yeah, three pretty good years, but I think we realized we were only staying together because we were comfortable, because it was our routine, not because we actually loved each other." He paused, looking at you. "She never said it, and neither did I, but I get the feeling we wanted completely different things in life, and that was hurting us, even if we didn’t mean to."

"And that makes it even harder..."

"Exactly," he admitted, giving you a bittersweet smile. "But I feel like it was the right decision for both of us. It’s just that… making such a risky choice after thinking about it for so long, and wanting to do the right thing, is tough. Honestly, right now, being alone again is really difficult, but I guess it’s just a matter of time before I get used to it."

You didn’t know what to say, and you had no clue what deeper meaning lay behind Sebastian’s words.

"You won’t be alone, Seb," you managed to say, trying not to get nervous. "You have me."

He looked at you, his body relaxing slightly as your steps fell back into rhythm.

"I know. And, even if you don’t believe it, that means much more to me than you can imagine."

For a moment, nothing and no one else existed, just you. You stared at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, as thoughts raced through your minds. Thoughts that, if spoken aloud, would haunt them for the rest of your lives, shattering everything you knew and had between you.

It wasn’t until you cleared your throat and quickened your pace that the moment broke.

"Come on, we’re almost there. I have a reservation at seven, and I don’t want us to be late."

"Wherever you say, my dear tour guide," Seb replied.

After walking for a few more minutes, you stopped in front of a restaurant tucked away in a small alley. Sonnengarten, garden of the sun in German, was written at the top of the façade, painted in a warm yellow color. Along with the soft lights illuminating it directly and the hanging flower baskets, it invited people to step inside. The instrumental music playing, what seemed to be rock from the '60s and '70s, was the cherry on top.  

“Well, here we are,” you said, visibly excited as she entered the restaurant.  

Seb watched you, noticing the special sparkle in your eyes.  

“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s obvious this place means a lot to you.”  

“It does,” you nodded, a small smile on your lips. “My mother used to bring us here every weekend. We always switched up our orders because, well, we loved, and still love, trying new things, but my dad always ordered a schnitzel,” you explained with excitement. That only made Seb feel even more grateful that you had brought him to such a special place. “My sisters and I would always try to convince him to try something different and share some of our food, but he always refused and made up some silly excuse.”  

“So, this is like… a sacred place for you, right?”  

“Yes, very much so. But since my mom passed away, we haven’t come back. Actually, this is the first time in years that I’ve come here to eat…”  

Your statement made Seb’s chest tighten. He knew how Rosalie, your mother, had died nearly eight years ago. He was fully aware of the impact it had on your life, which was precisely why he was more than grateful that you were sharing this detail, this part of your life, this seemingly important family tradition, with him.  

His friend. His best friend.  

“Really, Y/N, thank you for bringing me here,” the driver said sincerely.  

Before you could respond, a middle-aged man appeared in front of you. He quickly approached you and hugged you, a gesture you gladly accepted.  

“My dear Miss Y/L/N! It’s been so long, little one! You finally decided to come eat here again… it was about time!”  

“I’m really happy to be back as a customer, Matthias,” you replied kindly.  

The man’s eyes shifted to Sebastian, whom he openly scanned from head to toe. Once he recognized him, his eyes widened. After all, it was widely known in the city that Y/N Y/L/N was not only an intern for one of the most successful Formula 1 teams of the past year but also lucky enough to be working with one of the sport’s rising stars.  

“Well, well, Sebastian Vettel!” the man exclaimed excitedly, offering his hand to the German, who shook it with a smile. “Are you two dating?” he asked curiously.  

“No, no! He’s just a good friend of mine,” you said quickly, avoiding Seb’s gaze. “My… boyfriend,” you managed to say, barely containing youR embarrassment, “is the other Red Bull driver, Mark Webber.”  

“Oh, well, no problem!” Matthias laughed heartily, giving Seb a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Any friend of our Y/N is a friend of ours. Now, come on, I’ll take you to the Y/L/N family table. I’ve been reserving it since Y/N told me she was coming.”  

Sebastian observed you as the waiter led you to a table in a corner by a large window. You simply shrugged and smiled, feeling proud to see how happy and, most importantly, how at ease the boy seemed.  

You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and special at the same time when, before you could sit down, Seb pulled out the chair for you and pushed it in gently once you were seated.  

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, I’ll be back in a bit with the dishes I know are your favorites. Enjoy your evening.”  

The waiter winked at you and, once he was far enough away, you buried your face in your hands, utterly embarrassed by the scene you had just lived through.  

“Oh god… I can’t believe he thought we were together,” you murmured. “Everyone here knows I’m with Mark…”  

“Well, maybe they think we’d make a good couple.”  

Seb laughed at his own comment, and you shot him a death glare, though it didn’t last long as the corner of your lips curved into a smile.  

“Don’t start with that too.”  

“I’m just joking, Y/N,” Vettel said with a satisfied grin. “Besides, if people think we’re together and we get, I don’t know, good tables like this one,” he pointed at their spot, “and free pastries like the ones the bakery lady gave me near your house today, I wouldn’t mind pretending we’re a couple.”  

You rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth that bloomed inside you as you imagined a hypothetical situation where you and Seb were together, where you shared more than just friendship.  

“Well, I think it’s time we have a slightly more serious conversation, so no boyfriends, exes, or fake relationships,” you said as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s the plan for this year? Do you think you can win the championship?”  

“That’s the goal, my dear," he chuckled, pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip. “For now, I think the car is good, and we have a strong team, but you know how things can go…”  

“The important thing is that you have what it takes, Seb: talent and ambition.”  

He smiled, a little shy at your compliment, and adjusted himself in his seat.  

“So, you better be ready to put up with me every time you win,” you continued playfully.  

“Only if you ditch Mark so we can celebrate properly.”  

Sebastian immediately realized he might have messed up with that comment.  

You, instead of responding, did your best to force a smile and act like you hadn’t heard what the German had just said.  

“By the way…” the driver spoke carefully, knowing he might be treading on dangerous ground. “When are we going to plan something? I came here, but you know… plans like we used to make when we were at Toro Rosso and before you started dating Mark…”  

You didn’t know what to say. You hesitated before answering, thinking about how things had changed since you were single and he was in a relationship with Hanna, who had always been wonderful to you and never minded Sebastian and you hanging out together. She had even tagged along on some of their outings, something that made you feel terribly guilty but, at the same time, too bad to refuse given how kind both of them were to you.  

“I don’t know, Seb. Things are… complicated, different… It’s nothing you don’t already know.”  

It’s obvious there are things Seb doesn’t know. Don’t fool yourself.  

“Well, we’ll come up with something,” he replied, trying to believe his own words. “We could go out after a race, grab something to eat… Or, I don’t know, during the summer break I could take you to the karting track where I used to go as a kid and see Michael…”  

You couldn’t keep listening because it hurt. The idea of doing such personal and meaningful things with Sebastian was difficult to process, especially considering you were dating Mark, and no matter how much you tried to talk to him about it, he wouldn’t take it well. You didn’t deserve that kind of attention, even though it was the only way someone had ever shown her… affection, love, or any of its variations. Mark had barely paid you any attention since you started dating, something you had noticed in other couples but had never experienced yourself.  

Seb kept talking, but the sound of your phone ringing, a childish melody set by his sister Louisa, snapped you back to reality.  

Your heart clenched when you saw Mark’s name on the screen.  

Your stomach twisted, anxiety creeping in, the weight of everything you hadn’t told anyone, not even Seb, suddenly pressing down on you again, returning in full force as if it had never left, not even when Webber seemed to have forgotten about you.  

“Are you going to answer?” Seb asked, tilting his head slightly as he noticed how doubtful you were.

You didn't move. You couldn't. You weren't ready to face a call from your boyfriend after weeks of not hearing from him, especially not in the situation you were in.

And even less so considering who you were spending time with at that moment, and how stubborn Mark had been about your relationship with Sebastian ever since you started dating, even knowing that you were, in reality, just very good friends.

“It’s just… It’s Mark,” was all you could whisper.

“And are you just going to let it ring? Come on, Y/N, he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like he’s going to kill you if you answer.”

“I’ll call him when we get home,” you swallowed hard, feeling your hands starting to sweat.

“Y/N,” Seb said, sounding more authoritative than he would have liked. “It’s just a call. What’s the worst that could happen?”

If only you knew...

“Come on, Y/N, pick it up. If he's calling, it must be important.”

Your fingers trembled slightly until you finally decided to press the answer button.

You forced a smile, even though the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was cry and tell Sebastian the whole truth. Instead, you put the phone to your ear and answered, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“Hello, Mark…”

“Damn, it’s about time you answered. Do you mind telling me where you are? I’ve been trying to reach you for days and days, and you’ve just ignored me.”

It’s a lie, Y/N. He hasn’t called. He’s manipulating you because, once again, he’s forgotten about you...

“I’m out,” you replied, controlling everything you said while looking at Seb, who had started talking with Matthias. “I’m having dinner.”

“And who exactly are you with?” Mark asked disparagingly, totally suspicious of you.

You gripped the phone tightly and opened your mouth to respond with the first excuse that came to your mind. But before you could, Matthias started talking too loudly with your companion:

“You’re such a gentleman with our Y/N, Sebastian! Are you sure you’re just friends?”

“Just friends, Matthias, really,” Seb replied cheerfully, although alert to you, who seemed terrified.

“Sebastian? What exact Sebastian, Y/N?”

Your blood ran cold when you heard the aggressive tone Mark was using on the other end of the phone.

“Mark, it’s not what you think…”

“Who the fuck are you with, Y/N?” Mark exploded. Even Sebastian and Matthias, who were still talking, seemed to hear the yelling coming from the phone. “Are you with Sebastian Vettel? Is it the Sebastian Vettel I’m imagining?”

“Mark, please, let me explain…”

“Explain what?” the Australian's voice started getting louder and angrier. “That you went out to dinner with him as if that was the most normal thing in the world?”

Seb, noticing the sudden change in you, both in your mood and body language, became alert. He turned his attention back to the waiter, this time giving an excuse after he placed all the plates on their table so that he could leave and give you some privacy.

Your tense posture and the fact that you became so silent, just listening to what his teammate was saying on the other side of the line, didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he knew there was more between them than what his friend wanted him to know.

“Take good care of her, Sebastian. Y/N deserves the best.”

Seb smiled kindly at Matthias’s words, and his eyes followed him until he was far enough away. His eyes then returned to you.

Something wasn’t right, and it was creating a feeling of internal rage in Seb that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Mark, I’ll call you when I get home, okay? I don’t want…”

“So you’re with him, right?” the Australian spat, not letting her finish. “Sebastian Vettel... Out of all the damn people you could be with, you’re with him…”

“Mark, please… Let me explain…” You started, your words already bordering on pleading.

“Think about the kind of girlfriend you are, Y/N,” his voice, though calm now, you knew he was about to start throwing poisoned darts that would torment you in the weeks to come. “While I’m busting my ass working, training, doing everything I can to move the damn team forward, you’re out there with the guy you claim is your best friend, going on dates. How would you feel if it were the other way around, Y/N?”

“It’s not what you think,” you whispered, unable to control the tremor in your voice.

“Oh really? Then what is it? Because to me, it looks like you're acting with another man the way you should be acting with your boyfriend. How do you think that makes me feel, huh?”

Don’t believe his words, Y/N... He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your fault just because he’s ignored you for almost a month...

“Mark, he’s my best friend, and you’ve known that since before we started dating. I haven’t hidden it from you, just like I’m not hiding anything from you now.”

Sebastian, paying close attention to every word from you, felt his heart drop at what you had said, especially the tone you used.

You mattered to Sebastian, just as he mattered to you.

“I wouldn’t take a girl to the city I grew up in if she was just my best friend, leaving my girlfriend feeling like second best, but hey, to each their own…”

You sighed, unable to stop looking at Seb, hurt by the words Mark had just said, even though you convinced yourself, despite knowing you were lying to yourself, that the Australian cared about you enough to consider you a girlfriend.

Oh my God, Y/N, you haven’t even met his parents yet…

“You’re being unfair,” was all you could say.

“No, if anyone’s being unfair here, it’s you, Y/N,” replied Mark. “You’re selfish, and you think of no one but yourself.”

“I don’t want to keep talking about this, Mark…”

“Of course you don’t. Because you don’t want Seb to know what you’re really like,” Webber said harshly. “Maybe I should tell him myself. Do you think he’d believe me? Would he still want a bitch like you if he knew the real you?”

Your stomach dropped at what Mark had just said. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t know how to contradict him because you knew it was impossible to make him think otherwise.

The worst part? Sebastian’s face went completely pale, which made you worry even more about what your friend might now think of you.

Without saying anything else, and while you still faintly heard the Australian’s reproaches, you ended the call, throwing the phone harshly on the table and unable to control your hands, which were shaking more and more.

“Y/N…” Seb spoke, unsure of how to approach the conversation he wanted to have with you about what had just happened.

“It’s... It doesn’t matter,” you corrected yourself. The last thing you wanted was for that heated conversation you had had with Mark to ruin your time with Seb, especially your stay with the German. “Let’s eat and let everything else rest, okay? I’ve been planning this for weeks, and I don’t want to ruin it because of a conversation that never should have happened.”

Seb didn’t seem entirely convinced by your words, and even less by your attitude. He knew you were broken inside at that moment, and nothing hurt him more than knowing he didn’t know how to help you.

“Y/N, if something’s wrong... you can tell me. You know that, right?”

You tried to force a smile again, but it was impossible. Instead, tears began to fall from your eyes, and no matter how hard you tried to control them, you couldn’t.

“It’s okay, Seb, it’s nothing. I swear.”

Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t lie to him.

“Really, Y/N... No matter what you need or when you need it, I’ll be here... You’re not alone, Y/N, okay? Come what may.”

You looked at your hands, now in Seb’s. His thumb was calmly rubbing over them, something Seb knew perfectly well relaxed you when you had anxiety, like now, when you felt on the edge of a panic attack; or at least, that’s what the constant feeling of suffocation you couldn’t shake off told you, no matter how hard you tried to control your breathing and especially promise yourself that everything would be fine.

Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N, Mark’s voice echoed in your head in such a scene, making you pull your hands from the table and hide them beneath it, embarrassed.

Sebastian sighed, knowing he wouldn’t stop trying to help you, no matter how reluctant you were. If you wanted to end the contact, so be it, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make sure you were okay.

“I mean it, Y/N,” the guy insisted. “Whatever it is you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone. You’re my best friend, and best friends are there to support each other. Just like you’re doing now, with me, with Hanna,” he added.

You looked up at him again, and your chest tightened. How could he be so noble with you? How was he able to say the words you needed to hear at every moment? With Mark, you felt small, as if you didn’t matter at all, but Seb... he made you feel like a princess straight out of a fairy tale, whose ending was still to be written.

“Thank you, Seb,” you murmured, unable to take your eyes off those blue eyes that so relaxed you. “For… everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. That’s what friends are for.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that, unlike your boyfriend, if you even were, or ever had been, someone could care about you. You didn’t want to give your best friend false hopes, but the way he treated you, how it seemed like he cared...

Why did Seb make you feel like the most special person in the world when the person who was supposed to care about you the most didn’t even bother to try?

Sebastian Vettel knew you like the back of his hand, and that was exactly what scared you the most.

[azurdlywisterious]

The amount of songs that have dead money vibes to me that are emo rock songs i listened to in high school is a staggering amount

[jackleopard]

I went to a school to test some kids today for my thesis and the teacher who received me and talked to me while we waited for the headmaster was the nicest person 💕💕💕

[7s3ven]

FILE LOADING. TF 141 x hacker! Reader, pt 1

( full master list) (intro to this series)

IN WHICH… you needed a way to lessen your prison sentence and TF 141 needed an efficient hacker… as well as someone to spoil.

Notes: hacker! Reader, reader has a criminal background, reader has piercings, tattoos + tooth gems

A/N: first cod series finally lol… please like this post guys, I finished it right after I slipped while practising a taekwondo kick and body slammed into the tiled floor 😭.

—

The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.

The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.

In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.

But as always, life in jail still sucked.

You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.

“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.

Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.

The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.

“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.

“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.

Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”

She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.

“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.

“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.

“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”

Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”

“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.

“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”

“And the catch of this job?”

Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”

You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?

“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”

Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.

“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”

Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.

The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.

“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.

“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”

Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.

“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”

Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”

—

The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.

A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.

“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.

“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.

You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.

“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”

You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.

The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”

You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”

Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”

“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.

The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.

“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.

“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”

“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.

The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.

“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.

“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.

“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”

“Thought you said I got no money.”

“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.

“And I walk free.”

Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”

You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.

“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.

“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”

“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.

“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.

“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”

Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.

Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.

You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.

“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.

“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.

“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.

You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.

“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.

He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.” He corrects you.

You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.

“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.

“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”

You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”

“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”

You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.

The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.

The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.

It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.

“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.

You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.

The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.

Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.

“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.

She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.

“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.

Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.

“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.

“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.

“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.

Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.

“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.

You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”

COD TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @jenepleurepasbaby @rm25711 @talia-the-gemini @margaaaa30 @mixplara @alex—awesome—22

@lunamoonbby @little-b33 @ghostswife-8 @tea-drinking-nerd @certainlygay @lucienofthelakes @supaturtl3 @pr3ttypupp4 @royalz658 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ashy-akuma @1bucky-barnes-wife1 @chloepluto1306 @voguiing @eyeless-kun @joshwashingtonmybeloved @fuzzyducky3 @childishname @angel-bugz @kee-0-kee @undercover-smutlover @10honeybee01 @kat247 @munson24 @sweetlittleblackrose @babybimbo777 @wfinniegenx @galactict3a @hyperfixatedcatlover @creepumiku @yoontoons @moraxnomora @1ckyfairy @lunerbitch @tizylish

[luvly-writer]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me

Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Author's note: So originally, this was supposed to be only ONE shot...but I suck at making those so it will be a TWO shot. I am writing the second one right now as well so it will be posted at the same time.

Warnings: Neglectful family, long chapter

Part 2 // Part 3

---

These walls suffocated you. They truly did.

At first, when your mother had announced that Damian, your twin brother, and you would be leaving your home to live with your father, you were kind of excited. As much as Nanda Parbat was a home to you, you were excited to see the world, and finally feel free. Being the "spare twin" certainly allowed you to have more freedom than Damian growing up. Both of you were trained exactly the same way, yet, whilst your grandfather prefer to hone your brother's skill in other areas, you had the flexibility of running around and doing as you went. But no bird is truly free if they still live in a cage. So...

You were excited and that excitement lasted precisely two weeks. Damian and you had been close all your life, being twins kind of facilitated that. You trained together, ate together, read together, you spent the majority of your life together. You had each other's back; he was your solace and companion, your best friend. No one else in the world would ever get you like him. That's part of the reason Talia sent both of you. Growing up, no one could ever separate the two of you, not even your grandfather....well, that was until a certain Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne entered your lives.

Unlike your twin, you had no interest in being part of the vigilante business. It was well known that both of you were different in your character. Where Damian was brash, you were softer; he was ruthless, you were diplomatic; he was violent and cunning, you were elegant and merciful. That distinction was what made your grandfather direct Damian to be the heir of the Demon head. You were glad that you were away from the League as it would help you create an identity that didn't directly come from them and that became a problem.

Sure, it was two that came to stay at Wayne Manor, but only one was integrated into the family. It was disappointing, to say the least. Bruce favored Damian and whenever you tried to call him out on it, he'd blame it on the fact that Damian needed more help. As if it wasn't the two of you that came from the same place. Sure, you were tame and gentle, but you were just as Damian. The League didn't train an assassin and a princess. No, they had honed two weapons. Dick followed Bruce in that same thought process and it got even worst once he had to fill in as Batman temporarily. As much as he clashed heads with Damian, Tim enjoyed going par to par with his new brother. Jason knew both of them back when he was resurrected. You loved him as if he were your brother as well and you thought that it was reciprocated...until you roamed the halls of the manor and realized he never joked around with you the same way he did with Damian. You wanted to blame it on the fact that they were boys and maybe that got them to get along better...but it wasn't just that was it...Cassandra loved to bond with Damian because they were both child assassins but so! were! You! Stephanie loved to ruffle his hair and call him Little Bat, and Barbara would sit and try to explain modern terminology with him and laugh when he found it absurd. It didn't make sense.

Both of you went through the same thing, yet you had to understand why he needed more help and attention and love than you. It devastated you. You had read online that it was good to find healthy outlets to let out your frustrations, so you decided to find extracurriculars. Maybe if you required attention, it would be given to you, right? I mean, Robin was Damian's extracurricular in a way, right?

You took up ice skating. You found beauty in the sport and given that you had training, you were excelling at it. Given that your father was a busy man, he was never one to take you to practice. He just paid for the coach, the team, the skates, the outfits, and all the fees necessary. Alfred, may he be blessed, was your solace and would often be found taking you to practices and would stay for support. You had great potential for someone of such a young age and your coaches would never fail to remind you. Your first competition came and you were through the roof with excitement. You would talk Damian's ear off, who always made time for you regardless of what was happening around the house. You would mention it in passing to anyone who would engage in even the smallest of conversations with you. You went as far as printing the competition flyers and sticking them on Bruce's desk, the Batcomputer, and the fridge. Surely, no one would forget.

Oh, you poor thing...no one came besides Alfred. Damian and Bruce had some sort of mission; Dick was in Bludhaven; Jason was too busy with the Outlaws, Tim had a Wayne Enterprise meeting, Barbara had made plans that day with Stephanie and Cass and they couldn't be changed. Had they not heard you? Did they not see the flyers? The only one had the decency to apologize was Damian, but he was your brother, your twin, of course, he didn't mean to miss it. You had won gold and your teammates had invited you to eat out. When you ran all the way to where your family was supposed to be, you only saw Alfred with a beautiful flower bouquet.

Having seen your disappointed face, he quickly made a mental note to scold everyone later tonight and tried to cheer you up.

"Marvelous, miss Y/n! Simply wonderful. I don't think I had ever been delighted by such a choreography before" He praised and you took it to heart, giving him a smile. That night he allowed you to stay later, having one of your teammate's mother bring you back from the restaurant.

This didn't change over time. Competitions and practices with Alfred only. After that first competition, Damian would try to at least go to your practices but that lessened as time passed and he was needed as Robin. Forgotten competitions turned to forgotten birthdays it seemed. After a year, when your birthday came around, you were ecstatic knowing that your favorite day of the year and you would celebrate it with your favorite person in the whole world. That day, your friend's parents had asked Alfred if they could surprise you in the morning with something special and then leave you in the Manor during the afternoon so that you would have time with your family. Seeing how loved you were outside of your family, Alfred agreed.

You were positive that your day was going to be perfect. Damian had woken you up and you both exchanged gifts first thing in the morning, just like you did in the League. He had gotten you a new pair of skates and you had gotten him a bunch of new art supplies. You ate breakfast with Damian and forced Alfred to sit with you both and eat as well. You went along with your day, having Alfred tell you that you had a special surprise. He had taken you to the park where your friends and their parents awaited you with a surprise picnic. Soon the afternoon neared and you were in the limo telling Alfred about the wonderful morning you were having. To into in your story, you failed to see his worried and pitiful gaze. As you went into the Manor, hands full of gifts from your friends and cheeks hurting from laughing and smiling so much, you were met with a sight that broke your heart.

Damian blowing the candles of a cake with your entire family surrounding him, clapping and singing. Your face, just like your heart, fell. You look up at Alfred and whisper, "Did you know?"

To which he responded in a soft voice, "No, my dear, I was helping your friends plan your party. The bake, I did do, but I thought we would wait for you..."

With eyes glazed with unshed tears, you nodded and it took seeing Damian's small smile as Dick bearhugged him to know...you weren't part of them.

You had begun to separate yourself from them and Damian had noticed. He had tried to apologize for your birthdays but you wouldn't listen. What kind of person would forget their twin? After some time, he stopped trying. The ridge between you had started to grow and if you were being stubborn, he wouldn't waste his time.

---

Weeks passed. Months passed. And little old Y/n had been forgotten. Dick was always too busy and only knew how to say "Not now, kid." Jason would wave to you on occasion. You weren't sure if Tim was even aware that you still lived there. Cass only spared you a glance. Stephanie looked pained if you ever tried to talk to her. Barbara was too awkward around you. Bruce had never really tried much with you and that was clear from the start. Damian felt distant each day more and more. Your only solace was ice skating, Alfred, and your mom. Weeks after your birthday, you had sneaked out and contacted your mother. She arrived as soon as she could. She would never deny her baby girl. I mean, the world always wanted Damian, but she, she was hers. There, Y/n told her everything as she broke down into tears. She had been the perfect daughter and sister, yet it would never matter cause they didn't care. Talia, clearly bothered by this, promised to talk with Bruce and Damian yet Y/n reassured her that Alfred had tried so many times and it had never worked. With the promise of finding a solution that didn't involve Bruce or Damian, her mother left.

After a few weeks, Y/n would notice that the watching eyes of her mother would be on her during practice and competitions. It was good to have one parent there. She wouldn't be able to attend most of the time, but she made an effort. Alfred caught her once when she was giving you flowers and Y/n begged for him to keep it a secret.

It was good to have something.

---

Years passed. Birthdays were spent having breakfast with Alfred, avoiding her twin, out with her friends, and occasionally, sneaking out to see her mother. Y/n wasn't heartless, though. Every year she would sneak a present that normally came from her and their mother into Damian's room. He was still her beloved twin after all. She had gotten used to competitions with little company. Even when she had won an award for being a prodigious skater, it was Alfred, the flowers he had bought her, and the ones her mother had sneaked into her house. She was fine, she claimed. Being ignored and forgotten didn't sting her heart as much as it did before, and she definitely didn't cry every time one of her siblings passed by her and acted as if they bumped into a piece of furniture. Hearing Damian refer to Cassandra as sister and only call her by her name didn't shatter her heart, no it only made her so unfocused in practice that she fell in the middle of her choreography. Coming back home after a day with her friends and seeing all of the decorations for Damian's birthday didn't slowly kill her on the inside anymore, no she just played music super loud when she took showers so no one would hear her sobs.

The breaking point? Duke Thomas.

She didn't have something against him directly, no. It was his arrival. Seeing her supposed family, her twin, welcome him with open arms broke her absolutely. Seeing them dine with him, joke around with him, smile with him, celebrate with him, and love him shattered her. It had been five years of this torment and she couldn't bear it anymore. So...she made a call.

"Mother....I think I want to go home.."

----------------

[ctrlhope]

The Pitfalls of Silk (m)

synopsis: The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same. -> apart of the rest, relax, reserve series

p.jimin x f.reader

⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k

⋆𐙚┊: genre: hybrid au, soft yandere, soulmate au, romance, fluff, smut, v light angst

⋆𐙚┊: content: spider hybrid!jimin (cobalt blue tarantula), human!reader, soft yandere jimin, dom!jimin, power imbalances, blood, blood kink, injury, mates / mating, stupid misunderstandings, reader is rlly bad at feelings, heat/rut cycles, jealousy, biting/marking, jimin has fangs, brat taming, light subspace, bondage, fingering, breeding / breeding kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of venom, honestly rlly soft- jimin is just a little off his rocker, so many mentions of the word silk, jimin is soft for reader but also a little perverted freak <\3

⋆𐙚┊: notes: AHHH it’s finally here!!! I’ve had such a bad crush on spider jimin for such a long time. Creating his character over the years in my head— how exactly this type of hybrid would function was so fun for me. This fic (& the others that follow) has been spurred on by my special interest in arthropods so I hope you end up loving this jimin as much as I do <33 mwah I kiss u guys

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The weather has grown cold, too harsh for anyone to live outside— survive. Burly temperatures tumbling through the air in icicles, the entire world painted in white.

While the city was still busy, your quaint neighbourhood had gone completely quiet. Everyone huddled inside, trying to keep warm while they sipped on cocoa. The worst blizzard in generations deciding to tumble through on the exact weekend you were meant to go out of town. Meant to be enjoying a tropical beach with the best of your friends!

But nooo, all of the planes had to stay grounded and you had to be stuck in your house with nothing but chilly embers decorating your fireplace.

You were pissed about it all, to say the least. Annoyed that your vacation had to be cancelled, annoyed at the fact you couldn’t stay warm in the slightest, annoyed that you had to be shovelling snow out of your driveway right now.

Well, attempting to shovel snow would be a better way to put it. In theory it seemed like the right thing to do– try and get your car out just in case, start to clear a path for when you’d finally be able to greet the outside world, triumph over whatever winter gods are trying to keep you locked in your home.

In reality, you could hardly move– three layers of pants, two coats keeping all of your joints locked down. God, and the snow. It was coming down way too hard, piling up faster than you could brush it away. Hurting your cheeks with the freezing temperatures, making your bones throb with want to go back inside.

It is safe to say that you did not succeed. That was an easy enough conclusion to come to with the two halves of your snow shovel in your hands. Eyes staring blankly at the object with utter… you don’t even know the word.

Cheeks flushed red with cold, head lifting to the sky as you blink. What the fuck! How shitty can your shovel be! What the fuck is wrong with the snow!

Okay, maybe you did buy it at the dollar store. But that isn’t the point! Where has quality gone in our nation! Caring about the consumer! Yeah, that was never there to begin with! But still! You like to think that there's a point in that somewhere!

The snow falling on your skin feels like the sky is laughing at you, mocking you. It probably is. Cancelling your trip, forcing you to stay at home into the lonely confines of your small neighbourhood.

Yeah, the world is out to get you, you’ve decided it.

A grumble leaves your throat in annoyance, quiet cusses leaving your lips as your legs try to waddle themselves inside. Layers of clothing restricting every movement you make, joints feeling stiff and bones feeling cold. You are no more than a penguin, are you?

“Stupid fuckin’ shovel, stupid fuckin’ snow…” You huff, slamming the thick oak door behind you. Hoping, in a way, that you could pretend none of the frost was there in the first place.

It’s not that you hate snow– of course not. You don’t like to hate much of anything. But when it’s this deep, this thick, you can’t help the sour mood you fall into. Can’t help the sickly feeling in your gut that it has somehow wronged you simply for existing.

Whatever, not that it matters much. You aren’t mother nature. You can’t change it or your now cancelled– most likely non-refundable plans.

What you can change? A nice warm pizza in your tummy.

You hum to yourself, tapping off your boots before ridding yourself of them entirely. Soon follows your jackets, puddles of water quickly forming on the floor where it falls. Snow melting much too fast now that it is in the warmth of your home.

You stare at it in spite, another way mother nature has wronged you today.

You know what? No, not your problem right now. That is a problem for you later today! The wood would be fine. And if it isn’t?

…

You groan, throwing your head back as you move to the bathroom. The battle of opposing forces inside of your head has won again– being responsible, doing the right thing.

Your hand snatches a towel, “Stupid shovel… stupid snow…” You huff, kneeling on the ground to wipe away the liquid that pooled.

You hang the towel back in the bathroom for it to dry before finally making your way to the kitchen. To finally make the frozen pizza you want– no deserve! Yeah, you’ve had a hard day today, being an adult is too hard sometimes. You deserve a little treat don't you?

Feet scuffling against the floor, fluffy socks dragging along the surface allowing you to quickly slip against the tiled floor. Your hips sway, a quiet hum leaving your lips as your hands move diligently, efficiently. Placing the pizza in the oven, setting the timer, flipping the switch on on the kettle.

Everything happens with practised ease. With movements that leave no room for error. Careful, efficient, the way your parents always taught you. The right way.

If you do everything correctly, things will never go wrong. You’ll never have to worry. When everything is in your control, everything is perfect and content.

It’s too bad the right way never accounts for things out of your control. When the world causes you to tense and get annoyed– when it doesn’t behave the way it's supposed to, like you want it to. Just like stupid shovels and a winter storm no one predicted.

But hey, at least you still have power. Your backup generator is there if you need it. Can still watch your dramas and eat warm food. Keep yourself sane while the insane persits just outside of your door.

Lonely, lonely, lonely winter storm~ whatever shall you do~

Your head begins to sing to itself while you wait. Maybe you already were going insa–

Bang.

What the fuck was that?

Your eyes instantly dart to the basement door wide with fear– the source of the sound.

A crash, a quiet cry, a scurry all sound in quick succession. Too loud to miss. Too loud to ignore. Too distinct to place on anything else.

You know winter noises. The crash of shutters against the window, the influx of snow on glass. The beating of hail against the roof or the creaking of pipes chilled from the cold. The noises you just heard? None of the above. They couldn’t possibly be. They weren’t. They were too… too…

Human.

Shit, shit. Is someone in your basement?! Oh god, oh fuck.

The room, it freezes over.

Your pulse starts to race– hairs raise, stand on end. Breath filtering through your nose as you start to panic. Fingers grip the countertop as you try to ground yourself. Try to figure out a way to escape this.

If horror movies have taught you anything– it’s how to run. Grab everything you can, high tail it out before you become victim to the unknown lurking just below the surface of your floorboards. Before you can be possessed or worse, chased down by some mass murdering clown.

That would be the smart thing to do– the wise thing. To get out of your house as quickly as possible, call the police to investigate it for you before you have to become the ‘final girl’ of a movie franchise of your own.

But the storm, the storm would never allow for the right thing.

The police would never make it in time, the roads far too hazardous to truly reach you. If they did, you would already have frostbite from the cold outside by the time they made it. You might be worse off than before–

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The reasoning formulated in your head as you grab a broom from the closet, slowly make your way to the basement door. Completely ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut, the one that tells you that you actually want to travel down the stairs. A string tugging you along a path predetermined, forcing you to forego anything you had thought before.

No, your line of reasoning had to be the object pulling you down those stairs, creaking with every slow, nagging step that you take. It could never be curiosity, a want to understand the unknown guide leading you astray from the dirt road you’ve taken time and time again.

The right road that would lead to the right solution is all but forgotten in this moment. Only adrenaline spurring you on, fingers clenching and unclenching around the broom handle in your grip. Fingers tied so tight around the metal that your knuckles may as well be white.

You're terrified– scared out of your mind. The only noise passing through the drums of your ears is your own pulse, the accelerated beat of your heart as you try to clear the fog that dances over your brain. Fear must be clouding your judgement, making you follow it blindly into the light; well, dark.

Your breath leaps from your chest in short pants, eyes haphazardly harding around your form as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Something is keeping your legs moving when all your brain wants to do is turn back and run. Call the authorities like you should be doing instead of risking everything to satiate the incessant need pulling at the back of your skull. Acting on instincts alone, allowing the string of fate to tug you around the corner. The urge to investigate is stronger than anything you had ever felt before. Anything you’ve ever wanted to feel before.

He sees you before you see him.

“P-please..” The quiet, almost non-existent voice sends a chill down your spine. One you were not expecting in the slightest.

Terrified, panicked. Shaking like a leaf, eyes welled with tears. It’s almost like he knew you were coming down all along, just… didn’t know what to do about it. Too scared to move, too scared to hide. Too scared to do anything but sit there and wait.

Just as petrified as you.

Nothing about the scene before you is making much sense at all. Not to you, at least. Why is he so scared? Why is he in your home? Why isn’t he doing anything but sitting there with pleading, helpless eyes? You try to take everything in, try to fit the pieces of the picture together.

Basement window opened slightly, just enough to allow the man— was he a man? To climb inside. Pretty blonde hair completely dishevelled on his head, grime coating what you know would be such pretty locks. Eyes with double pupils brimmed with tears threatening to spill at any second. Pink plush lips quivering with worry, fangs biting into them so hard you fear they may bleed. No, they are bleeding.

He is definitely not a man. Nor is he a beast. An intoxicating swirl of the two combined into a species of hybrid you’ve never seen before.

The first thought in your head is one it shouldn’t be. One that makes your heart stop for entirely different reasons than before. Makes you drop the broom in your hands, allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Defences dropped completely in the face of the stranger before you.

He only flinches at the noise, blood covered hands reaching in panic to cover his all too sensitive ears.

Any worries have left you– something seeded deep within your soul tells you he isn’t a threat in the slightest. Not to you, at least. Never to you. Maybe it is the same string as before pulling you along. Pulling you to what destiny has provided.

He is absolutely gorgeous. Even with the grime and his pale complexion from the cold you can tell that easily. He might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you find lost in yourself what to do about it.

What is anyone meant to do when a drop dead gorgeous hybrid enters their home in the middle of a blizzard? Just as scared as you were moments before? Looking like he might freeze to death if you don’t–

Holy shit he must be frozen solid.

It’s only then that you come to your senses, your eyes racking over him once more as you take in all of him for more than just the beauty he brings.

His clothes are thin– far too thin for this weather at least. Tattered on the edges, few stains spotting the fabric, though its clear effort was spent trying to get them out. Your mind wants to wonder why he would worry about that, worry about making himself appear presentable, but raking your vision down you know there is no time for it. Not with the blood on his palms or the red of his flesh.

Your body moves quicker than your brain can think, crouching down in front of him. Noticing the way he flinches once more, the fear in his eyes more palpable, hurting worse than a gunshot wound.

The constriction of your chest is dumb, or at least it should be. Feels almost benign, unfounded. You just met him, you're scaring him, but for an unexplainable reason you wish you could take all of his worry away just for that moment. Make him feel a little better, a little warm. A little safe.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Your voice mumbles, trying to soothe him or yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

“I-I’m sorry… pl-please don’t.. It’s just so cold… Please…” He begs, though neither of you are sure what for. Not to hurt him, not to send him back outside. All you know is the tears that now flow from his eyes, cresting along his cheeks, dripping to the floor.

“Not going anywhere…” You hope your voice sounds stronger than you feel, hope he can’t hear the way the strings of your heart break, hope he hears how much you care in your tone all along, “Trust me a little okay…?”

You know your words mean nothing, that it might have been an impossible task for him to do so. But you had to try. Had to hope.

It should be hard for you to trust him too, it should be hard to rectify your fear in the face of the one who had caused it. It isn’t the right thing– none of this is the right thing, but it all just comes too easily. Compassion, caring takes over the anxiety too easily. Too brilliantly to do anything else other than care for this hybrid that has wound up at your door.

He was just a scared hybrid doing whatever he needed to to survive. Terrified out of his mind that he would freeze or starve out there– probably had no burrow or… you’re not sure, honestly, what his home might be like. But no home nevertheless. You could never just send another person out there to die.

He stiffens as you reach out for him, gently take his hands in your own. They feel like ice, frozen solid. You don't want to acknowledge what could have happened to them if he was out there any longer.

Without thinking you raise them to your lips, blowing on them as best you can. Trying to do anything to get the blood flowing again before you take him upstairs. Warm him up properly. Make him feel like more than a snowman once again.

You don’t notice the way his form completely loses all stress as you touch him for the first time, speak to him the first time. He feels transfixed on your voice– it had to be too sweet to be real. But you were too focused on your mission. Too focused on making sure the man who has broken into your home is okay to notice the way his lips part slightly at your tone.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches, the way all of his hair stands on edge as a current runs through his body, breathing life into every pore he possesses. Nor the way his eyes widen, losing their will to cry as he stares at you.

Don’t notice the recognition on his face.

You don’t notice a lot of things he does that day. Too focused on getting him into a warm shower– one he was very confused by, you might add. Too focused on getting a warm meal in his belly. Too focused on getting him in nice, clean clothes. A set that will properly keep him warm.

You could worry about other things later. But this felt right. This felt like something you were always meant to do. Or maybe that was just the size of your heart talking– you could never be too sure. But you liked to think it was the former. Liked to hope that Jimin, who you later learned was a spider hybrid, was always meant to come tumbling through your window, into your life for good.

The days that follow are easy– falling into a rhythm with him, taking care of him is just too simple. As basic as breathing, maybe.

Though, it hasn’t exactly been hard with how much he sleeps. How deep he’s nestled in your bed, blankets piled on top of him to drown out any chills that may attempt to slip into his bones. It’s almost like hibernation– if you could describe it. Re-building his energy, making himself feel strong again before he faces the world.

You can’t blame him, honestly. Not after everything he’s been through. Only god knows how long he had been out there. How long he had to brave the snowstorm, the cold weather that previewed it as well. You would probably do the same thing. Hide yourself from everything that hurt you.

Most days you wish you could be doing the exact same thing as him. Hide under a pile of blankets and forget the rest of the world exists. But the voice of your parents would always nag you out of it, force you to be human with the rest of society because it's the right thing.

You humph, gently placing a plate of food on the bedside table. Let him occupy your room for as long as he needs, preparing meals for him even though he never touches a bit of it. It’s the least you can do with his condition.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to stop someone's pain so badly. You hope you can by just doing small things like this. You sigh, heading for the door once again. Another day on the couch.

“Human…?” His voice is quiet, almost non-existent as he calls for you. Cracking slightly, the first time he's spoken in days.

You quickly turn to face him and almost want to fall to your knees at the sight. Fluffy blonde hair peeking from just below the covers, doll eyes peering at you while the rest of him stays hidden beneath the surface. Does he know how destructive he is?

Wait, no. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He’s letting his defences down, actually talking to you. Stop it.

“Hmm?” You gently call back, glued to your spot in the doorway. You don’t know what he would do if you moved, how startled he may be because of it. You want to talk to him– to find answers.

“What time is it…?” He slowly asks, pacing his question. You notice a slight lisp behind his words– how much of an effort he puts to cover it up.

“Mmm.. about 1? I made myself some lunch so I was just stopping by.” You explain, trying to justify your presence in the room.

“Oh.” He looks beneath the blankets, eyes darting around the room, “Okay. Thank you.”

It seems neither of you are great conversationalists, awkward air passing between the space left between your bodies. You don’t blame him. You don’t know what you would be thinking, feeling if you were in the same place as him. If you didn’t really know what your fate was going to be.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, playing with your fingers to distract from the nerves that you feel. As much as you want to jump, pin him down and ask every single thing your heart begs for, you know that isn't the right thing to do. You know you should be slow, careful with this. At least, that's what the articles online have told you.

“Better…” His voice comes out smoother this time, finally coming out of sleep as he sits up in the bed. Gently taking the plate into his lap, scrunching his nose. “It’s not cold in here like out there.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself. He seems so relaxed, so at ease. Not scared in the slightest of you or what you may do. You forget all about the fact that you should probably be scared of him too.

“Not really,” You smile gently, eyes glancing at the window as he starts to eat, “I was really worried about you, scared me bad.”

You don’t see the flush that covers his cheeks.

“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to… your window was the first one I could get through and I knew I couldn’t take the storm anymore so I–”

“Hey, It’s fine.” You turn your attention back to him, “I’m just glad you’re okay, yeah? It must’ve been terrifying out there.”

“It was.” He doesn’t hesitate in answering in the slightest, eyes serious as they focus on you. They’re beautiful, really. His eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, “Not your fault human, I left the reserve. My fault.” He tells you in earnest, wanting you to believe it with every piece of your soul that you could never do anything to hurt him, “Come sit?”

The question is quiet, but you oblige nonetheless. Legs moving you slowly, perching at the end of the bed to face him. Kicking your legs slightly as you stare at the pattern of your sweats.

“The reserve?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. His face is suddenly smiling, nodding at your question. He must like the place a lot, see it as home for him to become so excited.

“Yeah! Where I live,” He explains, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he speaks, “They say humans can't hurt you there, you get to hunt like in the wild too.”

He hums, content in talking about the one place he has ever found comfort in, found friends in. You can’t help but smile as he speaks, too.

“Yeah? It sounds really nice.” He’s nodding his head once again, as quickly as he can.

“There are lots of other arthropods to play with there. Lot’s of food. Sometimes the humans that visit will give you some too, but they’re normally scared of me.” He suddenly looks serious, eyes coming to meet yours once again, “You’re not scared of me, right?”

You jerk your head back, brows furrowing together in confusion. How could someone be scared of someone like Jimin? You’ve only known him for a matter of days and you doubt that you could ever be.

“Of course not.” You tell him, gently reaching a hand over to place on his knee. He doesn’t flinch away like you expect him to. “You just needed some help, we all need help sometimes.”

He smiles, the serious demeanour retracting from his face in an instant. Back to smiling down at his food happily. The silence doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, at least you don't think it does. It makes you happy, stretching on as he continues to eat like a man starved. He probably is, days of not eating and only sleeping.

“Why did you leave it?” You tilt your head, staring out the window once more. Few snowflakes trickle against the blue sky, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I figure if we’re going to be together through the storm–”

“You’re not gonna kick me out?” His face is awestruck, fork dropping to the plate in surprise. What is he talking about? Kick him out? In this weather?

You quickly shake your head, hand slowly pulling itself back from your knee. He whines in protest, quickly trying to force himself back under your heat. The touch of your hand warmed him up more than anything else in this room– more than the blankets, more than the heater or the warm towels.

His hand tangles itself with your own, pulls you back to his covered knee. Keeps your hand in place with his own while he uses the other to eat. Good. This is better. He likes it when you touch him. The way your small hand feels wrapped in his own.

Makes the tips of his fingers tingle, warmth spread throughout his skin. This is right. This is good.

“Why would I kick you out?” You ask in disbelief, either unnoticing or uncaring to the way he holds your hand– he’s unsure. Not that it matters much! “It’s too cold for anyone out there. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He smiles, the pit of his stomach only warming more at your words, “Good.”

“We have to wait for the snow to melt to drive you ba–” He cuts you off once again, not wanting to think about going back. At least not without you.

“My friend Taehyung leaves a lot,” He begins to explain, fingers squeezing your own as his palm lays heavy against the back of your hand, “He always talks about how fun it is. All the cool things he gets to see, you know?”

He places his plate to the side while he talks, licking one of his fangs gently. You don’t want to think about how handsome he looks while he does such an action.

“So I wanted to try it out, but we’re not really supposed to leave, you know? ‘Cause then we’re not protected.” You nod along, “And I don’t really have wings to fly out so… I had to wait until they weren’t really paying attention.”

“And that just happened to line up right before the snowstorm was supposed to hit.” You finish for him and he nods, looking down at his lap, “That has gotta be such shitty luck, Jimin. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, you just wanted to go out and experience new things and you almost ended up dead.” You frown at him, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of what may have happened. He simply shakes his head, plush lips tilted into a small smile just for you.

“I said it’s okay.” He tries to make you believe it, leaning closer. Feeling nothing like the stranger he was only days before. “I got to meet you, so it was all worth it.”

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Jimin has a mate that he’s going to be with someday. Someone he’s going to fall in love with. Someone he’s meant to be with, be happy with for the rest of his life. Someone that isn’t you. You really need to accept that and move on from this stupid fucking crush you’ve developed. One that will amount to nothing but heartbreak.

All hybrids have them– Jimin is not excluded from that. You know it’s true. Know it’s so true that you can hardly breathe but he just makes it so easy, too fucking easy to fall for him.

He takes care of the house, cleans it for you whenever there is a mess. Does the dishes after dinner. Takes out the trash. Tells the spiders in the yard not to mess with you– okay, you’re not entirely sure he does that last one. But he is adamant he can speak to them, and who are you to rain on his little spidey parade.

As the seasons change and the months pass, he only makes it easier and easier. Fitting into your life like he was the only piece missing. Filling in all of the bits and pieces you never knew you needed, wrapping silk around your heart and pulling it tight before you could ever think about letting him go.

Even as the months heat and his deep blue roots grow out from his bleached hair, he has no desire to the place he once called home. The reserve quickly pushed aside every time you try to bring it up. Saying he likes it better here, that this is now his home.

To be honest, nothing makes you more happy. Nothing in the world could possibly make you feel better than Jimin. His little webs he places in the corners, the soft way he clings to you when he becomes needy, the way he likes to show you any bugs he catches before he eats them. You’re not sure you could continue in your life without it.

Yet still, still. You’re not sure if this is right. The right thing, the right way to go about it all.

You often fear that you’re keeping him from what he really wants, if he actually wants to go back but feels indebted to you in some way. If that’s the only reason he actually sticks around.

You worry you’re being selfish in that regard. And then once again you find yourself spiralling into the void of questions you could never have answered. Feelings that will always be unaccounted for because Jimin has a mate.

Or at least, will have one. Someday. And you’re not sure if you could handle that day coming. Not in the warm heat of spring, flowers blooming alongside feelings for an arachnid that has entered your life.

One that has no intention of leaving your side anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it.

But nothing, nothing in the world could prepare you for this. What could prepare the thrum of your heart or the butterflies in your tummy? You never expected him to hold you this close, keep your body pressed against his own in the small space of the coat closet. Keep his face tucked away in your neck, whining in pain at something you could never think to discern.

So quickly you were pulled away, without a second to waste you were dragged onto his lap. One second kicking off your shoes, covered in mud from gardening, the next a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the dark confines. Only Jimin there to cover up your scream, lips delicately pressed to your ear uttering a quiet please. Voiced laced with a whine so pained you couldn’t help but join him without a second to spare.

A thought to think– a debate on whether this is right to do or not, for yourself and your own heart.

“Min? Min, what’s wrong?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask, pulling him away from your neck, making his head face your own. Hands gently cupping either cheek as your eyes attempt to make out the features of his face.

It’s too dark, you can’t see anything. The only answer he gives is in the form of a pained groan, not even his eyes reaching you through the darkness. You start to panic, feel the nerves along your spine light up in trepidation.

He’s hurt. He has to be. What happened? Is he okay? He’s never acted like this before. Not with you. Never before has he seemed so hurt, so dishevelled save for the night you first met him.

Just before this the two of you were gardening, mid-morning sun shining bright overhead. A light breeze passing through the trees keeping the two of you cool. That was it! He only went inside a few minutes before you, a few minutes alone and he was already hurt this bad.

Oh god, you never want him to hurt. To be in pain. It hurts your heart just as bad as it hurts him, if not worse.

You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.

“Min, let me just turn on the lights okay? Let me see what’s wrong.” You try to coax him, try to kneel from his lap to reach the string above you. Panic flooding through you as he keeps you snug, keeps you from helping him.

You stop your struggle, veins running cold as he lets out a sharp, violent hiss. A sound he’s never made before, never dare uttered towards you– around you in general. It leaves you nervous, scared for entirely different reasons than before.

But one thing is clear from the way his fingers dig into the skin of your wrist almost painfully. The same wrist that was reaching for the string. He doesn’t want you to turn on the light.

“Okay…okay I won’t…” You tell the arachnid, slowly lowering yourself back onto his lap. Letting go of the struggle, letting go of the resistance. It isn’t what he needs right now, isn’t what he wants.

His grip loosens, arms returning to their place around your waist. Holding you close. Keeping you in his arms. His face nuzzles back into your neck, inhaling deeply with every breath he takes. Smelling you. Imprinting the memory of it in his brain.

“What if I use my flashlight…? Would that be okay?” Once again, the response is a much short, quieter hiss. A lot less defensive, angry than the first. Just a sign of dismissal.

“Okay…” You say quietly, bringing one arm behind him to gently run through his hair. Scratching his scalp in a way that always has him preening, “Can you please tell me what's wrong? So I can help…? Please…”

Your voice is quiet, almost a beg as you ask him. He squeezes your body tighter in response. Would’ve basked in the tone you gave him if not for the pounding behind his eyelids. Still, he knows if he’s going to get you to stay, he has to talk. No matter how much it hurts.

A whine leaves his lips, nose running along the column of your neck as he tries to scent you, “Hurts.”

He answered, his voice shaky and quiet, but it gives you nothing.

“I know Min, I know…” You hush quietly, trying to consol something that you do not have the answer to. Your other hand slowly starts to soothe up and down his back, trying to relax the poor boy enough to speak.

“The light. Hurt eyes. Head Hurts.” He gruffs out, burying his face into your skin to block out any other source that he could.

Your lips part in a soft ‘o’ as the picture becomes clear to you. Staying outside too long, helping you in the garden had come at a cost to the poor spider in the form of a splitting headache.

How could you have been so dumb to let him help you? The articles you’ve read, the pieces you’ve tried to put together to understand the man in your life– they told you as much. How delicate some species' eyes could be but… Jimin never seemed to have that issue before. Never mentioned it, anyway. He doesn’t mention a lot about himself.

You frown.

“Min, I’m so sorry…”

He only grumbles in reply, blunt nails digging into the back of your shirt to keep himself grounded. To keep his head from pounding any louder.

“Let me– Let me go get you some Ibuprofen, yeah?” You hope the sound of your voice isn’t making everything worse. If it does, he doesn’t say anything, only shaking his head, burrowing it further under your hair.

“Just… stay.” He sighs in defeat, shoulders relaxing as he holds you close. He doesn’t need medicine. He doesn’t need anything else. He just needs you. Why can’t you understand that?

“I’ll–” You breathe, trying to force the flush of your cheeks to disappear. He can see in the dark, you know that much. You wouldn’t want him seeing this. The effect he has over you. Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is?

“I’ll stay.”You sigh in defeat, unaware to the pride that blooms in his chest at the battle won. The quiet chirp from his throat that he has you here, with him. Where you’re meant to be.

Hours pass just like that, just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. No words spoken but quiet requests to know the other is okay. That the other is safe. Even as your muscles begin to cramp, bones start to become sore you don’t dare to move. Don’t dare to do a thing when you are the only one that matters to him right now.

Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.

Especially as his migraine begins to lift, as the conversation between two souls becomes more frequent. As he moves your body to the side so your head can rest against his chest. As his fingers smoothe over the skin of your thigh, rubbing gentle, comforting circles into your flesh.

“And then Namjoon, you know how bad a flyer he is, ran straight into the director of the park. Made her spill her whole coffee all over.” He smiles to himself as he tells the story of the bee hybrid, eyes heavy as he looks down at your form. So cute and small, “and you know what he said?”

You shake your head, “what?”

“‘You need some honey?’” He recites, dipping his voice in a deeper octave to mimic what you can only assume to be Namjoon’s. His voice falling into quiet giggles, you quickly follow suit. Laughing at stories of friends, feeling at home in the dark closet.

You don’t care how long the two of you have been in there. Only that he isn’t in pain anymore.

“I’m glad you’re okay now.” You tell him, eyes feeling heavy, the soothing tremor of his voice vibrating in his chest making your head start to fog. Inklings of sleep slipping into your frame. Head lulling back against him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

He nods, his throat constricting at just how perfect you look there, fingers teetering on the brink of digging into your skin once more. “Feeling a lot better… my vision is still a little spotty but it's okay.”

You pout. He has to hold back a coo. Too cute. Do you even know how cute you are when you get like this? Probably not.

“No, it’s not okay. I should have known. Told you to go back inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

His heart pounds once, twice before he releases a shaky exhale. Do you know what you do to him when you talk like that? When you show him just how much you care?

The level of restraint he has, it has to be impressive. If he was Taehyung, he would have taken you right there. Wrapped your arms in webs so you couldn’t move. Mate you without a second thought.

Seriously, what did you think you were doing? Talking to him like that? Making him feel like he’s going insane, a few short strings from breaking free and just taking you to his nest. Keeping you there.

You can’t say things like that to him. Not with how innocent you look, with how terribly he already wants you.

A harsh breath comes out of his nose as he forces the thoughts away. He’s not Taehyung. He’s not going to take you for his own selfish desires alone. No, he’s going to keep lulling you into his web like he knows you want. Knows you need. Keep being a good little spider for you.

“I should have told you.” He says quietly, lips coming down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Couldn’t have known my species is sensitive like that.”

You hum in quiet annoyance, “Still… read online about some glasses that can help some insects manage light… should have bought them.”

A courting gift? No no, you don’t know what that is. No matter what his spider screams he knows that isn’t true.

He sighs, he needs a distraction. Something to calm the voice in his head screaming at him to kiss you.

Your leg kicks out gently as he starts, feeling like nothing but a feather tickling across your skin. Gentle silks laying across the surface from his wrists, spinnerets hard at work to produce the webbing he places on your thigh.

He huffs quietly, a smirk of a laugh coming out as he moves your leg back, “Tickles?” He asks, an amused lilt present in his voice. Oh god, he’s going to start teasing you again. He loves teasing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, eyes glancing down to where his fingers move expertly. Thread after thread moving through his fingers, decorating your skin as he draws pictures. Paints flowers, sunsets, anything he can think of really across the canvas of your thigh.

“Just drawing… calms me down.” Marking you, claiming you. Showing every other arthropod that this one is his, this one is Jimins’. Well, at least for the next 3 days when the stick wears off. “Do you want me to stop?”

A tingle runs through your spine as he works, eyes not able to leave his hands for even a second. Your stomach swarms with what has to be a hive of bees, your core bubbling with something you don’t want to describe or think about.

You just hope he can’t smell you. Can’t hear the race of your heart, the increase in breath. The flush on your cheeks that travels all the way to your ears.

He can.

“N-no… It’s okay. I want you to feel better so… do what you need to do.” You mumble, trying to get your feelings to calm down before you fully lose it.

You have to buy those glasses.

Being a spider is just too difficult!

At least that’s what Jimin has told you time and time again over the past 8 months you’ve spent with him. Cold, icy months blossoming into the summer heat with him by your side. With him making residence in your home, cementing his place in your life without any regards for going back to his original home.

It’s too hard for him out there anyway! People at the park think you’re scary so they won’t give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape. Something about having to “give other spiders a chance” and them “taking up too much space.”

Can you believe them?! All the time and effort he put into his pretty webs, gone in a flash! The strain the sun caused his eyes, the pounding headaches he endured stringing up pieces of silk along the trees, creating a beautiful orchestra of white to claim his territory.

Thank god he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, at least. Ever since you bought him those sunglasses, making webs outside has never been easier. Catching prey so much easier than ever before.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him eating the bugs he catches, but who are you to yuck his yum? You know all of the things he’s had to endure as a spider. Everything he’s convinced the world hates him for simply based on his breed alone. The least you can do is show kindness around his diet.

That’s how you end up rubbing his back in soothing circles time and time again, fangs piercing a stuffed animal or piece of fruit– anything he can get his hands on really, as he whines, flinches as he spits out all of his venom.

His venom is one of the worst things he’s had to deal with, you’ve learned. It builds up behind his teeth, waiting to be used on a waiting victim when there is no such thing. No exit point for the liquid to flow.

His fangs begin to ache, begging to pierce something just to release all of the pent up tension in his gums. It hurts too bad, too much to just keep it inside. So once a month, you find yourself in the same position, trying to help him relieve the aggression with soothing, gentle words as he spits the venom out in a way you can only imagine is unsatisfying. Leaving his fangs sensitive and achy for days to come.

In general, his fangs seem to be a point of special contention within the hybrid. They’re too pointy, cause too many issues. The extended canines digging into his plush lower lip just a little too hard making every movement just a little too uncomfortable. God, and he has to worry about brushing them to perfection– keep them pretty for his mate.

At least, that’s what he tells you.

The rest of the world hurts him. You don’t.

Today especially. At least that's what you can assume by the stretch of his arms, the whine bubbling from the back of his throat. His arms reaching for your form, beckoning you, calling you to join him on the couch. All worked up, acting like a wounded puppy that needs nursing just to get your attention.

It always works. Always will.

Some would say he’s become more pushy— more desperate for your attention, forcing it from your grasp without realizing it yourself. That’s what your friends have told you. How easily you fit into the palm of his hand with no more than a simple gesture coaxing you forward into his sweet embrace, never noticing the glares he sends others who enter your home.

No, you would deny all of it. Listen when he tells you that you don’t need your friends anyway. It just feels so good to be needed by him, wanted by him in a way you can never have him. In whatever way he’s willing to give.

r weakness than ever before. No matter how much you’ve tried to avoid it, how much you’ve tried to do the right thing and shove the stupid, pesky feelings down, he’s managed to twist himself into the confines of your heart. Filling a deep hole inside with his pretty silks and crooked little teeth. Takes up a lot more space then you’d ever be willing to admit. Not to him, anyway. Not when he could find his mate any day now.

You’ve been thinking about it more and more lately– the prospect of his mate. It’s difficult not to when he treats you so kindly. When he creeps in your bed at night to cold you, when he reaches out for your comfort alone. When he graces your neck with his fangs his lips–

You drop the dishes back in the sink, shoving your thoughts back into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Maybe if you can be his comfort for now, that will be enough. Even if it isn’t right.

Maybe that’s just how far you’ve fallen, how much he’s tangled you in his embrace. Not that it matters much, you smile all the same. Abandoning your task on only his third whine and fourth dramatic roll of the night. Giving in is so easy when it’s him.

But! It’s a new record for how long you’ve held out! Even got two stomps out of him. You should be proud of yourself.

Maybe you are, though it's for different reasons entirely as Jimin grabs at your wrists, pulling you down beside him. Nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a quiet, pained whine.

You like to ignore those other reasons. They’ll only hurt more if you face them head on. But it's hard to, so hard when he’s this close. When he’s holding you like you may just be the very thing from shattering his world apart.

Or maybe you’re over thinking things.

Yeah. It’s probably that.

“Y/n…” You feel his lips ghost your neck as he whines, wiggling slightly in discomfort.

His duality is always impressive, has been making your brain go a little haywire since he first moved in, since he became more comfortable in your presence. Letting you see him for what he really is. Always playing so cute, so pliant when he needs something– attention, food, for you to just give in and give him what he wants.

Other times he acts as if he could be the reincarnation of Arachne herself. Beautiful, deceptive. Terrifyingly aware of how attractive he is to the human eye. You think he does it on purpose. Likes to see your head spin as you try to keep up with which apparition of Jimin you will experience that day.

He doesn’t know how dangerous it can be, especially for you. How easy it can be to believe that it's real and not just the flirt of his personality. At least you have cute Jimin for now. It’s a little easier to manage.

“You okay Minnie? Something happen?” Your arm reaches up for where he clings to it, fingers gently petting through his fluffy blonde hair. The action seems to soothe him, make him almost pur from the feeling of your fingers alone. Make him feel the slightest bit better from whatever might be irritating him.

He forces his wrists onto your lap, nuzzles his face further into your neck. Inhale all the scents you have to offer. Let you see the issue of spiders.

The tiny holes of his spinnerets come into view, red and inflamed. Shit. They have to be hurting. The skin jutting out slightly more than it should be. Pretty strings of silk hanging in a messy manner. Clogged glands always hurt. Always make for issues.

You frown at the sight, delicately taking his wrist into your hand, looking at it closer. No, not too bad you have to take him to the doctor… you can handle it fine. But it won’t feel good, it never does. Dummy must’ve gotten too excited while webbing up the basement again, got his poor spinnerets working too hard. Overproducing silk to the point it has nowhere to go.

“Min!” You whine, already grabbing a pair of tweezers from the side-table– you’ve learned it’s always good to have a pair on-hand. “I told you that you gotta be more careful!”

“I know!” He hisses almost pathetically, “Just got ahead of myself!”

His voice is no more than a grumble, turning his head away from you yet not pulling away in the slightest. Pretending he hates when you scold him, when you show just how much you care about him.

You pretend it isn’t cute in much the same way.

“Always end up getting ahead of yourself,” You sigh dramatically, acting as if having to take care of the arachnid bothers you more than it actually does. Truth be told, you don’t care in the slightest. Who knows, maybe it even makes you preen in delight.

Feeling wanted as your fingers try to be as gentle as possible while removing the silk. Pulling out the little pieces strand by strand, work out the knot it's made under the skin to try and bring him some relief.

Though, no matter how careful you may be, he still flinches in pain all the same. Trying to cover it up like it was nothing, like every poke and prod doesn’t hurt. Like he can be tough under your gentle hands and pained gaze. He knows it has to be done and no matter how much you hate to see him in pain, you do too.

The dull ache will grow worse and worse, could even turn into an infection if you don't handle it as fast as possible. Worst case? He may have to have his spinnerets removed completely. A fate that feels worse than death to a spider hybrid– or so you’ve read at least.

Soon after he came into your life you did everything in your power to learn as much about his species as possible. Scoured webpage upon webpage, blog post on blog post, youtube video after youtube video. Even went down the sticky threads of a reddit rabbithole to try and learn everything about him.

The only thing you found: how horrible arthropod hybrids are treated in your society. Either sold at auction for absurd prices or cast aside completely depending on how “inhuman” they look. How they are used as tools to show wealth or are discarded from the rest of the world completely. The notion alone had pissed you off to no end.

Jimin was a member of the latter group– or at least that’s what you assumed. From behind no one would be able to tell he was any less than human. His lack of multiple limbs or fluttering wings left him to the devices of the reserve. Probably cast aside, dropped off by the people that raised him for not providing anything that went along with their definition of ‘value’.

Your eyes pinch into a quiet glare. They’re just fucking stupid. Anyone could see that Jimin is perfect. Anyone could see that he did not deserve the treatment he's received, nor deserved to be in the state he was in when you first found him.

And while you’re glad he didn’t end up with anyone else, still didn’t end up in an auction house like many others had, you hate them for thinking they could define his value. That they could define him for more than what he lacked. He still has beautiful fangs. Still has beautiful eyes and his natural cobalt-blue hair. He is still perfect to you.

A sharp hiss leaves his lips, arm attempting to jerk back from your hold as your grip tightens just a hair too hard. As you accidentally tug on a far too sensitive part of the knot. Getting a little too lost in your head while your fingers pick away diligently. Trying to ease the pain as fast as you can.

“Human!” He whines, quickly shushed by a flurry of apologies leaving your mouth. Face flushed, panic in your eyes as he admonishes you.

Once again you’re reminded all too well of how far you’ve fallen for him. Heart racing, brain yelling at itself for hurting him.

It’s dumb, you know that. Everything about the schoolgirl crush you’ve formed on him is. But it doesn’t stop the frown on your lips, the gentle rub of your fingers into his skin as you try to make it up to him.

A quiet grumble leaves his lips, heart hurting at the little dejected expression you wear. He forgives better than he forgets, moving his arms back to the pillow propped on your lap, allowing you to continue your work.

A pout stays on his lips as he watches your hands move. Watches the way the tweezers move under the thin layer of skin. Watches the way you move softer now, taking your time with him. Trying your utmost to not hurt him again.

To you it feels far too intimate. To him, it leaves him almost feral.

“Been working really hard on them lately, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds, trying to distract him or yourself from wandering thoughts– you’re not sure. He’s almost clean– almost all better so you can stop playing nurse. Get a warm washcloth to soothe the skin, take away any ache that lasts from the overused glands.

He nods, “Autumn is coming up…” He mumbles, the words leaving his lips in almost a shy fashion. Like it’s a secret that isn’t a secret at all in the coy fashion he knows you adore.

He knows all too well all of the things that make your stomach flutter. Listens to your heart beat like it’s his favourite song, the flush of your cheeks his favourite painting. Every little twitch of your lip or tap of your feet he catches with ease. You are his favourite everything.

You’ve become far more interesting than any book, far more gorgeous than any actress. Learned to read you better than yourself.But he supposes that would happen to any hybrid who had to wait as long as him, endure as much as he has.

Humans are tricky things, you know? You have to wait and wait and wait just for them to finally give into what they really want. Play the long game to win a prize at the end like he wants, deserves.

He’ll win it soon. August.

“Mmm? Having a contest with the house spiders or something?” You giggle, an effort to try and keep the atmosphere as light as possible. Try to distract from any pain he may be feeling at the moment.

Jimin is convinced he can speak to them– the house spiders that you allow to stay in the corners of your house. Another one of Jimin’s pitfalls that you couldn’t help but wonder into. He claims that they’re his friends, that he talks to them all the time. You, on the other hand, are unconvinced. They probably just use him for food!

“How did you know?! Who told you!” He gasps in mock surprise, head dipping low to rest on your shoulder before he continues, “No, not this time…they all know I would win anyway.”

“I know you would,” He doesn’t allow you in the basement to look at them, at least he hasn’t in the last month, but you’ve seen plenty strung around the house. Dotted in the corners of each room, his way of claiming territory. “You’ve always got such pretty silk.”

His face flushes– he knows you can’t see it. It’s good if you don’t, better if you have no clue how much your words affect him. Exactly how much those words mean to him.

Hopefully you will soon enough. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, you’ll know a lot of things. But right now you just need to stay a little clueless. Just for a little longer.

That’s what he promises to himself.

“What’s happening in autumn then?” You ask, finally pulling the last bit of silk from his left wrist. Both finally clean, finally working like they should be.

Taking each wrist into one of your hands, your thumbs find the openings to the spinnerets. Fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the flesh. Your version of a little makeshift massage. One that always causes him to fall apart under. Spine slumping, mouth parting slightly as he watches your fingers work. His brain going a little empty along with the soothing motion of your fingertips.

Another thing that you don’t understand the intimacy of. The extent of what your touch means to him. How terribly it makes him want to bite you.

His voice is a pitch lower than before. You can’t help but notice the way his breath stutters in his throat at the gentle movement of your thumbs. The way his pupils expand ever so slightly. The way he leans into your touch, avoids eye contact at all costs.

You can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks, the flutter of your ribcage. The way you keep going just because you know it’s making him feel good.

Stop it! You’re thinking in a bad way again! It isn't right! It’s just from the massage, the relief after his spinnerets are cleared! God, you can’t think about him like this. Can’t do this to yourself! Calm down, seriously. None of this is a big deal.

You know he can hear fast your heart is beating regardless of the argument going on inside of your brain.

“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.

Oh. That is something all of the articles definitely neglected to tell you. They didn’t tell you anything about… that aspect of spiders. Not that they explained much to begin with but certainly nothing about breeding.

You can’t help the way your grip tightens, trying to find purchase– stability at the revelation. Heart thrumming in your chest faster, more aggravated than before. The chill that travels down your spine with the hum of his voice so close to your ear.

Can’t help the sinch of jealousy that finds you either.

Fuck, you hate that he’s smirking– without even looking at his face you can tell! You know he can hear the exact pitter-patter of your heart, any little sound or smell you let out he can easily pick up. Knows your exact emotions before you know them yourself.

“Ah… I see.” This topic really shouldn’t make you so embarrassed! Pull yourself together!

You know that all hybrids have a cycle they go through. Heats, ruts, anything in between. You knew that when Jimin came into your life he would be the same! Knew there would be a time when he’d have to lock himself in the basement, body flooded with hormones. The pretty sounds you’d have to block out filling the house.

But still, because it’s him, you can’t help the nerves that arise from your core. The realisation that it would be coming sometime soon.

If you’re going to make it through you’d have to invest in some soundproof headphones. For your own sanity.

“Mmm?” He smiles, voice sweet and saccharine. Away with the pain of existing also left cute Jimin, leaving a deadly predator in its wake. One that likes to taunt and tease you while acting as innocent as an angel.

Leaves your brain confused, floundering trying to keep up with his deceptively sweet tongue. Doing it all just to get a cute little reaction out of you.

Guess he picked up on the exact little whirlwind of your mind, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”

“Shut up!” You whine, trying to stand from the couch so you can retrieve a washcloth. Try to avoid the way your heart is going to pound out of your chest, the way you know you’ll fall farther into his clutches.

His arms lock on firm, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck to rub his cheeks against your skin. Scent you just like he does a million times a day claiming that it's necessary. Spiders smell so much less than other hybrids– he has to do it or else.

Or at least that’s what he says– you think that it’s another lie.

“What!” He laughs, “Not like I’m saying anything dirty, it’s only natural.” He chides, sliding back against the couch, pulling you into his side with ease. Slotting you in like you’re meant to fit there, not whatever mate he meets in the future.

Your brain yells at itself. You know how dangerous that line of thinking is.

“Unless you want me to be dirty? I could if I wanted, you know.” He smiles as innocently as a wolf, fangs oozing with confidence behind them.

“Oh my god!” You sigh dramatically, putting on the front you always do when your heart feels like it may just explode. When you feel like digging an early grave because Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing.

You simply roll your eyes, “And I could punch you in the dick if I wanted to, you know?”

His laugh is always so pretty, boisterous yet still as light as air. Head tilting back, his neck on display as he chastises you for the empty threat. One you both know won’t come true, at least not right now.

He smiles, a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead as he urges you to stay. Promising he’ll be a ‘good little spider’ so you don’t have to worry about him. The implication of snacks and movies making you stay. The way he pouts when you tell him you’re not buying anymore BugBitez™ until the end of the week confirming that this is where you need to be right now. That it’s right.

It’s almost too easy for him too. Everything is too easy for you when it comes to Jimin. He claims the exact same.

Or at least, that’s what he mumbles in your ear now. Arms wrapped around you as tight as he can manage. Movie nearing its end with Jimin on the cusp of consciousness, you having lost the plot of it a long time ago.

Something about Aliens? Cowboys? Mothman? You couldn’t even hope to guess. Not when his breath is in your ear.

It’s hard to focus when he’s so close like this. When he’s saying pretty words that could get you lost in your fantasy over and over again. Making him harder and harder to give him up every moment that passes you by.

“Got lucky with my human.” He mumbles, half asleep, face buried in your hair, “Really good human.”

His lips move so lazily when they speak. Fangs running across the surface your skin like they have a mind of their own. Never daring to pierce the surface. Never daring to bite you for real. No matter how bad he really, really wants to.

How bad he wants to mate you. Make you his pliant little prey– see if the rumours about what his venom does to humans is real.

Your breath stutters but you pay it no mind. Trying, begging your eyes to remain focused on the movie. To ignore how deceptive sleepy Jimin is. Tomorrow, he will act as normal. His words will carry no weight.

He isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t his mate. You two are just friends sharing a house.

Feelings you have no right to have are forced down over and over again. It seems like it's become a daily occurrence– a pattern of habit you have no hope in breaking. The love piling behind your eyelids means nothing when the person he is meant to be with could be around any corner.

But it’s getting harder. Too hard to hold them back and restrain yourself. Especially on nights like this when it feels like fate that the two of you met.

Thinking back on that fateful day now, all of those months ago, you’re sure it had to have been. Maybe the winter gods (if such a thing existed) decided to shine their light on you; to make the blizzard a little less lonely. Make your life filled with long days and even longer nights just a little bit brighter.

Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.

Wanted you to live a life knowing your affections will never be reciprocated, knowing that Jimin has a fated one out there somewhere just waiting for him. Knowing that it isn’t you. Cursing you to a life of watching Jimin fall for another.

Thinking becomes so hard when it’s about Jimin. When it’s about the man who made you so far into the pits of hell that you don’t think you’ll ever crawl out.

So instead your fingers simply squeeze his hand. Rub gentle, soothing circles into the skin. Care for him like you’re meant to instead of thinking about what the future may hold. What will happen when he does find his mate. What they might be like, what they might dress like, if they’ll have to move in here, if you’ll have to watch him fall in love over and over again every single day.

You think you might hate them.

You sigh.

No, that wouldn’t be fair. Could never be fair to Min. He deserves happiness. He deserves the world whether or not you’re a part of it.

You hope he isn’t able to pick up on the changes in your scent.

“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”

August 11th.

A beautiful dream shattered by the incoherent nightmare that is your spider pacing around your room. A pillow pulled to either side of your head, doing everything in their power to drown out the noise as an audible groan leaves your lips. His nervous prattling too early in the morning for your liking.

Any other day it would be fine, you would think that it’s cute. The way he worries his lip between his teeth. The way he gently bites down on the pad of his thumb, one arm crossed while the other soothes the skin of his chin.

Any other day you’d sit in bed, listen to him. Mock him slightly with how much worry runs through his body.

But he isn’t talking about his mate any other day, is he? No, it seems that the occasion has been saved for this morning. His head running a mile a minute, losing all composure he once had before. Losing his very sense of self as anxiety courses through his veins.

“What if it isn’t good enough? I need to present it to her soon. Need to make sure everything is perfect for her.” Apparently he had met her. When? You have not a single clue. Jimin hasn’t left the house in weeks other than to go hunt bugs and to go to the grocery store with you.

“What if the web isn’t big enough? She might not like the style either…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the carpet as he moves back and forth across your room, “God and what if she hates the food… No, no you know what she likes.”

“Jimin, she’ll like everything. It will be fine.” You groan, sitting up in bed to face him, voice gruff with morning air.. You don’t want him to be in here, talking about this. Talking to you about this. Shattering your heart every second that passes by.

You knew it would happen someday, you really did. You tried to do everything right. Tried to pretend reality wasn’t creeping through your windows with every second that passes by. Try to ignore the impending sense of doom that covered your skin.

Did everything right only to end up failing once again due to the rations of Park Jimin.

You try to look at him through the fuzz in your eyes, sleep still trying to force you back into its clutches with everything that it has. Try to see what he is doing– understand what he is saying. His voice continuing to speak yet not fluent enough for you to actually understand. His body twitches ever so slightly, head jerking as his teeth dig deeper and deeper into his thumb. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room– not to him at least. Lost within the tangles of his brain.

Pulling himself deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind, spiralling out of control of everything that seems rational, everything that he is meant to do or meant to say. It’s almost like he isn’t in the room at all. Isn’t pacing along your floor, surrounded by your scent. Comforting his inner spider before it loses control entirely with the hormones that rush through his veins.

August 11th. The date was circled 5 times on his calendar– red exclamation points, doodles scattered across the stupid day. Yet now, for the life of him he can’t seem to remember why. He can’t seem to remember much of anything though, so that isn’t a surprise. Only his web. The gifts he’s prepared for this day. Yeah. Those are the only things he can seem to think about.

A hand lands on his shoulder– one that isn’t his own. Who’s touching him? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure of much other than the smell combing through the room that becomes sweeter and sweeter by the second. Honey he is unable to resist.

Especially with how soft the hand is that touches him. How gentle it is on his shoulder, his pace back and forth falling just so he can revel in it. Understand it.

“Hey Min.” Oh. It’s you. Your voice coming through the fog. Your voice startling him from the dream.

Gorgeous, gorgeous you.

Mate.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Why do you sound sad? No, maybe it’s distressed. His face falls.

No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sad. You should never be sad. You should always be happy with him. You should love him. His love should make you whole. Your love makes him whole.

Wait, does he have your love yet?

Now he isn’t sure.

All he knows is that he should. You should. He should wrap you up in his nest, hold you close until you feel nothing but him. Don’t think about anybody else. Look at anybody else. You should always be happy and safe. Happy and safe with him just like he feels with you. Has always felt with you.

More than that stupid reserve. More than his webs back there. It was fate that brought the two of you together, right? Right? So he should be allowed to indulge just a little. He should be allowed to let go of this stupid, fucked up play he’s been putting on for so long. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.

The reserve always taught him he was a wild spider, you know?

Wait, spider.

Spider.

His rut. That’s what’s coming today. That’s why the day was circled. That’s why Jimin isn’t acting like himself. That’s why his spider is itching, clawing to come out to play. Why he so desperately wants all of you to himself.

He hasn’t even presented his web yet.

He tilts his head at you, blank eyes staring down into bright ones. Ones that hold his entire world at your fingertips.

“There he is.” Your smile is almost blinding. Makes his head pound just like the sun's rays.

That’s right. That’s why he needs to keep his composure. To keep that smile on your lips. To keep you happy. To keep you falling in love with him slowly the human way. The way he knows you’d prefer. Knows you adore every second of.

He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.

The human way is better. Better at keeping you pliant. Better at keeping you happy. Better at keeping you unafraid.

He hates when people are scared of him. Hates when people flinch with every movement he makes. Hates when people can’t just love him like he so craves. He’s still a hybrid. He still wants love. He was bred for it just like the rest of them.

So when you came into his life, so gentle and caring despite the palpable fear that scented the air– weighed it heavily, it sparked light behind his eyes. When he felt you touch him, felt the sparks dance across his flesh and allowed himself to inhale once more. When there were no traces of fear within you, only the scent of his mate. His eternity.

He knew he had to do the right thing. Had to make you love him the human way. Had to make you fall for him, endure the wait. Endure the daily struggles of his instincts just so you would never be afraid of him. The end would be worth it.

He would never let you fear him even at the cost of his own sanity.

Because he isn’t Taehyung. He’s Jimin. He’s a good spider.

“You need to be careful Min…” You tell him quietly. Your voice is the only anchor to his shaky world. The light brought him back from the edge over and over again today.

He needs to leave your room before all of his planning goes to waste. Calm himself down. Present to you his web and all of his gifts so you can accept him properly.

“Your thumb… it’s bleeding honey…” He tilts his head again, inspects your hands as they move closer. Tries to force lucid thought from behind his heavy eyelids as you touch his skin directly.

Tries to ignore the throb deep inside as you gently remove the finger from his lips. Pull it away from the fang that was piercing him. The sting of the bite.

He hadn’t even noticed it.

He watches as a single drop spills from the abrasion. Slipping down his finger. Feels the way your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

The way your thumb comes to his lips, worry etched across your features as you swipe away any remaining blood from his lower lip.

Leave. He needs to leave.

He isn’t sure how your finger ends up in his mouth. His plush lips wrapping around the digit, tongue curling around your flesh as he licks away the red spilled. Sucking on it gently as heat curls in his stomach. His eyes half-lidded, staring into the recesses of your very soul.

A groan passes through him at the taste of your skin. How sweet you are against his tongue. Do you even know what a vixen you are? What a tease you’ve come to be over the past 9 months?

No. Of course you don’t. Not with the blush that rushes to your cheeks. The stutter of his name that passes through his lips. The questions that you ask– what are you doing? Wh-why?

He wants you to be quiet. To enjoy you for all it’s worth. Enjoy everything you have to offer.

The command is silent– no more than the press of his bleeding thumb to your lips. The demand that you part them for him. To clean that wound that you unknowingly caused.

A hand on your cheek directing your head back. He’s been a good little spider, you can be a good little girl too, can’t you?

You are.

“J-Jimi–” He slips it inside, resting the pad against your tongue. Holding it in place. Asking, begging for this one little thing from you. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve always made him feel better before. This is no different, is it?

And so you do.

He watches the way your eyelids fall, your lips close as you begin to gently suck against it like he so craves. Like he desires down to the very cells that make up his body.

To imagine it’s his cock instead. Gently fucking into you over and over again, teaching you how to take his it how he likes. How he knows you’ll like. You’ll love everything about him. You’re meant to. It’s in the fabric of your DNA and soon it will all be his. Right after he shows you his–

Shit.

He needs to leave.

Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.

His rut is coming too fast, too strong now that he finally has his mate in his grasp. He needs to leave. He needs to calm down so he can go this properly.

He leaves you on the bed, more confused and distressed than when he first entered. Annoyance hovering over your entire wake in a blanket of unrest. One that you know will not ease your soul for the rest of the day.

The spider has locked himself away. Hiding from you. Keeping himself in the basement, door locked, shutters drawn to drown out any sense of you that may be persisting.

You, on the other hand, have had nothing to do but stew in your own emotions. Think about every little decrepit detail that occurred hours prior. Edicting yourself to only address him by spider even in your thoughts.

It’s spiteful, sure. But it’s the least he deserves, you know? After everything he’s put you though– pulling you along like a little puppet on a string. Making you sit idly by for him to give you any lick of affection he’s willing to part with. Making you feel special, like you're worth something every second that he gets only for him to remind you with too much familiarity that he isn’t yours to have.

He woke you up, told you about his mate, looked at you like he was going to fuck you, and made you suck on his finger only for him to leave? The sheer fucking audacity of this man.

You’re sick of it.

Sick of having to force everything down because you know it isn’t what he wants. Sick of falling in love with him every day. Sick of having to play house. Sick of not having him. Sick of being playing the lovesick fool.

So, into the novels you fall. Into alternate worlds that are far better than your own. Displacing yourself into new habitats, new environments to escape the confines of the four stuffy walls that surround your body, head, and heart.

Into a world where it’s okay to fall in love with whoever you want. Where it’s okay to feel wanted. Where reality can be shut away by your headphones and a good snack. Where you can ignore the body approaching behind you. The tap on your shoulder.

You try to, honestly. And a good attempt it was.

Keeping your grip firm on the pages, nails digging into the paper below. Breath in your lungs held as if doing so would keep him away. Eyes tracing the pages over and over again though reading nothing. Attempting to appear as if you didn’t notice him at all.

Maybe he would leave, that was your biggest hope. Take the headphones placed firmly over your ears as a loud, obnoxious hint. That he would see you’re not interested and retreat to his basement layer to plot on the next way to torture your heart.

He doesn’t. He never would.

His frame comes to kneel in front of you. To stare up at you with those big brown doe eyes that you know you could never escape. Placing a gentle hand on your knee, trying to get you to see that he is there. That he wants to see you.

You see his lips move, though ignore entirely what they say. Letting out a huff, turning your body away from his own. Continuing to mindlessly stare at the pages even though their contents holds no meaning in this moment. No real value.

His forehead drops to your leg, a sigh leaving his throat. Words mumbled from his lips you’re unable to make out– not that you would want to hear them anyway.

Maybe it’s a temper tantrum of sorts. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. To feel even a pinch of what you do. He probably never does.

Your fight is a good one. It truly is– at least you think so. But it all comes tumbling down the second his lips press against your knee. His hands reaching past your iron grip on the book to hold your own.

You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.

Especially when you see his lips mouth the word please. His brows crested with worry, his lower lip quivering in worry. Fangs biting the surface to try and soothe the nerves he feels.

Any sense of foreboding he held earlier, gone. The tick of his shoulders, the cold, blank stare of his eyes vanished. Your Jimin, the one you’re used to, in love with, rising to the surface again.

You’re unable to fight against the plea, no matter how much you want to. Unable to fight against him.

“What is it.” Your voice is harsh as you remove your headphones, setting the book to the side. Much more than it appears he’d like it to be if the flinch of his neck is anything to go by.

“I…” Words feel lost in his throat, but he forces himself to continue forward, “I have something I need to show you, human…”

Why is he acting so weird? Acting like earlier never happened? He seems nervous, almost petrified at your reaction. As if anything you say could break him entirely.

You don’t understand it at all. Anything about this situation, really.

“Okay…?” You watch his face carefully, trying to reason. To figure out why exactly the air seems so heavy. Why this situation feels so tense. “Show me then?”

“I…You have to come with me?” It sounds like a question, his face flinching at his own words. He’s meant to do this perfectly. Why can’t he seem to get it right? Why can’t his instincts help him with this? “Like, I can’t bring it up here… I need you to follow me?”

“Huh?” The quiet breath leaves your throat as your features pinch.

He quickly tries to explain further, trying to help you see through the worry on your face, “Not far I promise. Just to the basement, yeah?”

Your head jerks back in surprise, “You never let me go down there.”

“Yeah but…it’s special this time.” Oh.

It’s almost as if the pieces click together on their own. Your brain drawing conclusions, making decisions for you despite the obvious staring right in your face. His mate is probably down there. Wants you to meet her.

You can only sigh, accept your fate for what it is. Follow the boy with the string to the basement once again, just like the first night he came tumbling into your life.

“Okay.”

He holds your hand as you walk.

Holds it as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the red string of fate that has tied your two bodies together for the rest of eternity. As if he might die the second you two part. As if you might run away the second he lets go.

You never do, never try to run away from him. You’ve tried to run away from your feelings for so long. The least you can do is see through to the end of them, right? That would be the right thing to do. The dignified thing instead of trying to throw a tantrum on the floor.

The walk to the basement feels like the longest in your life. A marathon you have no training for, no experience with tugging you along. Silence extended for miles along each creak of the floorboards, each set of the dim stairs.

Jimin left the lights off, dusk settling along the horizon not long ago. Only distant flickers from the basement coming through as you make your way down. Candle light in the distance lighting the way.

He doesn’t say a thing as your feet reach the bottom of the stairs, toes cushioned by soft silk lining the floors. He doesn’t have to.

It’s beautiful. That’s the only way you can describe what he’s turned the basement into.

Beautiful silks cover every waking surface– the floors, the walls, the ceiling all lined in brilliant patterns of white dancing across the surface. Creating stories as if they were living themselves.

You wish you could stare at them. Admire them for the rest of your life. Decipher each piece laying, coating the surface. Envisioning the world through the eyes of Jimin. Through the world around him.

Webs cross from floor to ceiling, taking space over the room. Intricately laid in patterns you are more accustomed to with spiders. Webbed hatching sectioning off parts of the space, acting as furniture for the bug to rest on.

As your eyes scan the room, you finally find what you think has to be the most gorgeous web in the world. Sitting in the far right corner of the room stands a nest that takes up the entire corner. The effort it took to make it clear in its craft. So soft, so comfortable.

You almost want to curl up in it yourself.

Illuminated by only the glow of candle light, Jimin does nothing but watch as you take everything in. Watch as your face changes into that of euphoria. Mesmerised by everything he has worked so hard on, everything he’s done just to impress you.

You turn to face him, staring at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes.

“Jimin, this is– fuck this is incredible,” Your voice is breathless, cut off by how overwhelmed you are with everything. With him. “This must’ve taken you so long, it’s so beautiful. Oh my god, how did you–”

He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take it now that he has you here, has you in his web. Now that he can keep you in it forever. Complimenting him. Completing him. He needs to finish with the rest of this fast. Before he does something he’ll regret. Before he finishes showing you how good a mate he will be to you properly.

He tugs you forward, practically puzzling as he tugs you deeper into his room of webs. Expertly guiding you through each one without a second to spare.

Jittery, excited. Feeting rocking themselves back and forth as he sits you on a blanket placed on the ground.

He isn't going to last much longer. Not before his heat takes over. Before he loses his mind at you in the sight of his nest. His mate in his nest. Waiting to be bred. Waiting for–

No, no Jimin. Stop it. Stop acting like a spiderling that doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has his mate in his nest.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he tries to calm himself down, “I made us a picnic… I hope you like it.”

His spider hisses at the words, hating having to describe it as something stupid like a picnic. No, it's a nuptial gift. Evidence that he’s a good enough mate. That he’s good enough for you. That he deserves you.

You watch him, watch as he pushes the basket filled to the brim with food over to you. Watch as his frame shakes slightly as he stares at you, fingers tapping against strings of webs closest to your leg.

You can’t help but feel lost. Overwhelmed with affection, but utterly, entirely, hopelessly lost all the same. What is he doing? Why is he presenting all of this for you? Shouldn’t he be doing this for his mate? Isn’t all of this some type of courting ritual?

Oh.

It appears the puzzle you constructed– pieces matched together haphazardly stuck together with glue isn’t the solution after all. Isn’t the reality presented before you know.

You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?

Your eyes widen, head jerking to meet Jimin’s gaze. His pupils shaky, not daring to leave the surface of the basket. Not daring to move an inch until you accept him.

You’re an idiot.

“J-Jimin a-are we…?” You hesitate to ask, hesitate to break the gentle balance residing over the entire basement.

His head snaps to face your own, eyes plagued with the same blank, predatory look as before.

“Mate.” Deep, harsh, scratchy. His voice makes you feel like he’s going to devour you whole. Like he is the monster waiting in the deepest recesses of your nightmares when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When in reality he is the very being your soul yearns for stronger than any other.

The revelation, the– everything leaves you overwhelmed. Emotions strung up for the stars, casting aside any comets that tried to hurdle towards the perfect glass encasing this moment. This eternity you wish to live in forever as you finally understand that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You can’t help but grab his cheeks– ignore how venomous he looks, and press your lips against his own. Can’t help the explosion behind your eyelids, the sparks that travel across your skins in euphoric waves. The way your heart swells like a balloon, racing in your chest so fast you fear you may die.

Every emotion you’ve felt that day, every nagging, creeping sensation finding its way into the back of your skull vanishes in an instant. No going back. No orchestra or chorus reprise. No thoughts of not being his mate. You are his mate.

Only him.

Only Jimin.

He doesn’t part with you, not for a second. Not when he finally has you against him. When you so easily rise into his lap. When his natural instincts finally stop screaming at him and take over completely. Kiss you with everything he’s worth. Devour you whole.

His hands find purchase on your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin. Mocking him for not doing this in the closet with you all those months ago. Allowing him to truly understand how good it would’ve felt then. How good it will feel every second that follows.

He thinks you have to be the prettiest thing in the world.

His spider thinks that you need to be bred full of his spiderlings. Fucked so hard that you wont be able to walk– wont be able to leave his nest. That he’ll be able to tie you up nice and pretty, stuff you with his cum over and over again until you’d never even think about leaving.

His spider is winning.

“Min…” Your voice is breathless, trying to keep up with the flurry of kisses he presses against your lips, your face– anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s addicted to the feeling, like he’s making up for lost time.

“Min, I love you.” And just like that, any sanity he has left vanishes.

His spider has won.

Without a second thought you’re lifted from your place on his lap, thrown carelessly into his nest. His nest where you will stay. His nest where he’ll keep you. All thoughts vanished from that pretty little head of yours. Just like it should be.

His hands find the back of his collar, shirt discarded without a second thought on the floor. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when he has you. When he wants to feel you fully.

You can only stare– fawn at his tan skin. The gentle muscles on display for you. For your eyes only while he crawls towards you. Stalks you just like they might a pretty little butterfly caught in their web. Wrapped in webs and killed without a second thought.

His lips find yours once again. Slotting together, filling the other to make them whole. Dazed in lust and passion, neither soul hoping there would ever be a way out for the other.

Well, there won’t be for you. But that’s okay. You’ll love it. Love every second of it.

He knows it as his fingers dance against your skin. Sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, running with skilled ease up your sides. The chill that racks through your body is evidence enough. The way you so easily allow him to draw your shirt over your head solidifies it. Your shorts follow, making it set in stone.

Your breath comes out in short pants, every slight touch, every little movement sends fire burning through your skin. Igniting you, setting your core ablaze with heat that only he can extinguish.

Fingers gently sliding over your ribs, thumbs coming just blow your breasts to rub circles into the skin while his fangs nip gently into your lower lip. He can’t bite you now. No, after he mates you he can bite you all he wants.

He groans at the thought, hips rocking themselves against your clothed cunt. Allowing you to feel all of him– the press of his cock, the motion of his need allowing you to fall higher and higher into a heaven you did not think possible.

You whine at him to do something, anything. Too impatient to wait any longer. Too impatient to live a second more without something, anything buried inside of you.

His smile is sick, twisted as he reclines back on his heels. Allows himself to get a good look at you.

“Shh, Shh…” His hand cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb against your lips. Pressing it inside with more ease than before. More compliance than before. There’s a good little girl.

“Poor thing is having a hard time, huh?” He mocks gently, hips pressed firm against your own allowing you to feel every inch of him, “Pretty lips all swollen, pussy a little mess from just kissing… mm mm…”

He groans, hand slipping between your legs. What he finds is no more than a mess of a girl. Hips bucking upwards. Slick dripping from your center, panties coated in arousal. Puffy little clit begging for any attention he’s willing to give it.

Without any hesitation his thumb finds your clit, pressing against it without any thought of reprieve. Without any thought to give you any of the relief you crave. You’ve made him wait this long, you can wait a second, no?

He groans high as you buck against his hand, mewl leaving your lips as some sort of plea. Ah~ how cute. Such a little thing so desperate for something, anything that you’re willing to give up your very head in return? How cute! How adorable!

His spider preens. Is almost so belated he doesn’t notice the hands that come down to grip his wrist. Hold him in place all so you can circle your hips against his thumb. Rub adorable little rings into your clit without any help from him. Use him to make yourself feel good.

A coo leaves his lips. Who is he to deny such a pretty little human?

“Ah pretty baby wants to feel good, does she?” He almost giggles at how pathetic you look. How adorably you cling to him. How hard you try.

His arm is ripped from your grasp, pulling back from the very place you desire him most. Where your arousal soaks the cotton of cotton, so palpable he can practically taste it in the air.

“It’s okay baby…” He sees the annoyance in your face, the battiness you hold in your heart coming to light. Excited to tame it. Excited to quell the pretty little devil in his web.

Tie you up. Breed full.

Breed you.

His fingers work fast. Arms are pulled over your head, silks quickly pinning them to the surface. Strings wrapping and wrapping until he’s sure you’re secure. Sure you can’t move.

His hips gently rock against your own, clothes cock pressing against your core. Watching as your hips buck, as you try to urge him closer with a pathetic whine.

See exactly how you struggle against the strings.

Perfect, perfect girl. How did he get so lucky, huh? Can never be sure.

You’re unable to stop the cry that leaves your throat as his hands pull your panties aside, finger thrusting into your wet heat. Filling you up, making you feel a little more whole.

“Min~” The moan of his name is shaky. Every sense you have in overdrive as he works his finger against your walls. Every push inside deeper, harder. Curling against your walls in the exact way you craved.

Pleasure coils in your stomach faster than you thought possible. A second finger joining the first, pumping in and out as he prepares you for his cock. Prepared you to take all of him and nothing less.

He knows you can do it. You can, can’t you?

“Mhmm baby, I know… head a little clearer now, huh?” He chuckles, chastising, “Can only think when you’re full. It’s so cute.”

You whimper at his words, head rolling back as the coil pulls tighter and tighter within your gut. Urging you to just let it snap, feel everything you’ve been waiting for.

“F-feels good…” You mutter quietly, unable to see the haze cloud his vision. The way his amused expression drops into that of a wild animal.

Without any warning his fingers pull out of your heat, body leaving your own entirely as he stands. Grabbing your hips, dragging them closer. Flipping your body over. Setting you pretty on your knees, arms uncomfortable crossed in front of you.

He quickly rids himself of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from their confines. Head red and messy as it hits his stomach. Angry at how neglected you’ve left him. How desperately he wants this.

You have no way of preparing yourself for the drag of his cock through your lips. The gentle nudge against your clit. Thick head dragging through your folds, spreading your arousal. Mixing it with his pre-cum.

Making you messy. Making you dirty just for him. Making you belong to him.

“Gonna fill my mate.” All humour is gone from the man behind you, as if he is someone else entirely. It’s really too bad your head has a few too many screws loose to care. Care about anything other than the way his firm head presses against your hole. The way his blunt nails dig into your flesh.

“Gonna breed her. Mate her. Make her mine.” It’s almost as if his word is a command. The very sentences he utters become law.

You can only nod your head. Give yourself to the very man that fate led you to all those months ago. “Want~”

The thrust of his hips into your walls is almost too much to bear. A cry leaving your lips as he fucks himself inside in a single thrust. Forcing you to take him to the hilt, to feel all of him stretch your walls. No break. No waiting around.

You’ve both done enough waiting.

It hurts— the burn, as he stretches you full. Presses his cock against your walls making sure your cunt remembers no one but him.

The way he gives no reprieve, fucking into you like an animal starved. Pulling back until only the tip remains inside before fucking himself fully inside once more.

“Min!” You cry, waves of pain and pleasure boiling all the same within your bones. All the same inside of your blurred head, nothing but static and thoughts of him behind the line of your eyes. Slipping off into space as you let cunt clenched pathetically around his cock.

“Good mate, taking me so well. Such a good human.” He groans, hips pulling back and thrusting into you over and over again. Making you fall apart with his pace. Pumping his cock into your pathetic little hole fast and hard. Ruining you for any other man.

Making sure he will be the only one you allow to enter heaven.

Your moans come out wanton, pleaing. Hips start to move back against him, trying to keep up with his pace despite the burn you begin to feel in your tied arms. Desperate to let him know just how good he’s filling you. Just how good he’s making you feel.

“My mate.” His pants come out harsh, breath on your neck as he hovers close. The sound of skin and against skin is the only thing you’re able to hear. The pressure of Jimin’s lips against your neck makes you feel like you’re about to go insane.

He’s desperate to make you fall apart on his cock alone. Pleasure building and building, the coil tight. Ready to snap at any moment. Ready to fall apart at his command.

“Gonna make you mine forever pretty.” His voice is featherlight once more. The switches have you reeling, your brain spinning. “Want that, don’t you? For me to bite you? Mark you up? Breed you full of my spiderlings? Ruin that pretty little head for anything else.”

He sighs, nails digging into your hips where they’re sure to leave bruises. You nod your head in agreement, moans spilling past your lips as his hips change their angle. His cock hitting the spot that leaves you seeing stars on every thrust.

“Say the word and you’re mine.” You feel his fangs against your skin. The harsh drag across your delicate skin. “Forever.”

You can’t take it anymore, pleasure burning through you. Blinding you. Unable to think about anything else other than the rough thrusts of his cock against your walls.

“Please.” It’s no more than a whimper, but he swears it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.

His teeth clamp into your flesh— the final thing needed to push you over the edge into bliss. Your body stutters, walls a vice around his cock as the coil finally snaps. Heat flowing through every cell you possess. The only thing in your soul is Jimin.

Your back arches, eyes dotting with black as you allow it to overtake you. Jimin rocking you against him, groaning as he fills you with his cum, painting your walls white. Allowing you to ride out your high with him. Finally allowing the rut to rid his brain for only a moment.

He slowly pulls out of you, panting. Quickly moving to cover your center back up with your underwear. Make sure all of his cum stays tucked away in your pretty little pussy to get you nice and pregnant.

You can only whimper, body twitching at every movement he makes. Worn down your bones— energy sucked so dry you can’t even feel the throb of your neck. Don’t even notice the blood that drips from where he marked you— claimed you in the way only a hybrid can.

All you're sure of is the need to be close to him. Need to feel him.

Is this what he had been feeling all along? Marks were known to do that, to allow you to feel what your mate does. If he had to endure what you’re feeling right now, it had to have been hell for him.

“Min…” you calm his name. Pull him from where he stares between your legs. Where his fingers rub circles into the surface of your underwear, spreading any cum that leaks from your twitching hole.

Within a second he’s at attention, staring at you with all of the love in the world. You’re not sure how you missed it before. How you could have deluded yourself into believing any less.

He pouts as you wiggle at your restraints, silk holding your arms in place all this time. He gently shakes his head, slowly flipping your body back over onto its back. Crawling over you to look at your face properly. Take in your fucked out expression. Ruined his pretty little human. Made her perfect.

“Don’t want to.” His lower lip juts out at you, eyes wide just like a begging dog. “Look pretty tied up in my web. Should stay like this. Forever.”

“I don’t think my job would like that very much.” You giggle, lip pouting out to match his own. He leans down, quickly capturing your mouth in a quick kiss.

Something hard pressed against your leg once more. His hand comes down to guide it against your heat. Rub against you despite the oversensitivity and cum leaking from your hole.

“Then we move to the woods together… I’ll hunt for us…” He grumbles, pushing your underwear to the side once more. Collecting any cum that has spilled out with his cock, gently fucking it back into your cunt with the head.

A whine rips from your lips due to oversensitivity. Pussy sore, aching from what he just put you though. What you aptly begged for. Yet you can’t deny him. Don’t want to deny him with how good it feels to be filled. How addicted you’ve become. Cock drunk.

“Wh-what?” You try to breathe, walls fluttering around his length as he slowly thrusts back inside. Filling you to the brim once again. “W-we can’t do that, Minnie…”

His thrusts are slow, languid. Almost like he’s making love. Treating you with utmost care despite how wrecked your entire frame is.

He is entirely unaffected. His rut leaves him wanting for more and more until you have nothing left to give. Face twisting into confusion at your words.

“Why can’t we? Make you up a nice pretty web… keep you full all the time” He hums against your neck, gently licking at his mark, “treat you like a real good mate, yeah? Fill you up over and over. Will look so pretty with my spiderlings.”

He moans the words, hips speeding up ever so slightly at the thought. It dawns on you that this must be his rut talking. Filling his head with nonsense he knows can’t come true. In a few days when he wakes up from it, he’ll probably pretend he never said anything about taking you to the woods. Keeping you there.

No harm in agreeing, is there? Especially when he makes you feel so good. So happy and full. When it makes him feel just as good. When your head starts to feel fuzzy, the exhaustion weighs heavily on your consciousness. You’re on birth control anyway, it's fine.

“Mmhmm… sounds nice..” You moan quietly, already feeling your second orgasm approaching. Allowing yourself to become lost in the same dream as him. Allowing yourself to fall victim to pretty words and false promises. Ones that he intends to make true.

“Gonna take such good care of my mate.” He groans, face buried in your neck. He feels your walls clamp around him, pulling him in over and over again. Cunt never wanting him to leave.

His hand draws between your thighs, fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Neither of you are going to last long. Both too sensitive to do anything but fall into the pleasure of each other.

Pussy fluttering against his cock, head rolling back as your high runs through you once more. White clouding your vision, ears ringing as you are overcome with fire. Drowning in the feeling of his cock fucking you full of his cum once again.

He lets out a harsh groan as he fills you. Breeds you just like a good spider would. Makes you feel complete as he helps you through both of your highs.

Your eyes feel heavy— too heavy to stay open even a second longer. Too tired to stay awake as he pulls your underwear back over your center. As he pulls your body close to his own.

He doesn’t blame you, never could. It must be hard having to keep up with a hybrid during their rut. But he knows you can do it. Knows you’ll do it for him. Especially with the promises you made. The ones you made only to him.

The last words you hear before falling under the veil of consciousness is a simple declaration. One you’ve waited months to hear.

“I love you.”

“Y/n! Hurry up!”

The whine of Jimin’s voice is louder than any car, highway, hell— aeroplane you’ve ever heard, you’re sure of it. The grip of his hand around your own is like iron, tugging you along the worn trail path, trying to urge you faster than your feet will allow.

“I’m going! I’m goin!” You chide with him, giggle leaving your lips at his hurried nature. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the spider more excited. Maybe even more so than when he strokes the bite mark scarred into your shoulder– your permanent reminder that you are his and he is yours.

“Not fast enough!” He groans, head rolling back in annoyance, “The best spot is going to get taken!”

He’s told you about this spot time and time again– excitement palpable with every mention. A beautiful clearing back at the reserve, one that the trees shine perfectly through. The best spot for basking in the whole park, as well as for begging humans for snacks.

You smile at the thought. Following as close behind him as your feet will manage. Blanket and bags of food tight in your grip. After months of paperwork, he can finally return to this place without fear they’ll take you away from him. The mate licence in your wallet proof enough of it.

He finally gets to take you to the reserve– the place he called home for so long before he met you. The place where he first learned how to be a proper spider. The first place he learned to make friends. He’s most excited about the latter part, getting to show off his shiny new mate to all of his friends. The one he caught the human way.

He’s been talking about it for days, since you first brought up the idea of visiting. Of wanting to see where he lived before he met you. Prattling on and on about everything he’s going to show you, how he’s going to introduce you to Jungkook if he can. About the waterfall over the cove that you two can swim in without anyone finding out.

All of it is a dream come true for your little spider. Your mate.

You smile at the thought– how excited he is as he helps you set up the blanket on the ground. As he helps spread food all around you. Body jittery, head twitching at every little sound.

It’s clear he’s going a little crazy with joy. Entirely ecstatic to have you here with him. Sitting across from him on the ground in a way that almost mocks the picnic you had in his basement that night months ago.

Ah, sorry. Nuptial gift ceremony. He liked it a lot better when you called it that.

“Oh! And then, after we eat, I can introduce you to the head of the park! She’s Namjoon’s mate, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He talks to himself, chatting idly about nothing as he presses another strawberry to your lips. You eagerly take it, biting down on the fruit without a second thought.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Really? It must be difficult to confess to her, then.”

He nods his head, overexcited as he looks past you into the trees. Nose twitching as he tries to pick up a scent. Yellow tinted sunglasses high on his nose to block any light from hurting his delicate pupils.

You can’t help but think about how beautiful he is. How lucky you are to have him.

His hair has grown out since that fateful day months ago, blonde replaced by a deep blue that puts the night sky to shame. How his frame has bulked out ever so slightly. Pretty tan skin looking more healthy than ever. His head off in the clouds, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t pick you up and drag you off into the woods.

The human way is never easy for him.

“Mhmm… he’s trying but he isn’t very good at it. Doesn’t understand how humans like it to be done…” He mumbles.

“Hybrid’s do it different?”

“Yeah,” He seems a little lost in space, nose twitching harsher as he tries to recognise the exact scent he knows will be coming soon. Jungkook can never hold himself back from a picnic, no matter how far. He just wishes his nose was stronger.

“Hybrids just take their mate right away. Prove they’re a good mate and then it’s done. But human’s you have to teach.” Your shoulders drop slightly, and maybe if it wasn’t for the love you felt for him or the mate mark pressing against your neck, you would have understood the severity of his words. Of teaching a human, tricking them into making them fall.

“Oh…” You pout, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. None the wiser to the meaning behind his words, “I’m sorry… it must’ve been hard for you.”

He only shakes his head, “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to ever be scared.”

Suddenly, Jimin is standing. Eyes darting across the underbrush that surrounds the treeline. You follow his vision, squinting slightly to try and make out exactly what he is looking at when two antennae pop over the other side of a bush. Twitching, pointing in your direction. Hunting down food as they move closer.

The insect moves close, tilting his head as he finally moves within your line of vision. Mop of brown floppy hair on his head, wide bunny eyes. Twitching nose all the same. If it wasn’t for the lack of ears and black antennae jolting from his head, you would’ve thought he was a rodent.

“Kook!” Jimin’s voice is loud as he quickly run’s to meet the boy. The other looks just as excited, eyes lighting up with stars as his legs take off in the same direction. The two fall into a puddle of laughter and play fighting as they fall to the ground in greeting.

The infamous Jungkook, an ant hybrid– the biggest ant hybrid you’ve seen, mind you. Jimin’s best friend is finally revealed. And you have to say, seeing them together. Watching as your mate attempts to playfully tie him up silks has to be the prettiest sight you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my god, Min!” You laugh as Jimin struggles, the giant ant hybrid easily breaking free from the others strings. Instantly the attention is on you. Jimin leaning back to his heels, head thrown back as he whines.

“Shut up! He’s gotten stronger! My webs hold you good enough!” You continue to laugh, unaware of the ant sneaking closer. His antenna tickling your shoulder as he stares at the food in front of you. Begging for just a little taste to bring home to his colony, a little bit to make the queen happy.

You happily oblige, making room for the two of them to join you once again after their little scuffle. A reunion too cute to not try and remember forever. And just like that, conversation begins to flow easily between the three of you. Almost as if Jimin never left in the first place.

The two of them spend all afternoon catching up– Jimin reciting the story of how you two met, Jungkook opening up about the cute human that’s started to come by the park every saturday. Pulling his antennae down as he speaks, clearly embarrassed. Telling you all about how they met, about the reserve.

“Ah~ don’t mind him. Kookie’s just embarrassed cause he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Jimin teases, leaning over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. His arm tightly wrapped around your frame, holding you close. “Not every day that an ant hybrid has a mate outside of their colony, you know?”

“Hyung! Shut up!” He quickly whines, eyes shooting a subtle glare towards the other. Legs kicking slightly underneath his frame. “You… know what it means… especially cause she’s human…”

“I know.” His fangs shimmer as his hand reaches out to ruffle his hair, “Don’t worry. She’ll wanna be your queen in no time.”

You nod your head in agreement, picking up another piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. Nothing much to add to the conversation– you’ll never really understand the intricacy of hybrids and how they work. Especially those like Jungkook and Jimin.

Yet, you can’t help but feel at peace with that. At peace with them and this moment. Content with your life, content with your mate and the life you’ve built together. You hope that Jungkook can do the same with his own someday. Build a nice little colony or whatever it is that ants do.

“Mhmm, anyone would want someone as cute as you.” You smile, watching as the ant’s eyes go wide. Blush covering his cheek as he tries to pull his antenna down to cover them. Jimin instantly pounces on the other, starting a new round of play fighting. Laughing about having to defend his mates honour. That she isn’t allowed to look at any other hybrid. No one but him.

You giggle along with them, leaning back from your spot. Taking a mental picture of the scene in front of you. Jimin happy, playing. The sunset over the horizon as the three of you laugh in the woods. As Jimin no longer looks anything like that spider all those months ago.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe you did fall into his trap lined with silk. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even when you wake up in the middle of the woods. When you wake up in a cabin decorated in pretty webbing. When you come to find society is far behind you. When you discover no one else other than Jimin telling you that this is exactly what you asked for.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)

[dcxdpdabbles]

For Angel Brat, could we have some more focus on Bruce and Danny? Maybe Dick and Danny as well?

Bruce looks over to where Danny and Dick are each filling up their frozen yogurt cups. Dick's, is a vanilla and chocolate mix topped with various candies.

It seemed he had taken the open bar toppings as a personal challenge to drop a scoop of everything laid out into his container. Honestly, Bruce sometimes wondered if all of Dick's spontaneous flips were just a means to stay in shape, so he could keep eating the way he did.

Danny, on the other hand, had chocolate topped with only peanuts. His blue eyes- the only difference between him and Damian physically wise- kept wandering over longingly to offered sweeties but he was on a strict diet for his health.

Bruce can't believe that for all they have been searching for ways to keep Danny; they had neglected developing research for his illnesses. It felt a bitter taste in his mouth that they still could not find a cure for his boy.

Bruce Wayne was able to travel through time but make sure his son could run long periods without his heart or his lungs breaking down? Turns out he truly is just a mortal, and that was one of the worst things to realize when his son confidently bragged about being able to do two entire laps of their yard without nearly passing out.

He mentally did some calculations before stepping closer and touching Danny's shoulder. "I think you can have some chocolate chips."

His boy's face brightened in joy before he rushed to the counter, scooping the chocolate goods into his yogurt. It's another thing he noticed about Danny.

Unlike Damian, his youngest didn't bother hiding his emotions. He wore them like a badge of honor, letting them bleed across his face as quickly as he allowed sunlight to rest on them.

Bruce isn't sure if this is due to their different personalities- like the night and day of those two- or if it was because Danny had gotten out of the League when he did. Damian had broken him out to prevent him from being killed for his execution, but Bruce could not figure out where Danny had grown up.

His son's phrases and slight accent indicated midwestern. Bruce had no idea where, and every time he tried searching for him, the only thing that popped up was the already small rumors. Was this an effect of the timeline resetting? But why were there some posts and data on him left behind if it was?

It gave Bruce a headache; even Wally had no idea what was causing it. Wally, having been trapped in the Speed Force for so long, was the expert on it. Bruce shuddered to think of the alternatives if he couldn't figure out what was happening.

Bart had assured everyone that Danny was officially an anchor to their timeline, but if Wally's grim warnings that time was slowly erasing him- thus the lack of proof of childhood- then nothing they could do would save their son.

The worst part was not knowing if he would even be able to properly mourn him. Would Daniel Wayne vanish one day if no one remembered he was supposed to be there?

"Dick, I'm taking a pottery class. I'm going to make you something for your desk." Danny says, snapping Bruce out of his dark thoughts. Then he realizes he was moving on auto-polite, and the cashier was handing back his change.

He takes it with an empty smile turning to his children as Dick beams down at the youngest. "I can't wait to see it, Danny! I bet it will be the best one in class."

"I'll be the only one in the class," Danny tells him sheepishly, but a hint of sadness leaks into his voice. "I'm too sick to go to the center. Dad hired me a private teacher to come to the manor instead."

Bruce's heart squeezes painfully, and one quick glance at Dick's face lets him know his son feels the same way. Of course, nothing sows on his eldest face, but Bruce has known Dick for so long he can tell by the slight tightening around his eyes and the way the pain is tucked in his eyes.

Before he can think better of it, Bruce hears himself say, "I've always been interested in pottery. I'll see if the instructor wouldn't mind a second student."

"Really?" Danny's eyes are practically shining , which prompts Bruce to smile and shrug a shoulder.

"Yes, in fact I'm sure all of your siblings would love to take a class or two. Why don't you send a message in the group chat to see if they like to sign up?" He makes a motion that has Dick pulling out his phone to send in a different group titled "Keep our Angel."

His phone dings just a few seconds before Danny's, which the more petite boy takes as his own message coming through. Bruce never the less checks it anyway, swiping over to Dick's to read what he wrote

Dick: You are all taking a pottery class this Saturday. No excuse. Danny wants us there. I will hurt you if you miss.

His lack of emojis is bone-chilling. Bruce highly doubts any of his children will miss the event. And just as he predicted, Danny's smile grows wider when more dings can be heard coming from his phone.

"Everyone can make it!" He cheers, scrolling through the messages, looking like the world had just been promised to him. "This is going to be so much fun! Do you think the teacher won't mind?"

"I'm sure she will be happy for the raise." And if she wasn't, Bruce would quickly find someone who would. Money, to him, was never an issue.

Danny grins so brightly that Bruce wonders if he should invest in some sunglasses, but his heart does soar. Even if Dick has to reach out to adjust Danny's heart pump wires after they get stuck on the chair.

Effortlessly, Dick moves the attention away from the machine with a simple question. "Besides my gift, what else are you hoping to make Danny?"

"I'm going to make a vase for Bernard. Damian will help me buy him flowers and ask him out." Danny's words are accompanied by a brilliant blush, but he seems almost proud of his newfound courage to ask a boy three years his senior.

Did Bruce just get shot? He feels like he's been shot.

Dick's little spoon crumbles in his hold as his very famous and dangerous rage bleeds into his blue eyes. "Wow. That's so brave of you. By the way, where does Bernard live again?"

Bruce will have to postpone his deep dive into finding out where Danny was raised because if he takes his attention off of Dick for even a second, his eldest will kill that boy.

[wonjns]

a dip — l.cy

⌗ pairing. . . anton lee x male reader

⌗ genre. . . smut

⌗ summary. . . you went with your fuck buddy to the pool… that was your first mistake.

⌗ includes. . . sub!reader, fwb!swimmer!anton, semi-public sex (pls don't esp not this one), unprotected sex (also don't),

⌗ wc. 2.5k

°A/N. . . sorta requested but also not really,, also not proofread nor very pretty or as descriptive as i like to be im so sorry this is just what you get when im horny bc these pictures ruined my life

you knew much better than to agree to joining anton lee at the pool of all places.

being a lifetime friend (occasionally with benefits) of his, you knew the swimmer could spend hours upon hours at the pool and not feel an ounce of exhaustion. he'd often convince you to stay long after you finished swimming yourself, just to wait for him to complete his cool down routine before driving you home.

the worst thing of all, though, was that you were constantly reminded just how much he had hidden underneath those oversized sweaters and jeans that he always wore. behind that whole shy boy aesthetic he had going on, was the physique of what you could only compare to a greek god, and even he knew it.

you never got used to it - seeing anton's chiseled body exposed in the aquatic habitat that felt like a second home to him. no matter how sweet his smile or how loud his laugh, nothing could distract you from drooling over a body like that cutting through the water with such ease. it was even worse because the sweet boy knew exactly what he did to you.

he tried to cut you some slack, though, respecting your effort to seem unbothered every time he'd peel his layers of clothing off before jumping into the pool, wearing nothing but his tight blue swim trunks that suffocated his muscular thighs.

one time he even pretended not to notice how you were so worked up that you had to go not-so-subtly get yourself off in the community bathroom.

in your defense, it was a heated indoor pool, and at the time he had completely annihilated you in a race. that proud smirk paired with the steam rising from his rippling back muscles had you biting back moans from the sight alone.

so naturally, it was to no one's surprise once things turned physical between you both.

the adrenaline that swimming gave anton put him on cloud nine, and being the stubborn ass that you were, you were determined to somehow beat this pro swimmer in a race - only for it to end with you losing miserably and somehow hornier than when you started. things would always end one way or another, a taunting comment directed at you leading to his bare back pressed against the cool tile walls of the changing room while you yanked his shorts low enough to take his throbbing cock into your mouth.

but today you were going to be good.

you hadn't hooked up with anton for a while, and were truly only tagging along because he needed a friend to time his laps for the upcoming season.

however, it'd be a lie to say you didn't have to give yourself a prep talk as you set your things down on the pool chairs, noticing nobody was there tonight. it was business as usual, though. anton always convinced the coach to let him have later access while the rest of the team went home so he could focus. you just found it harder to control yourself around him when left alone like this, but tonight you had a new type of dedication to simply swim, help your friend, and go home.

besides, why would it be so difficult for you to keep it in your pants for just one night?

‘oh, thats why.’ you groaned internally as you watched anton strip his shirt from over his head.

fuck, had he been bulking up?

you pretend not to notice how his biceps flex as he runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair while you stripped down to your swim trunks as well. god, his skin was practically glowing even from the dingy indoor lighting.

your head whipped around back towards his direction when you heard a low hiss, watching his face scrunch slightly as he stepped down the pool's ladder. your dick twitched a bit at the sight of his furrowing brows and low groan as he sunk deeper into the water, but you mentally slapped yourself back to reality.

"what's with you?" you questioned approaching the steps, getting ready to enter as well.

"i forgot to remind coach to turn the heaters on tonight," he responded. "shit, its freezing."

you thought he was being dramatic, but the chilly water indeed bit back when you lowered your ankles in. you decided against submerging for now, simply swirling your legs in circles while you spun anton's stopwatch in your hand.

anton began a quick warm up, stretching and dunking himself under water several times and adjusting quickly to the temperature. his wet hair splaying out around his face made him even more gorgeous than he already was, and you felt your cheeks gain a sickening warmth.

"alright bro, let's get started." you cleared your throat, speaking up to hurry the process along before your resolve crumbled.

"sure, bro." he mocked before sending a wink your way. shit, he was already on to you.

anton held eye contact with you as he hoisted himself out of the water to walk over to the swim lanes, causing your breath to silently falter. your instincts made you the first to break contact though, as your eyes followed the droplets that slid down his broad chest. they each trailed down past his perked nipples, over his abs that you could never steal long enough glances at, and eventually disappear into his waistband before leading to — that.

to say the least, anton was generously endowed when it came to the size in the south. the ‘quiet man with a fat cock’ stereotype was only proven true with him, if the way you struggled to fit all of him in your mouth was anything to go by.

anytime anton wore those small trunks or, god forbid, the uniform speedo during his meets - it was impossible to tear your eyes away from how the soaking cloth material clung around his massive length when he emerged from the water.

and boy was he massive. that was a fact you could never forget but somehow still surprised you each time to this day.

you were such a pervert. and he loved it so much.

only 30 minutes into his laps you found yourself desperately missing the shy boy act that he would put on for every body else. once he was in athlete mode, the confidence in his demeanor made your self control fly out the window. it didn't make sense how someone as massive as him could practically fly through the water, flexing every inch of his muscle like it was nothing.

it forced you to reminisce on how he was in bed, constantly taking you with his immense stamina. he could toss and turn you in any way at any given pace, making you see stars like it was nothing — even when you were the one to start things, he made sure to finish them. you remembered the way his biceps would tighten and ripple in your grasp, holding on for dear life as you begged for him to thrust into you harder or squeeze you tighter. you missed the sore feeling those big hands of his would leave on your hips and thighs.

get it together, y/n.

if you had a dollar for every time you had to yank yourself out of the gutter in just the span of one hour, you'd be rich enough to drop out of school entirely.

you had allowed yourself to sit calf-deep in the water at the end of the racing lane, but it wasn't until he reached you after knocking out 3 laps in a row that you regretted your decision. he emerged from the water with a big splash, throwing his head back and letting out the most erotic sigh you could imagine as he finally let air reach his lungs.

a lump formed in your throat, watching anton's buff chest rise and fall in tune with his breaths while both long arms gripped the edge of the pool on either side of your legs.

"what was my time for those?" the swimmer finally asked you once he had stabilized his breathing.

"oh! right, uhm...." you snap out of your trance, gut dropping when you looked down to the stop watching still ticking in your hand.

"you forgot to stop it, didn't you?" anton asked, a tone of more amusement rather than annoyance seeping through his smirk. "don't tell me you got distracted?"

"fuck, i'm sorry." you groaned, annoyed with your own sexual frustration overtaking your ability to play it cool.

"it's fine." anton shrugged, pulling his body out of the water and plopping on to the ledge next you, making you flinch as copious amounts of water splashed around the concrete. "just let me fuck you."

your eyes widened, damn near choking on the breath you gasped in. when you looked up to see his mischievous eyes, you swore you felt him leaning closer.

"what the fuck, ton?" you exhaled, slightly punching his arm, savoring the split second of contact you made with his warm skin.

"god, its been like a month, y/n. i can't focus on conditioning and you can't even click a button for me, clearly." anton chuckled. "lets just do it so i can have a good season. you know you’re my charm.” he teased, gently nudging you back with his elbow.

you couldn't believe the causality he was saying all of this with. but he did always call you his good luck charm, somehow managing to break his own personal record anytime you'd let him hit the night before or suck you off right before a meet, swallowing your cum like it was his own lewd type of protein shake.

it would also be a lie to an insane degree to say you didn't miss the way his soft skin felt gliding along yours whenever he would grind into you, his huge hands giving you a sense of stability in the way he would hold you down.

anton could tell from the way you were shamelessly biting your lip that you were thinking about it. he took the initiative to push your shoulders down until your back was flat against the concrete.

he had barely let you utter out a desperate "okay" before he was rolling over on top of you, not hesitating for a second to drop his hips directly over yours so you could feel how hard his thick bulge had already gotten. you moaned aloud, hips immediately bucking up to meet his as he lowered his head to your neck, feathering wet kisses along your column.

the water dripping from his body was cold, but the warmth of his torso easily overcame it all when you needily reached out to pull the entirety of his weight onto you. you didn't realize how much you missed the rippling of his shoulder blades beneath your palms until you felt his body rolling in perfect tune with yours. you ran your shaky hands all over his chiseled back as you felt his hardened nipples brush against yours, and while you hopelessly wanted more you also didn't want this feeling to end.

you felt a little pitiful, just sitting there allowing yourself to moan in pure bliss as your wet bodies press into each other, gripping anton's wide shoulders as his kisses picked up in heat. he was sucking hickeys into the sweet spot of your neck while his swim trunks tightened more and more as he humped against you, making you dizzier by the second.

"you sound so fucking hot whimpering for me like that." he moaned, licking a long trail up your neck to your jaw.

you didn't have any time to respond before he was pulling you into a searing kiss, his plump lips sloppily devouring yours while groaning into your mouth. you remembered how much you loved the way he tasted, and silently cursed at yourself for going this long without him.

when your lungs began needing air, you broke apart to moan out his name, just for him to grab your jaw and bring you back in for an even more overwhelming kiss. he was taking over every sense you had, filling your entire consciousness with nothing but thoughts of him. your hips bucked up incessantly, your body begging for him since your mouth couldn’t.

the hard concrete beneath you was starting to cause your limbs to ache as anton's mass pressed deeper into you, and he seemed to have read your mind, because before you knew it he was lifting himself up and dragging you into the water.

your mind was much too hazy to even register the vast difference in temperature, especially when you were clinging to anton like you needed him to breathe. it was as if something had taken over you and put you in the passenger seat of your own movements - all you could feel yourself doing was mumbling endless pleas for him to fuck you before pulling him in to reconnect your lips.

you could feel anton's shit eating grin against your lips as he backed you up against the ledge, slightly lifting his leg against the pool wall in order to guide you grinding your clothed cock against his thigh. he took advantage of your loud moan to suck on your tongue, loving the way your fingers curled into his wet hair.

there was only so much you could handle before you were reaching below the water to pull your own swim trunks off, deciding that if anton didn't fuck you right then you might actually explode. anton helped you discard the shorts and send them flying somewhere atop of the water. the second you were free, you felt your cock on his abs, causing your hips to take action and grind against the muscle before you could even think about what you were doing.

some combined variant of a choked laugh and moan left anton’s throat as he watched you throw your head back, obsessed with the way you were using his body to chase the pleasure you craved. he decided that he had his fun, slipping free from his trunks as well and lining himself up against you.

"deep breaths, baby." anton whispered, trying to sound confident but the words coming out as a tremble. you would normally laugh at how it almost sounded like he were advising himself, but you were too far gone.

when he finally bottomed out in you, his size and the pressure of the water had your mind in a different realm. you clung to anton's round shoulders as he held you securely, giving you time to adjust after not having him in you for a month.

"this little ass still so tight and ready for me, i knew you missed me." he sighed out, giving you small experimenting rolls of his hips.

when you gripped him tighter and started fucking yourself on his cock, he knew he was in the clear to send you to oblivion, and thats exactly what he did.

between the desperation in anton’s thrusting and the feeling of your member rubbing along his built torso, it didn't take much for either of you to approach your highs rapidly. you were soon announcing them to each other while you clung your slippery bodies tight together, the once still water around you turning into nothing less of a tsunami.

"'m cumming, ton." you cried out, just for him to groan deeply in agreement.

he held the back of your neck, pushing your head down to make eye contact with him as you both reached your climaxes at the same time, an oddly intimate feeling settling over you in the moment and making your skin buzz.

panting against each other's faces, anton leaned in to claim your lips once more before you were both giggling like a couple of fools, padding your hands around the water as you brought yourselves down to earth.

it took a couple of moments for you to gasp horrendously at the realization of what you both just did, looking to anton with so much terror etched in your eyebrows that he couldn't help but laugh.

"did we just- the school's pool- we-" you sputtered aimlessly, only stopping once anton's hand emerged from the water to cover your mouth.

"don't worry about it, coach will handle it. he won't mind, because after that i'm about to bring this school three new medals."

© 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐧𝐬 — all rights reserved

[moonstruckme]

Pookie! I need you to write me something pretty please :)

Can you write Remus comforting a reader with an anxiety disorder when someone told them "there's nothing to be anxious about. You just want attention" ??? Pretty please?? Love you pookieeeeeee

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mean girl stuff, social anxiety

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 929 words

“Shh.” Remus holds you close to his chest, his hand moving up and down your arm now that your crying has slowed. “It’s okay. It’s just us, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you echo, croakily. You’re glad you can’t see your boyfriend’s face, for fear you’d die of embarrassment otherwise. The looming insecurity of your day stands over you like a grim reaper. 

You arrived home from a friend’s birthday dinner to find Remus sitting on the couch, already marking the page of his book as he turned to you with a soft smile. 

“Hi, sweetheart. How was it?” 

You replied, through a laugh that turned into a sob halfway through, “Not great.” 

The dinner had been an event of foreboding for you since your invite. You’d been determined to be a good friend by not bailing, but actually going had confirmed your worst fears; it was loud, crowded, filled with people you didn’t know and didn’t fit with. Your outfit wasn’t right, the menu was daunting, and conversation swirled all around you about things you weren’t a part of. The fallout was basically inevitable. 

You perhaps waited too long to excuse yourself. You were sweating buckets and breathing around a lump by the time you did, whispering an explanation to your friend before locking yourself into a bathroom stall to talk yourself down. You’re sure she didn’t mean anything by telling the people sitting closest to her why you were gone—you don’t think she’d do it to gossip, and she’s never talked down to you about that sort of thing, at least not to your face—but by the time you returned one of her friends—a stranger to you, who’s name you can’t even remember—had formulated a fairly decisive opinion and dubbed you an attention seeker. 

You stayed only a little longer after that. Just long enough to avoid attracting more attention. And you worked yourself up well enough on the way home that all it took was one innocent question from Remus to send you crumpling into his arms. 

You’ve tried to steel yourself more than once, but any attempts at stoicism have been foiled by your boyfriend’s tender looks and whispered placations, which only make you cry harder. If you’re an attention seeker, Remus is your holy grail. Self loathing sits lodged in your throat like a stone. 

“Whose friend was it, again?” Remus asks, stroking your arm gently. 

You take a breath, trying to steady your voice. “Does it matter?” 

“I don’t mean it’s your friend’s fault, sweetheart,” Remus says. He’s all softness and patience, better than you could ever deserve. “I just thought you might talk to her, if you want to. She ought to know her friend is going around saying cruel things.” 

“She was there.” Your throat tightens at the memory. 

“Oh. Then I don’t suppose you need to say anything; I’m sure she’s already very upset for you.” 

You try to laugh, frustrated with yourself when it only seems to spur another wave of tears. “Rem. You’re biased.” 

“What?” Remus sounds genuinely surprised. “You don’t think she’s angry with that other girl?”

“She’s her friend.” 

“So are you.” His arms tighten around you protectively, chin bumping your head. “I may be biased, but the other girl was clearly in the wrong. There’s no excuse for the way she acted.” 

A dozen rebuttals fly about your head, but you keep your mouth shut. You don’t have the energy to argue. Unfortunately, Remus hears your argument in the silence anyway. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “no one puts themselves through what you do for attention. You don’t choose to feel that way.”

You hunch your back, tucking your head underneath his chin. “I do get attention for it, though.” 

“That doesn’t mean you want it.” 

“But I—”

“Do you want it?” You can’t see Remus, but you hear the hardened edge to his tone. “Did you like it, when that girl called attention to you in the middle of the dinner?” 

Your voice smalls. “No.” 

“Right.” The gentleness returns. Remus puts his lips to your head. “I know you didn’t, dovey. So don’t torment yourself, please. She doesn’t know anything about you.” 

You push your lips together. He lets you chew on your next words for a while, his thumb swiping softly back and forth over your upper arm, the sleeve of your top shifting slightly with the motion. 

“What if…” You gnaw the inside of your cheek. Remus waits. “What if everyone thinks that?” 

“Mm. Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think most people would. Surely not anyone who knows you, or anyone worth being around.” He takes a breath, thinking. “You can’t always control what people think. I know you say I’m biased, but anyone who thinks something like that really isn’t worth thinking about at all. You’ve got enough going through that head of yours, yeah?” He kisses your hair fondly. 

“I guess so,” you admit. 

“Yeah,” Remus decides. He pulls away to see your face, pushing hair away from your tacky cheeks. “I’d say so.” 

You wonder if you look as horrendously in love as you feel. You think you must, because your boyfriend’s expression softens impossibly further as he turns his head to give you a proper kiss. You feel raw but comforted, and suddenly, totally exhausted. 

“Let the bullies worry about themselves.” Remus gives you a tender look. “I’ll worry about you.” 

You let a small smile tilt your lips. “And what am I left to worry about?” 

“Nothing,” he says solemnly. “Think you can manage that?” 

“Nope.” 

“Mm. Well, try.” 

[jobean12-blog]

The Best Worst Day Ever

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: You're having a shit day but then you see a dog and things start looking up...

Author's Note: We love a soft and sweet Bucky and dogs and bookstores and cookies and kisses- so here we are! Hope you enjoy, thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️The two bookstores I mention can be found here (Spoonbill and Sugartown) and here (Albertine Books). Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: a cute dog, Bucky saves the day (a few times), cookies, soft fluff, building tension, books

“You will not believe the day I had.”

You practically sigh the words into the phone, feeling at least slightly better at the sound of your best friends voice.

“Tell me everything,” she says.

You start to recap your shitty day but a large fluff of black fur across the street catches your eye.

“Oh my god…,” you start, completely derailing your previous thought. “There is this giant black dog across the street. I have to go pet it.”

Your best friend laughs, “of course you do,” and you can feel yourself start to form a real smile for the first time today.

“I’ll call you back,” you tell her.

“You got it,” she answers, not even questioning your behavior.

You start to cross the street, giving a quick glance in both directions before breaking into a jog. You’re just about to call out to the old man to ask if his dog is friendly, when you hear the screech of tires.

Your heart drops and your body instinctively reacts but all you feel is the whoosh of air that whips past you and a set of strong arms wrapped around your waist.

For a few long seconds you simply breathe, clinging to the solid warmth of whatever is holding you up.

“Are you ok doll?”

The voice is soft but deep and you look towards it, blinking against the bright sun, wondering for a moment if the car hit you and you’re dead and in fact, now in heaven.

Your fingers dig into soft leather as you stare at one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

“Am I dead?”

Bright blue eyes peer down at you, the corners lightly crinkling at your question. His gaze wanders over your face, his expression seeming to waver between awe and concern.

“No, I’ve got you. But are you ok?”

His words draw your attention to his mouth. Blinking again and trying to clear your head you finally manage to answer him.

“I…I don’t think so…I just wanted to pet the dog.”

His perfect lips curl up into a teasing smile and you have to drag your eyes away to focus on his blue ones. But the fact that you’re pressed against his solid chest and encased in the warmth of his arms does nothing to help your concentration.

With a slight tremble you start to sit up, but he doesn’t release you from his hold. He just moves with you and helps you to stand.

Once he feels you’re steady enough on your feet he removes his hands but stays close, clearly not convinced you’re fine.

You let out a shaky exhale and smooth your hands over yourself.

“That was so scary.”

You can feel the warmth of tears spring to your eyes and your vision starts to blur. He reaches out a gentle hand and places it on your arm.

“I’m sure it was. And while we could stay here I think it would be best to get out of the middle of the street. Why don’t we go sit?”  

He points to the bench on the sidewalk where the old man with the dog stands and watches.

As you approach the old man asks, “it’s a good thing this young man was here to save you. I could never move that fast.”

You glance at the “young man,” and he extends the hand that doesn’t have a secure hold on your arm to greet you.

“Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

“Thank you Bucky,” you say and then give him your name.

“Is she ok?” the old man asks Bucky.

“I think she’s gonna be fine,” Bucky says with a reassuring smile.

Bucky helps you onto the bench and as the dog moves closer, tail wagging, you blurt out in a rush, “can I please pet your dog?”

“Sure,” the old man says. “She’s very friendly.”

“What’s her name?” Bucky asks, as he kneels down to put his hand out for the dog to smell.

“Luna,” the old man replies, sitting down next to you on the bench.

You reach for Luna, letting her smell you before scratching her ears and leaning down to press your face into her soft fur.

Your focus stays on the dog until your heartbeat returns to normal, the conversation between Bucky and the old man lingering quietly in the background.

After a few more steadying breaths you thank the old man and Bucky helps him to stand, watching as he takes slow and small steps away from you, Luna in tow but still looking back at you.

Bucky stands and offers you his hand; strong and slightly clammy, and sparks fly, a curious look flitting across his stunning face as you both react to the touch. You fix your gaze on him and finally give yourself a chance to look. Your heart starts to crash against your chest all over again. You just sit there, staring.

He’s tall and the soft henley he wears beneath his leather jacket is fitted so that you can see the outline of the muscles in his chest. His eyes are the most beautiful blue, and the stubble covering his strong jaw does nothing to conceal the handsome features beneath it.

He smiles softly and for a moment you think you see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your obvious examination. He’s still holding onto your hand, and suddenly, seeming to come to his senses, he releases it and smooths his palm over his hair and then the back of his neck.

You feel a flush of heat move through you.

“You’re sure you’re ok doll?”

You nod.

“She should probably eat something.”

At the old man’s gruff voice both you and Bucky startle and turn to see him standing just a few feet away, a knowing smile on his face. Obviously, he didn’t get very far.

“He deserves a date for savin’ your life there young lady.”

With a decisive nod he dismisses you and Bucky and calls to Luna to finally continue on his way.

You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you look back up at him from your seat.

“Food?” you ask quietly.

“Let’s go,” he answers, his easy smile returning. “I know just the place.”

The butterflies stay firmly planted in the pit of your empty stomach and you stand so abruptly that you teeter forward and into his arms again. He catches you with two hands splayed at your waist and the urge to bury your heated face against his chest is overwhelming.

“I’m really having a day,” you mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I’m just happy I’m here to help.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

He falls into an easy stride beside you and a huff of laughter falls from your lips before you say, “I can’t believe I almost died trying to pet a dog.”

“I get it,” Bucky says, throwing you a wink.

You’re careful with your footing, still somewhat shaky from the whole ordeal but when your attention turns back to Bucky, his eyes trailing across your face, seeming to linger on your mouth before lifting to your eyes, you stumble, your foot catching a crack in the sidewalk.

He grabs your bicep to steady you, and you groan. “Shit, you must think I’m hopeless.”

“That person’s driving skills having nothing to do with you,” he assures you as he gently leads you toward the restaurant. “And everyone likes to pet dogs…or at least they should.”

His voice is gentle, and you avoid his gaze, his hand still curled securely around your arm as you come to stop outside the restaurant.

He only let’s go to open the door and usher you in with a soft press of his hand to your lower back.

The flutter of butterflies that you keep trying to ignore are back in full force and when Bucky stops at a table and pulls out the chair for you the gesture has you feeling faint.

You must be starved.

With a monumental effort to relax you sit back in the chair and cross your legs. His gaze automatically flickers downward and be visibly swallows before quickly looking away.

There’s a definite blush on the tops of his cheeks now.

“The pizza here is really good.” His voice sounds extra rumbly, maybe even a little hoarse.

You pick up a menu and start to fan yourself without even thinking. “I’m sure it is.”

“Do you live close by?” you ask him.

“Just a few blocks away. I’m here all the time.”

Before you can ask any more questions, an older woman appears beside your table with a beaming smile.

“Barnes has finally showed up with a girl!” she sings. “And a beauty at that.”

You hide your giggle behind the menu and peer at Bucky.

“This is Millie,” he says, his smile wide. “She owns the place and loves to bust my chops.”

You introduce yourself, delighted and Millie’s warmth.

“Are you having the usual?” Millie asks Bucky.

He nods and looks to you.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” you tell Millie.

“I like her already,” Millie says before rushing back off to the kitchen.

Bucky sits forward, his arms crossed in front of him and now that he’s taken off his leather jacket there is more of him to admire.

His blue eyes are focused entirely on you, and you try not to blurt out your thoughts about how nice his biceps looked in his shirt so instead you clamp your mouth shut and look around the cozy space.

You fall into easy conversation and when the food comes the silence is comfortable while you eagerly eat it, not realizing how hungry you really are.

After your stomach is full, Bucky pays the bill, even after you offered several times, pleading with him that you owed him at least that after saving your life.

He waves you off and hands Millie the cash then holds his hand out for yours.

At the feel of his skin tension immediately springs between you, and you scramble to think of something to say.

He beats you to it.

“What are your plans for the weekend?”

Grateful for the distraction, you reply, “well, I usually spend my Saturday afternoons at this little bookshop in my neighborhood.”

“Is it Spoonbill and Sugartown?”

Your eyes widen and light up.

“YES! You know it?”

“I do. I used to go all the time. Haven’t been in a while though. I love the smell of the old books.”

A rush of attraction sweeps over you like a wave and your hand squeezes his.

“You could meet me there tomorrow? If you’re not busy?”

“Yeah. I’d love that,” he says, grabbing the door and holding it open so you can exit the restaurant.

“Which way are you?” he asks, still holding your hand.

You point right toward Bedford Avenue.

“Come on, I’ll walk ya home doll.”

“Is it out of your way? I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

He chuckles before leaning down to press a quick, surprising kiss to your cheek.

“Nah, it’s not and I really don’t mind.”

You are in love.

Inside the old bookstore, with its vaulted ceilings and shafts of light pouring through the skylights, you stare at the rows and rows of bookshelves.

Through the aisles there is something to catch the eye at every turn. Not just books, but interesting and antique Tiffany lamps and various knick knacks that make you smile. Reading areas are set up in breaks between the shelves, tables with chairs so people can lounge, read, and drink their coffee and eat their desserts.

You let out a contented sigh. On purpose, you arrived a bit early, hoping the familiarity and comfort of the store would calm the persistent butterflies that have taken up a permanent residence in your stomach since your literal run in with Bucky.

As you’re falling deeper under the spell of the leather lined bindings and dusty-smelling pages a soft voice calls your name.

You look up and see Bucky standing at the end of the aisle. He’s dressed casually but different from yesterday, his dark jeans fitted to his muscular thighs and his black tee shirt showing off those perfect arms and chest.

He steps closer and greets you with another kiss to your cheek, this time, closer to the corner of your mouth.

You close your eyes briefly, inhaling his scent and steadying yourself on your feet. Before you can actually swoon to the floor you tell him about the expansion they recently built in the back with a rush of enthusiastic words.

Taking his hand, you lead him to the new section, practically running.

Laughing at your overexcitement, he squeezes your hand.

“You’re very cute.”

When you turn to look at him, something in his eyes makes your skin heat and you have to look away again, but not before you give him a thankful smile.

You expect him to let go of your hand once you reach the back, but he doesn’t.

“Have you ever been to Albertine Books?” he asks.

You stop and think.

“No, I don’t think I’ve even heard of it.”

“It’s easy to miss,” he explains. “It’s inside the French Embassy and has mostly French language books and translations from French into English, but it’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” you say with uninhibited joy. “Will you take me there sometime?”

You’re too busy deciding which part of the expanded bookstore you want to show him first to see his expression, but you hear the affection in his tone when he replies, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, doll.”

Your heart flutters.

Your hand gets clammy, and you gently pull it away, trying to use the shelves and the books lining them to refocus yourself.

He stays with you, content to watch you peruse the bindings, moving from bookshelf to bookshelf.

The book titles quickly become a blur as your awareness zeroes in on one thing, one person.

Bucky.

You feel the warmth of his presence, hovering at your back, and feel the heat of his gaze on your face. The skin on your cheek tingles and you can still feel the press of his lips.

Your breathing grows shallower as his fingertips brush against the small of your back, a gentle touch, but searing through your clothes.

Busy frantically pondering how to navigate the chemistry you share; you don’t realize the book you halt in front of until it’s too late.

A romance novel with a couple in a sexy position on the cover.

Just perfect.

His fingertips press deeper against your lower back, and then you feel the whisper of his lips on your ear as he comments, “interesting choice.”

You make the mistake of turning your head toward his and find his nose just inches from yours.

Your eyes lock for a second before his gazes drops to your mouth. Your body sways slightly toward his, and he takes the movement as an invitation, his head dipping those last few inches.

“Excuse me.”

A voice, loud and close, jolts you away from Bucky, whose mouth had just been millimeters from touching yours.

“I just…want that book.” An arm reaches between you and Bucky, and dazed, you look over to see a woman. She seems unfazed by the fact that she clearly interrupted a moment, and you grab the book for her.

She gives you a thin lipped smiled and darts away.

After a second or two of staring after her, you finally draw up the courage to meet Bucky’s eyes.

His cheeks are pink again and he’s rubbing his palm on his jeans.

Looking over his shoulder you spot the coffee and dessert counter.

“Ooh!” you say, hurrying towards it. “Let’s get a cookie!”

Bucky follows and you turn to him, smiling through the awkwardness.

“You have to try the double chocolate chip.”

He bends down to peer into the display case. Your eyes meet, and just like that you’re too close for your body to handle. You swallow hard.

“It’s delicious. And the chunks of chocolate are gooey.”

His eyes are trained on your mouth as he murmurs, “maybe we should get two.”

“Good idea. I can eat a whole one easily on my own. We might even need three.”

You sound breathless.

“Hm.” He’s not even listening to your words at this point. His focus is on your lips, his eyes are hooded, and he is definitely going to attempt to kiss you again.

“What can I get for you?” the worker behind the counter asks, smiling brightly when the two of you jerk your heads up.

“Four double chocolate chip cookies,” Bucky blurts out, then follows with a soft, “please and thanks.”

Once you have your cookies in your hand you head to one of the back tables and sit, stuffing nearly the whole cookie in your mouth.

It’s so good that for a moment you forget yourself and moan around the bite.

Bucky clears his throat, and you lock eyes. His reaches across the table, his strong fingertips gripping your chin, and he bends his head toward yours. He halts when he’s close enough that you can see the patches of gray in his beard and feel his warm breath fan your cheek.

With the softest brush of his calloused thumb, he wipes away some chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Had a little chocolate smudge right there,” he whispers.

You slowly nod and your tongue darts out to lick your lips. His eyes track the movement, and he releases you, biting into half of his own cookie.

“These really are amazing,” he says around the mouthful.

You nod again, too flustered for words.

The two of you eat all four cookies and despite wanting to distract yourself with more you leave the bookstore and let him walk you home once again.

When you stop outside your building you fiddle with your hands and look anywhere but at him.

“I had the best time,” he says, drawing your attention.

“Me too,” you say quietly.

“When can I take you to Albertine Books?” he asks, as he takes a tentative step closer.

“Tomorrow?”

It’s a hopeful question. One you couldn’t stop yourself from asking even if you wanted to.

“I’d love that doll.”

A deep tug low in your belly makes you bite your lip. You love the use of that endearment and after spending most of the afternoon so close to him you’re nearly at your wits end.

His gaze fixes on yours and his jaw tightens at whatever he sees in your expression then he closes the distance and slides his arms around you, his hands coasting slowly up your back.

He lifts a hand to your cheek, sweeping his thumb across your soft skin and splaying his hand to draw you closer.

“If someone interrupts us this time…” he says, tone full of warning but still teasing.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even notice if there was a dog nearby for me to pet,” you say with a smile.

He laughs and bumps your nose with his.

“Not even a dog huh?”                                                                                   

You shake your head, and your eyes start to close as your hands grasp the front of his shirt. You feel the heat of his breath first, the warning before his lips touch yours. And when they do, it’s barely a brush, a hot, glancing touch.

Your fingers close more tightly around the fabric of his shirt, silently urging him to really kiss you. You’re desperate for it.

Another whisper of a of kiss, then a slightly deeper press, a nibble on your lower lip. A whimper escapes you.

It shatters whatever restraint he’s grounded himself with and his hand splayed at your back hauls you against his body as his mouth presses to yours.

You open your mouth to let him in, and his groan of satisfaction rumbles through you. The tickle of his scruffy jaw is rough in the just the way you’d hoped it would be and when you feel the slide of his hands down your back, the smooth strength of him under your touch, you completely melt into the kiss and the rest of the world fades away.

[beejunos]

UNKNOWN TO ME AND YOU | Alastor x reader

Summary: As Alastor's shadow starts to act strangely, hidden feelings are brought to light.

This wonderful story was written from @lustylita's wonderful idea! The story is completely theirs; I just had the pleasure of putting it into words. Their original post can be found here.

Tags: Alastor x gn.reader, hidden feelings, angst

The last couple of weeks have been very strange to you. 

Well, stranger than the hotel usually was. 

Over the past few weeks, you have helped your best friend, Charlie, with her little passion project. The Hazbin Hotel - your only chance at redemption! 

While you couldn't say that you inherently believed in her dream, you would have been a poor friend if you hadn't tried to help her—emphasis on tried. Growing up within Hell's elite, where someone always handed you everything on gold platters, didn't foster any usable skills that could help run a severely understaffed hotel. The very thought of having to clean your own room had almost immobilised you.

Did you really need to vacuum the walls and the ceilings every week? How did the cleaning staff back at your parents' manor even do it? The manor was huge! 

Thankfully, you had not been forced to clean for long because shortly after Charlie had opened the hotel for business, an unwanted guest had come knocking at the door. Alastor and his somewhat reluctant companies, except for Niffty, who seemed to thrive in the chaos, quickly made themselves at home in the hotel. 

The same night they arrived, you and Vaggie had sat Charlie down in their room and begged the princess not to let the radio demon stay. After all, the tales of his deeds had even reached your family's manor in the Envy ring of Hell. But Charlie had been persistent, saying that maybe by staying in the hotel, she could change his ways. You loved your friend; you really did, but sometimes you wanted to shake some sense into her violently. 

There was nothing you could do about the radio demon and how he just took over many of the work duties you had at the hotel. Waltzing in as if he owned the hotel, he had taken one look at your work and deemed it unsatisfactory. 

"No, no, let me do it, doll!" he would say condescendingly, making rage lick up your spine, "We would want this to be done well for Charlie, now, wouldn't we?" 

You had lost count of all the times you fantasised about grabbing a chair and introducing it to his face. 

He made you feel incompetent, and worst of all, he was right. Most of the work you had done that he had redone was of better quality, more detailed, and better planned. If you had been a weaker demon, you would have given up, apologised to Charlie and gone home to your parents, but so, if the heavens would be your witnesses, you were going to crush that smug little bastard of a sinner! 

And so began your imaginary battle with Alastor about who could be the best executive producer. If you had asked Alastor, he would not have had any clues about what you were doing, only that it finally seemed like you were taking your job seriously. That said, he still did not like you. You were a spoiled little demon brat who had never worked a hard day in your life, and worst of all, you were sloppy with your work. 

But time kept ticking. The days passed, the hotel was filled with new residents, and somehow, you and Alastor were able to work together. Nevertheless, you only managed to do it by never being near each other, which worked wonderfully for you because the man could actually be quite okay when he was silent and on the other side of the room.  

You could have continued to live like this for as long as Alastor decided to live in the hotel. There was just this teeny tiny thing that perplexed you. 

Alastor's shadow liked to be around you. 

It had begun quite innocently with the shadow coming over to you one night when you were sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace with yesterday's newspaper in your lap since you had started to do the crossword puzzle on the back of the paper. You had been staring at the same clue for what felt like an hour, and you just couldn't figure it out. Out of nowhere, a shadowy finger had tapped on the clue to get your attention, and when you looked up, two empty holes for eyes had looked back at you with the biggest twisted grin full of teeth you had ever seen. 

"Fuck! Don't do that!" you whispered forcefully, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet that finally had fallen over the hotel lobby. "What do you want?" 

Prepared to be bothered any second now by the radio demon, you got even more confused when the shadow started doing pantomimes. Why in the seven Hells was it swimming across the wall?

You looked on as the shadow began to swim back to you, tapped on the clue and started to swim again.

"Swimming? But it has nothing to do with activities! It is something about effort," you said as the shadow returned to you. Since it could not speak, the shadow just started to nod its head and tapped on the clue again. 

"Is it a word derived from the word swimming?" you asked hesitantly as the shadow continued to nod. 

You turned back to the clue before you—a word for no effort needed and swimming.

"Swimmingly?" you asked the shadow, who gave you an even bigger sinister smile and nodded again before it disappeared up the stairs. Again, you were left in the lobby with only the crackling fire as a company, looking over at the stairs after the strange entity that was Alastor's shadow.

The next couple of weeks just grew more and more strange with every day. Out of nowhere, Alastor's shadow started to just interact with you. It began as innocent waves to you behind Alastors back, and at first, you wouldn't wave back, but when you saw how sad the shadow got if you didn't return its greeting, you started to wave back to it. On a few occasions, Alastor had caught you in the act, which quickly prompted you to swat the air around you as if you were trying to get rid of a fly.

When the waves weren't enough for the shadow, it started to appear around you, helping you in various ways. Once, it even helped you find some important paper you needed for your job that you were convinced Alastor had hidden from you. 

It turned out that Alastor's shadow was much more pleasant company than its physical part, and you often welcomed the shadow's help with your crosswords during the evenings.

However, you were again thrown for a loop when the shadowed behaviour started to change. It began to interact with you even more, seeking you out during the day and staying for long periods at a time, just hanging around you or observing what you were doing. 

One day, it had even brought you a blueberry muffin from the bakery you liked across town. You had no idea how it had even done that. For all you knew, shadows were not physical things and could not interact with the physical world. However, you were promptly proven wrong when Alastor's shadow took your own shadow's hand and pulled you down the hallway to show you the roses that had started to bloom outside of the hotel. 

It was a paradox, a mystery that intrigued you. Alastor's shadow, a creature of darkness, was surprisingly sweet, charming, and, at times, downright romantic. How could such a lovely thing be attached to such a vile being?

It had been like any other day. Alastor's shadow had found you in your office early in the morning, going through all the paperwork that needed to get done that day. In its shadowy hand, it held one blueberry muffin and your favourite coffee mug with a sleepy bear on it, along with the text Bearly Awaken written underneath. 

The coffee had been divine because, somewhere, the shadow had learned to make a cup of coffee exactly how you wanted it.

You continued with your day in the presence of Alastor's shadow, walking together down the corridor, through the lobby, and out the front door as you chatted with the shadow. You had gotten quite good at interpreting its pantomimes and overexaggerated emotions and often found yourself laughing at any antics the shadow pulled. 

It followed you all day as you walked around the city, picking up the materials Charlie needed for her next exercise with the hotel residents. The shadow even helped you pick out the colours for the ribbons and paints. 

At one point, the shadow's long finger had brushed against yours. It had been a cold sensation, almost like being touched by mist, but that had not mattered to you as you blushed before looking away. Missing how the shadow practically folded in on itself when it saw your reaction. 

Was it possible to date a shadow and not the being it was attached to? 

The sun was setting when you and Alastor's shadow got back to the hotel. The lobby was almost empty except for Husk, who was polishing martini glasses by the bar. As soon as he saw the two of you enter the hotel, Husk leapt over the bar and rushed over to you. 

"I don't know where the fuck the two of you have been, but you need to leave now before he finds out that your back," Husk whispered to you as he gripped your arm to turn you around towards the door. 

"And you!" he said towards the shadow, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"  

The shadow made a high-pitched whine as it stepped closer to you. You were about to ask Husk what he had meant when a loud voice boomed inside the hotel.

"Where are you?"

Husk's hand tightened around your arm as he started to pull you towards the door. You followed after him, paralysed by action, as a stone of fear got stuck in your throat. The shadow looked at you, then back at the stairs and then back at you again with anxious eyes. 

Loud steps could be heard from the hallway above the staircase, and Alastor's shadow began to be dragged towards the stairs as if by an invincible force. It desperately dug its claws into the ground, and the shadow let out a wailing scream as it looked at you with big, pleading eyes. 

Alastor was calling his shadow back to him. 

The shadow continued to fight the force of its master's call, leaving deep claw marks on the floor, and, as if a gunshot had been fired at the room, the force wholly let go of the shadow. The shadow rushed back to you, where it clung to your body like a second skin. 

"Get back here, you disgraceful thing!" Alastor could be heard shouting as a massive hand gripped the hallway doorframe and pulled itself forward. It was the hand of Alastor's most demonic form. 

Beside you, Husk had begun to shake as his claws dug into your skin.

"You need to run. Now!" he tried to push you towards the door, but it was too late. From around the corner, Alastor stepped from the dark into the light, but as he stepped forward, he shrank in size. Still, he looked terrifying. 

His eyes were a deep red with volume controllers as irises, hiding any emotions he may have had. His antlers had grown in size, sharp and imposing, making the sinner look almost regal as he sauntered down the stairs. 

"Thank you, Husker." he said, his voice dripping in venom, "I can take over now." 

Husk was about to protest loudly when he disappeared in a puff of red smoke, and you were left alone with the enraged sinner. 

"What do you think you are doing?" Alastor snarled as you started to shake where you were standing. A small whine could be heard beside your neck as the shadow clung closer to you.  

"I don't know..."

"I'm not talking to you!" Alastor's look silenced you but confused you for a second before you saw his eyes drop down to your neck, where the shadow hid. 

"Come back here and stop resisting," Alastor snarled again and stepped towards you. The shadow gave away a low whine as it clung closer to your body, and you realised it didn't want to return. In a fit of temporary insanity, you placed a protective hand over the arms of the shadow around you and stepped away from the sinner.

"No!"  

"What do you mean no? It's my shadow," asked Alastor as he looked back at you in confused rage.

"He doesn't want to be with you anymore," you snapped and turned your nose up. You stepped to the side to walk around the sinner, effectively walking away with his shadow, but as you walked past Alastor, his hand shot out, and he tried to grab your arm. But you were faster; with your other hand, you slept Alastors hand away from you and the shadow.

"Will you stop it! Don't you understand that we want nothing to do with you, so just leave us alone!" 

With determined steps, you started walking over to the staircase to get as far away from the deer demon as possible. However, you didn't get far until you felt the shadow clung even more to you as it let out a pitiful sob. Its head had fallen over your shoulder as it looked up at you with longing eyes—a gaze it shouldn't be giving you since you had just saved it from its cruel master.

"What's the matter?" you asked it as you tried to caress its cheek, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw something that you never thought you would see. 

Without a smile and ears hanging low against his head, Alastor looked at you with the same miserable longing that the shadow looked at you with. And that's when you remember something your mother used to say to you when you were a child, a long time ago. 

Our deepest desires, our most precious wishes and longings, hide in our shadows. Everything we want follows us within our shadows as the weights of our souls.  

You wanted to kick yourself for being so foolish, for not understanding until now. Maybe a small part of you had always known, but it had been easy to ignore in your imaginary rivalry with the sinner. But a shadow never lies. Even the ones who can think and act on their own. They will always mirror their owner's heart's wishes and act upon them when the host won't take charge of getting what they desire. 

"You're in love with me," you whispered. It was not a question but a statement—a statement that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity but not long enough. 

“How? What? When?” you asked, desperate for answers.

Alastor walked hesitantly towards you, looked you deep into your eyes and did something you never thought he would do. He kissed your cheek. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as his warm lips softly touched your cheek, and when he pulled away, you could still feel their presence against your skin. As if you were branded by their sweet touch. 

"Come now," was the last thing he said to his shadow as he walked around you and back up the stairs. Alastor's shadow made a melancholic chirping noise before it let go of you and followed its master.

You were left alone in the big hotel lobby. Wishing that it was your lips Alastor had kissed and not your cheek.

PART 2.

I really hope it lived up to the expectations, but I loved writing it! It got a lot more angsty than I first intended...

[steddieas-shegoes]

“any regrets? anything you’d do differently?”

eddie knows the interviewer is just doing her job, probably doesn’t even realize that’s the worst question she could ask. but the guys tense and the air gets thick and something shifts inside eddie’s chest.

“it’s been two years and i still haven’t apologized.”

the interviewer doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but she doesn’t need to. he’s not gonna explain more than that and he doesn’t care if people make their own connections and excuses.

maybe steve will hear it. maybe robin will. maybe dustin will convince steve to call him.

or maybe he was cryptic for nothing and steve will keep ignoring his calls. he used to think his timing sucked until mike let it slip that he lets all calls go to his answering machine to avoid picking up when eddie calls him.

eddie only calls on bad nights, if he’s drunk or high, or sometimes on the nights that could only be better if steve was by his side. eddie calls most nights.

the interview is done and eddie is being whisked away, getting berated by their publicist about his answer to a question that can never have a good one. the guys are pretending not to listen, but failing. eddie loves them for trying.

the next interview, he stays quiet, at least as much as he can get away with. he fakes a smile, a laugh, whatever it takes to seem like he didn’t just admit that he fucked up on live television.

they get to sleep in their own beds tonight, but tomorrow is the start of their radio show tour to promote their album. it’ll be two weeks long, hitting the major stations daily until they’ve answered all the hard hitting questions like if gareth snores or if they ever find time to eat healthy on tour.

but his bed is his least favorite place to sleep, and no amount of tossing and turning is gonna give him what he needs.

so he calls steve.

“harrington’s house, you’ve reached the harrington who actually lives here.”

eddie’s so shocked that steve answered he barely even registers his words.

“hello?” steve’s voice turns serious. “anyone there?”

“stevie?”

eddie shouldn’t have started with that, but he wasn’t in control of his body anymore.

steve hangs up.

somehow it’s worse than if he hadn’t answered at all.

but eddie is fine. he is.

he’s gonna close his eyes and go to sleep and maybe not dream about dying or fucking up the only good thing he ever had.

his phone rings and he’s almost certain he’s dreaming already.

“hello?”

“sorry i panicked.”

steve’s voice is like a reverb in an arena, sending chills down eddie’s arms.

“you’re not the only one.”

“but…you called me.”

“because you never answer.”

“so why call? if i’m never gonna answer.”

“because if you do answer, i can hear your voice.”

steve sits with that answer for a minute before he speaks.

“dustin played me the interview.”

“yeah.”

“was it me? was i your regret?”

how could steve think that? how could the man who saved his life ever believe he was anything less than a gift? in no universe would eddie regret steve.

“no. my regret is making you ever think that you could be a mistake.”

eddie should end it there, let steve marinate with that. he knows no amount of apologies will actually help, but he could give it a try anyway.

“i’m sorry i left when you needed me. i’m sorry i was selfish and chose to get out and leave you behind. and i’m sorry none of my sorries even matter because it’s too late.”

for a minute—yes, eddie counts— there’s silence. and then there’s a small shuffling sound and eddie’s almost sure that steve’s gonna hang up.

instead, steve sounds like he’s holding back tears when he speaks.

“are you gonna come back?”

eddie can’t. he can’t just put a pause on the band or any of their plans. it’s not fair to the guys or the fans or himself.

but he can do something he should’ve done two years ago.

“will you come with me?”

the question hangs in the air for what feels like forever. steve may say no. that’s part of why eddie didn’t even ask the first time. but he may say-

“yes.”

“you will?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“you stop trying to forget all the bad parts. the bad parts sucked, but they brought us together. running from them means running from me. at least hold my hand so i can run with you.”

eddie thinks maybe he could write a song about that.

and he thinks he’d like to hold steve’s hand while he does.

[splataii]

toji x male reader

cw: dom male character, sub male reader,

wc 1.5k

freeloader toji who likes to pop in at your place n take a load off whenever he’s in the mood.

no text, no call, no nothing. just him showing up to sleep on your bed, watching his shitty tv shows on your couch after draining your fridge for everything it's worth.

you don't get no chance to say no cause he's way too busy telling you just what an absolute angel you are as he slips through your door. you won't even know he's there, promise. but it’s hard for him to keep such a promise when he’s such a terrible roommate.

he walks around half naked like he owns the place, sweatpants falling so low around his waist that his dick threatens to fall out with every step he takes..

when he feels like being more annoying than usual, he hangs around you, leaning against doorways and faking a yawn or two to stretch so you can catch the outline of his dick, and the way his body flexes.

it makes it hard to look him in the eyes when you're telling him to pull his own weight for the millionth time that week, and he knows it.

“you got a staring problem or what?” he teases, following the way your eyes trace down to the dick print in his loose grey track pants. guys like you are just way too fuckin easy. too flustered to finish, you let him off with a simple warning before leaving him be. but what he really wants is to force ya to quit talking his ear off by getting you on your knees and shoving his cock down your throat. maybe then he could finally put that mouth a yours to good use.

toji also gets so heated about the smallest things, moving you out the way so he can be the one to answer the door to all your one night stands and potential future boyfriends. taking way too much pleasure in how they shrink in on themselves when he sizes them up from the doorway, being terribly sweeter than normal to you with all his pet names and touchiness. it seems like his hand stays glued to your waist no matter how much you pry him off a you.

everytime another guy runs with his tail between his legs, you're pointing the finger at toji, but that man couldn't care less. it’s not his fault they're too pussy. he knows exactly the type a man a doll like you needs and he can give that to you better than any of those little boys ever could.

what's more is he has no sense of personal space. it’s always, “i was just looking for something,”

when he hovers so close you can feel his smile on your neck while you all bent over in the fridge, caged between his arms as his bulge rubs against the small of your back.

or “an accident” when he’s spreading out on your already too small couch and practically forcing you onto his thigh, subtly grinding you against it everytime he moves as his hand slips around your waist and under your shirt. he’s just tryna consolidate space, honest. it ain't his fault he's as big as he is. and it's definitely not his fault you’ve got such a dirty little mind.

and he's such a mess.. clothes, dishes, everything. you find them scattered just about all over the place. the worst offense, however, was a discarded package laying on your living room table. a fleshlight, you realized seconds too late, toji making his grand entrance the moment you're shutting the box closed.

you can tell by the shit eating grin on his face that playing it cool won't cut it, but you try anyway, pretending to get back to tidying up the table as he inches up close behind you.

“i don’t mind sharing,” he breathes, hand hovering on your waist a second too long as he reaches around you for his box, “if you let me watch,”

you stay still, waiting for him to laugh it off and turn back around, but he stays leaning over you.

“youre such a…”

“i’m such a what?” he tilts his head, hand subtly sliding down to the waistband of your pants, massaging where it meets your warm skin. he's rubbing in circles, fingers gently raking up and down your side till they're slipping under your pants.

your eyes trace the veins on his hand as you feel him squeeze at your bare thigh, your underwear hitching farther up as his thumb presses close against your clothed dick. your mind spins every time you feel him inching closer to your soft cock, taking in the thought of him pulling you back into his lap and sliding your pants to your knees so he could take care of you like you deserved. mind falling away, you let yourself lean back into his chest, your hand firmly placed on his arm to ground yourself.

“..or i can always give you the real deal,” he hums your breathe hitching as he gropes at your growing bulge, his words hot on the skin of your neck as you feel his hardening dick grinding against the curve of your ass, “if, that's what his highness prefers,”

you can feel the smirk on his lips as he presses a kiss against the side of your neck, and you blink away whatever trance he had you in.

“dickhead,” you mutter, slipping out of his arms and away from him, pretending not to notice his eyes trained on you as you break away. not once does that stupid smile leave his face as he watches you leave him and his half hard cock alone in the living room.

and that's he worst part of it all.. the worst part a him.. how smug he fucking gets. no matter how much you tell him off, no matter how much he teases you, he knows you can’t never stay mad at him for long. just a few touches in all the right places, a couple spoken promises, and you're like putty in his arms.

it don't matter how much tension you got pent up from his antics; at the end of the day, you're his. and he's always gonna be there to relieve that stress for you the best way he knows how; by bending you over whatever surface is nearest and railing you till you can't think of anything but the shape of his dick stuffed down your ass.

<3

“i was so lonely last night, yknow that?” tojis cock drills into you as you do your best to keep upright against the couch, “left me hard in the living room. had to take care of it all by myself,”

but you been knew that. he made no effort to hide it seeing how loud he was yesterday. you could hear him groaning your name and all the ways he wanted to have you from the comforts of your own bedroom, body hot as you kept your thighs pressed together, waiting for him to finish.

the moment you were back from your shift he was on you, pressing open mouth kisses as he made quick work of stripping you down. he had been waiting for what felt like ages to have all of you underneath him like this, so sweet and pliant in his arms, leaning into his heavy hands. coming undone at his every touch.

“what, nothing to say?” he grunts, grip on your waist tightening as you clench around him, sucking him back in with every thrust, his hands pulling your hips to fuck back into his, “or are you gonna let this ass do all the talking?”

you shake your head, helplessly grinding against the back of the couch as he splits you open on his dick.

“‘s too much,” you cry in between broken moans, burying your face in the nearest pillow in an attempt to hide how good he feels inside you. but he comes to a slow harsh grind of his cock, hands running all up your sides until they're resting on your shoulder.

he pulls you out of your pillow, forcing you to hear the lewd sound of his cock pulling out and leaving you empty. toji grunts, your tight hole not wanting to let go before its clenching around nothing, his pre dripping down the curve of your ass and off your thighs.

you do your best to stay steady on shaky arms, desperate whines muffled by your own hands as you feel him lining up again.

“you can take it sweetheart,” he rasps before ramming back into you, your ass spasming at the harsh thrust of his cock as he stuffs you full. your hand falls away from your lips, unable to hide the moans he rips from you as he pulls out and forces his cock into your ass again and again, making sure that the only thing your body will be able to remember is the shape of him inside you.

“that's it, doll,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss at the tears threatening to fall from your eyes as his strong arms keep you upright, “now let me hear you,”

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know you?

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: In the aftermath of a brief Kidnapping, Red Hood seems to think your important and wont stop hanging around your apartment.

Or in other terms, Jason got scared you were gonna die and doesn’t want to leave you alone

Notes: Reader is a waitress at a local bookstore/coffee shop that Jason frequents and he has grown very fond of her. They are vague acquaintances And she does not know that Jason is Red Hood. This is literally my first-ever attempt at a fanfic and Jason Todd has been rattling around in my brain. I might attempt to make this like a short series or something. Anyway, I hope it's enjoyed!!

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Masterlist

“I think I have a new favorite stalker,” you say loudly out your open window.

 Keeping your window open in Gotham was probably the worst idea you could ever have but your curiosity got the better of you when started to notice the fleeting red hanging out across the street and occasionally on your fire escape over the past two weeks. At first you were worried considering your recent encounter with Scarecrow as an attempted research rat.

However, the longer the red stayed near the easier it became to recognize. His helmet was shiny, which is what made it so easy to spot him. How that was helpful to a vigilante you didn’t know. Red hood was watching you and you had a feeling it was to make sure you were okay. You had heard of other bats checking on Civilians after traumatic incidents when they could, but every night for two weeks seems a bit excessive and he hasn’t actually talked to you. So what was he doing?

With no response to your jab, you lean out your window and repeat yourself, making a point to stare at the red helmet on the building across the street.

“I said I think I have a new favorite stalker!” You continue to stare him down.

Even in the minimal street lighting you can see his body tense, ready to run.

“Maybe he’d like to chat?” you tilt your head in questioning. You don’t why you asked. You were bad at keeping a regular conversation. If he came over and did, in fact, decide to chat, it might end up a short conversation. 

A clattered thud pulls you from your thoughts and you gaze turns from the opposite roof top to the very large man now standing on your fire escape next to your window. You can’t help but stare at him. 6” something and built like a brick wall. Intimidating even leaning against the building.

Was he this big when he saved me?

“Hi?” is the only response you could muster. The urge to slam the window closed and shut your curtains itches at your finger tips. He stares at you, or at least you assume as much, the helmets white eyes giving away nothing. No wonder people were terrified of Red Hood. You haven’t even done anything wrong and you could wet yourself  right here and now.

“Hi” You don’t know why your shocked to hear the modulated voice. He had talked to when he saved you from Scarecrow but it was still strange to hear. Slightly robotic but definitely a person underneath.

You realize that, maybe, you’ve been staring for too long.

“Tea?” you back away from the window and head for the kitchen expecting him to follow, as well as taking a moment to breath.

You just invited a good/bad vigilante into your home! What is wrong with you?  Your mind is a swirling, anxious debate as you fill your kettle.

“I only have Green tea, I hope you don’t mind.” you yell from the kitchen, unsure if he was even in the apartment.

“Not at all” His voice is close then you anticipated, assuming he stay close to the window.

Instead you turn to find him sitting comfortably at your dining room table, watching you move about the kitchen. He looks out of place in your soft warm toned home. His brown leather jacket the only thing that could blend in. The harsh red bat on his chest sticking out like a sore thumb. Your gaze lingers a moment at the holsters on his thighs, suddenly realizing that if he wanted to do something to you, you were screwed. You turn back to your cabinets and pull out a couple of mugs, pushing away the thoughts. Red Hood was good guy, despite what previous attempts at bad he had in the past. You stand at the counter and stare at your kettle, willing it to heat faster. After a moment, You hear a distorted sigh.

“You wanted to talk?” Red Hood asks

You shrug your shoulders without turning, not entirely prepared for a conversation just yet. Red Hood doesn’t push you. The kettle begins to whistle, and you pour the two mugs, settling tea bags into them. You pick them up and set one in front of red hood, and settle into the seat opposite his, blowing on your tea. You take a sip and promptly burn your tongue, hissing in pain.

“it’s hot”

Your eyes fly up to Red Hood. You choke out a thanks, Having not realized he had taken off his Helmet. You let eye linger across his face, very handsome. A scar on his lips, that rests in a smirk, and another across his cheek. As you eye move up you let out a startled laugh, Another mask keeps his eyes hidden.

“What?” He asks, The smirk on his lips grows.

As your laughing fit slows, you pause to breath.

“You wear two masks.” You pause waiting for him to laugh. All he does is furrow his brows.

“it’s funny” you insist but he doesn’t respond. You settle down again. Well as much as you can considering the man in front of you, staring at your mug, slightly embarrassed

“So I’m your favorite stalker? You got a few?” Red's voice rings out in the silence. It’s rough and deep, like he’d been yelling.

A flush creeps up your face. If you were embarrassed before, you were definitely embarrassed now. It had taken you all day to come up with the throw away comment. You thought It was funny. You also didn’t think you would get this far in your interaction with Red Hood.

“Not really, just the one I hope” you chance a glance at him to find him still unsettlingly staring at you as a he takes a sip of his tea, now cooled. Your mind searches for what else to say.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t want that either” Jason finally breaks eye contact with you, looking around your apartment.

With his stare no longer on you, you take the opportunity to really take him in. Despite the scars on his face, there was kindness there. And despite his intimidating stature, he seemed to pull himself in, like he was afraid to take up space. His forearms exposed through his suit. What a weird design. Not that you were complaining. Overall, Red Hood was hot. You flush at the thought.

“Thank you, by the way” you rush out, “for saving me… it really means a lot”

Jason turns his gaze back to you. You brave up and hold his stare. Suddenly thinking, he looks familiar. You furrow your brows for a moment.

“Do I know you?” You ask before you can stop yourself. You physically cringe and try to back track.

“I mean, obviously I know you, you saved my life and all but I mean like I know your face? Maybe, not that it matters. Course you wouldn’t tell me if I did know your civilian identity because then it wouldn’t be a secret. I just think I know your face but that doesn’t mean that I want you to tell me. And maybe you just have one of those faces…” you continue to ramble some more. Jason watches you carefully and finishes his tea. You pause to breath in your rant and he jumps in.

“Thanks for the tea” he grabs his Helmet, sliding it on before continuing, voice changed, “and your welcome, for saving you.”

You watches as he walks back toward the window, frozen and unsure what to do. As climbs out onto the fire escape you yell out.

“Your welcome and you don’t have to hide outside, you can come in next time.”

He’s gone before even finish the sentence. You sink back in your chair.

What is wrong with you? Why are you so awkward? That was terrible!

You try to push the interaction from your mind as you close the window and go about spot cleaning your apartment. Once done your anxious thoughts return.

This is going to be a long night. You think as you turn into bed.