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natalievoncatte · 6 months ago

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“She’s dying.”

Cait looked up from the spread of paperwork on her desk -no one told her that seizing sold command of the city as a military dictator would involve so much paperwork- and found Loris standing in her doorway.

“I was under the impression that you’d handed in your badge and left the force.”

“She’s dying.”

Cait said nothing, scratching at one of the papers with a pen, signing off on something that most certainly did not require her attention.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

She looked away, but still he dared throw a broad shadow across the room, across her.

“Yes, you do.”

Cait let out a low, rasping sigh, a deep gurgle of frustration in the back of her throat. Her fingers dug into her desk and she itched to hold a gunstock in her hands. She was tired of these problems, she was tired of challenges she couldn’t just shoot, like Ambessa ramping up the pressure to lead a full-strength incursion into the Undercity to clear the Lanes. Rooting out the chem barons hadn’t been ending, it turned out, as they were almost a stabilizing influence and… and she had seen artwork of Jinx, the people of the Lanes seeing her as some kind of folk hero.

“She disobeyed my orders and abandoned our mission. Because of her, Jinx escaped. Trusting her was a mistake.”

“Not how she told it.”

Exasperated, Cait spun, ready to order him to leave lest he end up in Stillwater himself, but then she froze. Is that how she handled her problems now, by locking then up in dungeons without a trial?

How had it come to this? She finally had the authority she craved in her hands and yet it seemed every move she made worsened the very problems she’d dedicated her life to solving. She had almost died to show the city what the Enforcers could be, had pleaded with the Council to show the Undercity grace, to recognize what their people and their government had done to their neighbors… and now she was the Council, and how would she now receive those same pleas she’d once made?

Loris regards her coolly. The big man held his cards close to the vest, didn’t show emotion, but during their strike raids he’d taken on a protective role over all of them, the oldest member of the team. She wouldn’t go so far as to say he was a mentor, or even a friend, he was her subordinate, but she did respect him.

“She’s been making her way fighting in the pits. She fights all day and drinks all night, barely eats, barely sleeps. By the time I left I don’t think she’d eaten I three days and she lost two straight bouts to jobbers. It’ll kill her soon enough, the bottle or an opponent with something to prove or just some random thug with a knife. Is that what you want?”

Cait kept her face schooled, her posture prim. How dare he speak to her so frankly?

The trembling in her legs, she couldn’t fight, nor the impulse to worry her lip with her teeth. She suddenly felt five years old again, confessing some petty transgression to her mother. What would her mother think of what she’d done?

“What are you suggesting.”

“We bring her home. Go in, get her, get out through the vents. Quick and quiet, no uniforms. Just us.”

Cait hesitated. This could be a trap- some wannabe ruler of the Lanes might have put him up to this to lure her into the Undercity to be dealt with directly. No, she wasn’t that much of a fool.

Her jaw twisted. Good gods she’d have someone tasting her food next. What was she turning into?

“We need someone else to watch our backs. Maddie.”

Loris nodded. “Sooner we go, the better.”

“I’ll ready myself now.”

“You’ll need a disguise.”

“I have one.”

Cait hadn’t worn these clothes since the night she lay on her bed, sharing secrets with Vi, trading gentle touches. If she had to pinpoint a moment that she’d fallen in love with Violet it was the gentle way she took Cait’s hand and pressed it to her cheek, such adoration in her eyes.

What had she done?

The three of them stole into the Undercity the same way they had as a team- the ventilation shafts. Loris knew the way.

As they worked their way through the always and twisting warrens of Zaun, Cait could only think of the first time she’d come here- scared and trying to put on a brave face as she rushed after the brash, confident brick wall of a woman she’d followed here, desperately hoping that her sudden conviction that it was a terrible idea was wrong.

It actually turned out worse than a terrible idea. She’d almost been blown up, had been kidnapped, almost murdered by Silco’s men if not for Vi punching out an entire tower structure.

It had been the best idea she’d ever had.

“We’re here,” said Loris.

“It looks like they dump bodies here,” said Maddie, looking up at the tenement.

“Shut up,” Cait snapped, remembering something similar she’d said once, not knowing the reverent meaning the place held for Vi.

Loris looked up at one of the windows.

“We’d best hope she’s here. If she’s not we’re going to have trouble.”

“Lead the way.”

Cait kept her head down and her hood up -they’d all be killed if she were recognized- as the trio made their way up. Vi was living in a flop house. All around were Shimmer addicts. Cait felt her gut seize as she saw them trembling, pale and sweaty and rubbing at sores.

She had taken away the chemical that kept the worst of it at bay for them, but then what had she done? Just smashing the chem barons didn’t reverse the harm they’d caused. The addicted were still here.

When they reached Vi’s room, Loris knocked and the door swung open, unbarred.

At first, Cait thought this a mistake, or that Vi had moved on, but then she realized the broken form lying on the narrow, sweat-stained bed was Vi.

She’d lost weight, and was pale as a sheet except for the profusion of bruises and scrapes that covered her back and arms. There were bottles and broken glass strewn about everywhere and the wall mirror was shattered, as if from a punch.

Cait, forgetting herself, rushed to Vi’s side and knelt by the bed.

“Vi? Vi? Vi, wake up.”

Glassy eyed, Vi didn’t seem to see her.

Swallowing hard, Cait probed, quickly checking her over for injuries.

She had a broken rib at the very least. Fuck!

“Vi?”

“Cupcake?” Vi murmured. “Are you real?”

“Cupcake?” Maddie broke in. “Is she hungry?”

“Shut up,” Cait hissed. “We have to go, we’ve been here too long already.”

“Let’s get her to the vents and back topside,” said Loris.

“Help me carry her,” said Cait.

“I’ve got her,” the big man said.

Something in Cait crumbled when she saw how easily he lifted Vi from the bed. Cait pulled her hood low and they swaddled Vi in what they could find, scrambling to avoid notice. Cait’s heart pounded with every step and she was sure they’d be spotted and mobbed and Zaun would be parading the body of the Commander of Piltover around the streets by morning.

Somehow, they made it. As the approached the bridge crossing, Cait her the sounds of rifles racking and threw back her hood.

“Get out of my way,” she snarled.

Her Enforcers obliged.

“Where are we taking her?” said Loris.

“Home.”

As soon as she was able, she arranged for transport and Loris lowered Vi onto a stretcher. It might have been better to conduct her to a hospital, but Cait would have none of that.

She took Vi home, had her men lay Vi in her bed, then harshly ordered them out.

“Thank you,” she said to Loris and Maddie.

The former nodded curtly and left. Maddie lingered for a moment, her eyes searching the room before she slipped out as Cait asked her to find her father.

Tobias appeared. Maddie did not join him, for which she was grateful.

Cait said nothing and her father kept his own council just as readily. They hadn’t been speaking much, the heartfelt talks and reminisces drying up as Cait threw herself into her work. She could sense her father’s distaste but above all else, he was a doctor. Cait waited as he made his examination.

Finally he said, “her torso will need binding for the broken rib, and those cuts will be needing treatment. She’s been drinking.”

Cait nodded.

“The withdrawal will be terrible for her.”

Cait nodded vigorously, biting her lip as she looked down at Vi.

“I’ll see to bringing in some nurses to help me. Stay back, and let us work.”

Her father called upon his own staff from the hospital and soon Vi was surrounded.

With all her authority, Cait could do nothing but watch as Vi’s ribs were bandaged for support. She didn’t wake through any of it, even as her body jerked while her wounds were cleaned and Cait herself unwound her wraps.

Her father ran a line into Vi’s arm and hung a bottle of fluids.

“I’ve started her on normal saline and a nutritional supplement, antibiotics to be administered every twelve hours on the hour.”

“Thank you.”

“I did it for you.”

Cait was not prepared to be alone with Vi but it happened anyway. She sat by the bedside and watched Vi breathe, her chest rising and falling steadily. She would call names in her sleep: Mom. Vander. Powder.

Cait.

Cait. Cait. Cait.

Vi called her name like a prayer, voice that of a lonely searcher calling out in the dark.

“I’m here,” Cait whispered, “I’m here, Vi. Just open your eyes.”

Hours stretched into a day, two. Cait was slumped in her chair when it happened, using her cape as a blanket.

“Cait?”

Her voice sounded different, somehow more coherent. It took Cait a stunned moment to realize that Vi was looking at her.

“Where am I?”

“I brought you home.”

Vi grunted as she started to sit up. Cait jolted to her feet and pressed her back down, gently.

“You’ve a broken rib, and the withdrawal.”

Vi fell back into the pillows.

“You should have left me where you found me, Cupcake.”

“I never should have left you at all.”

#caitvi #Violyn #piltover’s finest #arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #wlw #lesbian #league of lesbians #arcane s2 act 2 fix fic #protective cait #angsty cait #cait agonizing over what she’s become #hurt/comfort #caitvi hurt/comfort #arcane hurt/comfort #ficlet

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lay-z · 7 months ago

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🕊 Day 10 – Santa Soap and his most dangerous mission

A continuation to 🌨 Day 2 – Quaint, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: At the annual Christmas party on base, you’re torn between making a quick escape and holding out to get a glimpse of someone special.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: No smut. | military!Reader; cussing; nicotine addiction; friendship; mutual pining; medical inaccuracies; humour; fluff; friends/teammates to lovers

Word count: 2.5k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

You’ve made the internal decision that you’ll clock the next bloody bastard who dares to approach you only to comment on your appearance tonight. The fact that you’re wearing a dress and heels and some makeup for a rare change, has definitely gained too much attention from the wrong crowd.

Standing in a corner of the adapted and decorated event location, close to the ceiling-to-floor windows that lead to the equally decorated large balcony, you pick at the sleeve of your dress with one hand while holding an empty wine glass in the other, feeling yourself getting terribly antsy as the night progresses.

Hell, it has already slipped your mind at this point in the evening, why you even decided to get all dolled up. You hate the attention from male soldiers here on base, especially superiors who might take it the wrong way, though you could care less about the rookies. You stand above their opinions and the rumours about you.

You’re at a point where you’d kill for a ciggy right about now, but you’re trying to quit the dirty habit to start the New Year a better person than last. So, cold turkey, because you’re that determined and petty to quit after both Gaz and Soap taunted you about never being able to do it. On top of that, more alcohol is also not an option, because it would only worsen the need for a beloved cancer stick.

Glancing at the watch on the wall, you see that it’s been barely an hour since you showed up here, and you’re already mentally debating if it’s appropriate to make an early escape back to your quarters. Perhaps you can dodge Captain Price on your way out, the man who’d secretly ordered you to socialize and mingle.

However, in the back of your mind, there’s also that nagging voice that keeps making your stomach twist and knot with questionable words and thoughts, and desires, about your Lieutenant.

You haven’t seen him yet… and most importantly, he hasn’t seen you!

No, you didn’t dress up for Ghost, of course not. That would be so silly and frankly, also pathetic.

“Oh, look at ye!”

Once Soap’s voice reaches your ears over the noise of the surrounding crowd, you fear your eyes might roll back so far into your skull that they might get stuck this time.

You cross your arms over your chest awkwardly, still holding the empty wine glass, “Will you leave me alone already? No, I don’t wanna kiss under your fucking mistletoe and I’m not gonna call you ‘Santa Soap’, either.”

Gaz practically spawns next to Soap, wearing a matching Santa hat like the goofy Scotsman, a drink in his hand, pearly whites gleaming in the dim light as he grins mischievously, “Now, why would you be such a grump on this fine evening, Sergeant? Our Santa here’s simply trying his best to spread the Christmas spirit.”

Meanwhile, Soap nods enthusiastically while fetching another mistletoe from the inside pocket of his dark grey lumber jacket, just like the one you’d previously thrown away when he tried to make you kiss him earlier.

“Did you seriously bring more than one?”

Soap nods innocently, bright blue eyes shining with mirth and liquor, “Aye, ‘course. Cannae show up unprepared, my wee she-elf.”

Gaz snorts, “Always pack enough ammo.” He nods approvingly and takes a sip of his drink.

You roll your eyes again, “Ugh, shut up you two.”

“Aw, are we a bit narky, eh? Need a ciggy that bad already, lassie?” Soap coos tauntingly, grinning boyishly when you scoff and turn your back to them dismissively, a clear pout on your red-painted lips.

“I think she’s just vexed, because our Lt. didn’t show up yet.” Gaz mumbles into his glass, peeking over the rim as he gauges your reaction.

That makes your breath falter momentarily, because have you been that obvious lately?

After you spent that night on guard duty with Ghost a few weeks ago, you felt like you’d made progress with him. He’d opened up a bit about his childhood and past, though he always kept things sort of vague, and in return, you were soaking up each tiny bit of intel you could gather about him, eager to solve the puzzle – or get a glance of the display picture of the puzzles' carton, at least.

The mystery about him didn’t stop your rapidly cementing crush on him, either. And it’s an odd feeling, falling in love, after so many years of successfully throwing yourself into your career instead of focusing on a possible romantic relationship.

Who knew you’d find the latter at your bloody job of all places.

You look down into your wine glass, swirling the last ruby droplet around as you bite your tongue, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Here you are, thinking you were being sneaky with your growing – and much forbidden – infatuation with your superior.

Soap nudges Gaz’ side while you’re not looking, shaking his head at his friend and teammate with his thick brows furrowed chidingly, making Gaz shrug in return, his expression apologetic before he lifts his drink up to his lips again.

“Think I saw him head out on the balcony, lassie,” Soap remarks, his voice surprisingly serious and soft for a change, “If ye’re stealthy enough ye might catch him.”

“We both know that’d be impossible, Johnny,” you retort languidly as you lift up the wine glass to slurp up the tiny droplet, “No one can sneak up on Simon. Plus, he’s not here, so stop lying.”

“Simon?!” The men bark in unison, eyebrows shooting up as if you’d just insulted their mothers.

“Oooh, since when are you two on first name basis?” Gaz inquires curiously, his warm brown eyes getting that familiar spark whenever he smells potential new gossip – gossip you won’t provide this time.

“We’re not,” you lie, smacking your lips as you crave another drink – and a cigarette along with it, “– and if we were, I wouldn’t tell you, Garrick.”

Soap snickers, stepping around you and giving your shoulders a few squeezes. He rubs them obnoxiously until you shrug him off with an annoyed click of your tongue and a glare over your shoulder.

“Could you stop? You’re so annoying.”

Gaz laughs as he watches you and Soap act like cat and dog, his eyebrow quirking with a knowing smile when Soap pries the wine glass out of your hand next, giving your back a soft shove towards the balcony doors.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’ll keep bein’ annoyin’, so ye better take a breather now, sweetheart.”

“Muppets,” you mutter under your breath, getting more agitated by their behaviour, “Both of you!”

Gaz lifts his hands in surrender, chuckling as he takes a side step to let you walk past while you keep mumbling to yourself under your breath.

“Risky,” Gaz remarks, flashing a grin at Soap once you’re out of ear shot, “This might be your best work so far… or a guaranteed arse kicking, MacTavish. You don’t think she’ll notice?”

“Nah,” Soap sighs dreamily, looking in the direction you left in before he perks up again, “Let’s get another drink, eh?”

As you step outside onto the balcony, you take a swift glance around before you immediately regret not bringing your jacket as the icy winds swirl about.

Hugging your arms around yourself, you take a few sauntering steps farther out on the spacious balcony, admiring the fairy lights wrapped around the long railing and the clear night sky as you tip your head back to look at the moon and stars.

It’s still a wonder to you, how unique the sky looks in different countries; have you spent some of your time on deployments simply stargazing whenever you found yourself on guard duty and whenever you felt safe enough to do so.

And suddenly, as the noises from inside, all the chatter and boisterous laughter and music, are simply muffled into the background, you feel utterly lonely and… strangely defeated.

“What the hell am I even doing here?” You groan quietly and sigh deeply, warm breath puffing and fogging up in the cold.

“That’s what ‘m askin’ myself.”

Nearly jumping out of your skin with a gasp, you almost turn your ankle in your pumps as you flinch away from the dark corner to your right.

You can only see the flickering flame of a lighter first, followd by the amber glow of a cigarette tip, blue smoke curling in the darkness and evaporating into nothingness, before the behemoth of a man steps out of the shadows towards you, like the grim reaper himself, living up to his name as Ghost.

“Fucking hell, Simon,” you chide, still breathing heavily as you clutch your rapidly beating heart, though now it’s beating for a whole different reason, “You need to stop scaring people like that!”

“Not my problem you’re jumpy like a little bunny.” He retorts gruffly, though you can clearly hear the smile in his voice before you can see it.

His simple, black balaclava is rucked up over his nose again as he takes another lazy drag of his cigarette while his dark eyes give you an agonizingly slow once over, one that has your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. He keeps the smoke in his lungs as he speaks, “You look nice. Different.” He exhales.

Needless to say, you don’t clock him for that.

“Different,” you repeat under your breath as you look at him; drinking in the exposed, pale skin of his neck, his cheeks, his mouth, as always. You notice that he shaved. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that clings to his muscular thighs nicely, a dark hoodie and black leather jacket along with boots.

He looks nice. Hot, actually. God... he’s so hot...

“Aye, different as in nice. Want me to tell ya that you’re beautiful?” He asks bluntly, taking another drag, “Would feel wrong to tell ya that now, lass. You were already beautiful without all –“ He makes a vague gesture to your face and dress, “– ‘o that.”

“Okay, thanks.” You squeak; your throat now terribly dry. There is nothing you would love more than snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers to take a greedy drag and calm your jangled nerves.

“Mhmm,” he hums, then and doesn’t stop staring; his onyx eyes flickering over your form as if he’s assessing you.

“Why are you out here anyway?” He makes another gesture at your outfit, “Dressed like that. It’s too cold, ya dafty.”

You could ask him the same, but you feel like you know the answer to that. He hates crowds and avoids social gatherings if he can help it, but Price has ordered him to attend just like he did you.

“I just... needed some air,” you shrug and Ghost nods as he fetches a pack of smokes from his chest pocket, flicking the lid open with his thumb before holding it out to you.

Your fingers twitch against your arms, nails clawing into the fabric of your dress while your nostrils flare as you get a whiff of sweet, sweet tobacco. But then, the nagging voices of Gaz and Soap echo in your mind, and if they would catch you smoking out here, you’d never hear the end of it – and frankly, that’s not worth your nerves.

“Can’t,” you croak out, refusing reluctantly. Your eyes flit from his offer up to his eyes while he raises an eyebrow under his mask questioningly, “I quit.”

Ghost snorts, flicking the lid closed again, “Why?” The small pack disappears back into his pocket.

“Someone told me it’s unhealthy,” you jest with a small shrug, hugging your arms tighter around yourself as the cold starts seeping into your bones.

“Hmpf,” he hums again and pauses before he takes another slow drag, “What an arsehole.” He exhales through his nose, smoke curling into the air as he smiles bemusedly.

And then, there is a tense pause as you watch how the golden glow of the surrounding fairy lights reflect in his dark brown eyes, adding a sudden soft warmth to his lingering gaze.

“Can you blow some smoke in my face?” You ask, biting your inner cheek before adding, “I read that’s what pregnant ladies do when they struggle to quit smoking at once.”

“Bollocks.” He barks out a laugh, flashing his slightly crooked teeth you’ve come to adore so much. Teeth who’ve been broken violently and been fixed too many times.

“It’s true!” You whine playfully, chuckling along with him, and then he gives you an odd look, his lips tighten into a line before he speaks, “Close yer eyes.”

Your stomach does a flip at his soft-spoken command, your heart flutters violently as he takes a step closer, taking a long drag. And then, you do as he says and close your eyes, tilting your head back expectantly.

A few seconds later, the warm caress of his breath and thick cigarette smoke brush over your cold skin, making your skin pebble underneath your dress. You inhale greedily, lips parting slightly as you try to catch the taste of it discreetly.

“More?” He rasps and you nod slowly, keeping your eyes closed, “Yes, please.” You utter softly.

Another few seconds later, you hear the crunch of boots on concrete, and then you suddenly feel the tentative press of chapped lips on yours.

Your eyes squeeze together, and you nearly pull back in shock, but his hand is already cupping the back of your head gently, his other warm mammoth hand resting on your waist; his body heat seeping through your dress as he closes the distance between your bodies. The fabric of his balaclava brushes against your face as your noses nudge together before makes you tilt your head.

He kisses you slowly, somewhat clumsily, as if he’s calculating and overthinking each move of his lips, but by God, it’s good. So good, and so much better than you always imagined, because it’s real.

Your hands slip to the front of his broad, buff chest, fingers clutching his open leather jacket and holding on for dear life as your brain starts to shut off. The tip of his tongue brushes against the seam of your mouth and your lips part wider on instinct. His tongue dives in, seeking and rolling against yours almost timidly, and you can taste the nicotine, the whiskey, and the remnant minty taste of his toothpaste.

When a soft moan is torn from your throat, his hand squeezes your hip and his fingers brush through your hair before he grips the nape of your neck, holding you in place when he pulls back, breaking the first kiss you shared.

Your breaths mingle, hot and panting, as you gaze at each other with half-lidded eyes. His heart is thudding harshly against his chest, feeling it clearly beneath your palm, though it matches your own rapid heartbeat.

“...’m sorry, bunny,” Ghost says eventually, his voice rough and husky, his lips still brushing yours as he speaks, “I just... couldn’t keep ignoring that bloody mistletoe.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #soap #tf 141 #john mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod:mw #reader insert #cod advent calendar 2024

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bardic-tales · 6 months ago

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I have been having my migraines a lot lately, so I thought I would write something out yesterday.

Rated: General since he's literally just helping ease a headache.

Pairing: Sephiroth x genderless reader

You're lying in bed. The world behind your closed eyelids a chaotic storm of pain and darkness. A migraine and the agony associated with it grips your head in its iron vice. Each heartbeat pounds mercilessly against your temples. Even the faintest light slipping through the cracks of the curtains feels like a dagger to yours senses. You shift. The movement only worsens the nausea curling your stomach. The bile rises up from the pit of your stomach like a geyser.

Then, you feel him.

The air shifts subtly. The distinct energy and rose and vanilla scent associated with Sephiroth's presence is calming yet commanding. You don't even need to open your eyes to know he's there. The soft rustle of his coat as he kneels on the bed is enough. As his knees sink into the mattress, your stomach rolls once again.

"My cherished one," he murmurs, his voice laces with concern: a nickname he has given you lately. "You should have called for me."

Your lips part to protest that you didn't want to be a burden to him, but even speaking feels to much. Instead, s soft whimper of pain escapes you: a sound that makes Sephiroth brush his hand against your forehead. The leather of his glove feels cool against your hot skin.

"I'll handle this," he says firmly, rising now. You hear the faint clink of metal as Masamune is set aside: an act that reminds you how serious he is about tending to you. He and the ōdachi rarely part.

A few moments later, the bed dips slightly as he returns. This time, you feel the soft, damp press of a cloth against your forehead. The scent of peppermint wafts faintly through the air, calming the ache in your senses. His fingers move expertly, massaging the base of your skull with a pressure that’s somehow precise yet gentle.

"It's the tension right here," he explains in a low voice, a soft husky whisper. "Your body carries more than it should."

The room remains silent save for the steady rhythm of his movements. Every stroke of his hands feels deliberate, unraveling the pain knot by knot, thread by thread. He shifts once, reaching for something, a a soft emerald glow breaks through the darkness behind your eyes, but your hearing picks up a soft melodic hum: like a delicate bell chiming. Your eyes are still closed.

The warmth washes over you, but the spell does not eliminate the pain completely rather it dulls its edges, making it more bearable.

"I won't let this consume you," he promises, and you can feel the weight of his words: the conviction in his voice.

When you finally dare to open your eyes, it's to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, one knee crosses over the other. His cyan-colored eyes softens as he stares down at you. His feline-like pupils contracts with unspoken worry. He holds a steaming black cup in one hand -- herbal tea, its warmth promising some relief -- and offers it to you.

"You don't need to speak," he says when you hesitate. "Just know that I am here. I will always be here."

With trembling hands, you take the cup and sip. The warmth spreads through you, heating every inch of your body. Sephiroth stays close, a sentinel of silence, his presence grounding you in a moment that feels safe, despite the lingering ache.

#final fantasy vii fan fic #fan fiction #sephiroth x reader #x reader #canon x reader #my writing

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pjmmania · 4 days ago

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If Snow Decides to Fall

11. “And so it goes.”

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy

Taglist: @marihoneywk @amarawayne @chimmy-licious

Back to Chapter Index

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You were taking a shower post-hospital visit. Having been home for less than an hour, it felt like all the people in the world were calling Jimin. Though you hadn’t dared to check, you could assume that pictures and videos were spreading on social media like wildfire.

Worse, as you showered, you were aware that your boyfriend was on the phone with Management. That was what motivated you to exit the room in the first place and do something else - you couldn’t bear to listen to it. Now there was only a matter of time before you got a call from the company, and everyone knew what that would bring.

From the car ride until now, Jimin had been on the phone nonstop. His parents called in the car, then Yoongi, then Jin and Hoseok together. And now the company. In the meantime, you wondered if your own family had seen anything yet.

At the very least, it was vindicating to be clean, with damp washed hair and a change of clothes.

When you padded out of the master bathroom and into the main living space, Jimin was on the couch. Laying on his back, he held the phone up to his ear, running his spare hand through his hair anxiously and staring up at the ceiling. Any relief you experienced in the shower was gone. You were still at the center of a media storm and scandal.

You saw your phone sitting screen-down on the coffee table. You envisioned flipping it over to find missed calls from family and friends and you decided against it for the time being. Perhaps you could delay the inevitable just for a little longer, even if it was only a few minutes.

Instead, you clued into the conversation Jimin was having. He looked pissed.

“For the last time, yes, I am positive it’s mine. Please stop asking me that. Do you need me to run through the entire history again?”

You closed your eyes. Apparently, they knew just about everything.

He kept glancing at you as he spoke, checking what your demeanor was before getting distracted by his phone. Suddenly, his eyes hardened. His brows became severe, and he shot up into an upright sitting position.

“I am sorry,” his tongue was heat-ridden and bitter, “You may think I owe you that, but I happen to disagree. There is no circumstance in which I would ever-”

Jimin looked at you. He saw the curiosity and dread on your face, and took it down a notch.

He cleared his throat, “I’m just not doing that, alright? Unless you require anything further, I have plenty else to manage right now.”

A few moments later, he got off the phone and let out a grown, dipping his head low.

“So that didn’t go too well?” you asked hesitantly, sitting beside him.

Jimin lifted his head and put an arm around you, searching for the right words, “Could have been better, could have been worse. How are you?”

“I’m…I’m in shock maybe?” you shrugged.

“I’d rather have you be in shock for a while than have another fainting spell.”

“I can’t look at my phone right now, even though I feel like a should. My mom is probably worried sick about me. The girls too.”

He kissed your temple, and then you leaned your head on his shoulder, “You don’t need to look at that stuff until you feel prepared. I think after a little bit longer, it would be nice to let your poor mother know you’re alright. But for right now, you deserve to let your mind and body have a sliver of peace.”

“Well, if the company calls, I need to answer.”

“No, you don’t,” his tone carried a hint of resentment leftover from his recent phone call, “They have no right to expect you to put them above your health. You’re a pregnant woman who’s just getting home from an emergency hospital visit. In fact, if they dare try to contact you this soon, let me know. I’d want to deal with that.”

Unwilling to push the envelope at the risk of worsening his anger, you nodded, “Okay.”

“How’s the baby?”

You smiled softly as you looked down at your bump, “Wiggling, even though you and I just went through a lot, little one.”

Jimin’s own lips formed a minuscule grin. He touched your belly, right below the button. There were faint movements to be felt through his palm, which, to your confusion, erased his small smile. His expression grew colder, as he locked his eyes on your distended abdomen.

“I’m going to tell Minjun about Chaeyoung.” he said through tense muscles.

“You didn’t mention that when you were on the phone just now?”

He shook his head, “Wasn’t the conversation for that. But she deserves to face the consequences for what she did, and I just might take pleasure in exposing her.”

“Jimin-”

His hand remained on your belly, almost in a protective manner, “She has to pay for that. She knowingly gave the media a false story about me getting another woman pregnant. You and I both know that some people will take that story and run with it. Not to mention, the aftermath caused everyone so much strife. And then it put you, the woman who is actually carrying my child, in an emergency room.”

Your voice was soft, “All I was going to say is that we have bigger things to address at the moment. And I want us both to keep level heads.”

He let out a prolonged sigh, letting the silence linger for a moment, “I know, I know. Just give me some room to be pissed off for the both of us. I’m glad you seem to be attentive to your own peace of mind. You should be. But I can’t help it all the time and keep everything so locked up. I have to be able protect my family.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder so you could kiss his cheek, which was warm with a stressful flush, “I’d never ask you to keep it all locked up. You’re human. It’s just, at this point, getting revenge on Chaeyoung won’t solve any of our problems. You want your anger to be purposeful, but that would achieve nothing for us.”

Not to mention, you weren’t even sure you wanted her exposed. She’d be let go, almost certainly. The history of friendship between you made the idea difficult to imagine. But then again, her actions were about to get you fired.

He removed his hand from your bump, “Maybe we can put a hold on this conversation for now. My head’s starting to hurt.”

Before you could say anything else, he got up from the couch and started towards the kitchen. His gait and posture looked sullen, exhausted.

“We should both eat something,” he called back at you, “I’ll, uh...throw something together real fast.”

You weren’t hungry, but you weren’t going to make a quibble about that. As the minutes rolled on, you heard some dishes rattling around, drawers being opened and shut.

Your own phone was buzzing more and more now. The girls were texting you, asking if you were alright. Nothing from your parents yet, and you weren’t that surprised. They weren’t the type to be online often, which made you fear that they’d learn of it from one of their friends or neighbors.

Then, Hana called you.

You answered, “Hey, Hana.”

She sounded like she was in the car, “I was about to text you again, then realized I might as well just call. How are you?”

You let out a breath, “Not the worst, considering the circumstances. Maybe I’m in a state of shock or something. I’ve been offline since getting home.”

“Oh,” she said, “That’s for the best, I’d say.”

“I-Is it bad? What are people saying about me?”

From the kitchen, Jimin heard that and felt his heart crumble a little more. He knew that feeling all too well - a cruel part of oneself wanting to risk getting burned by the fire, just for the sake of some inner masochistic curiosity.

Hana replied, “I honestly don’t know either. Joonie texted me and told me the news…And then he picked me up from work and we’re almost at your place.”

You sat up a little more, “Wait, why? Don’t you both have things to do?”

Your puzzled boyfriend leaned back into the entryway, looking at you with furrowed brows.

“I got out of work a bit early,” she said, “So did he. No big deal.”

You had no idea what to do or say. You weren’t sure you were in the mood to have people over, and you had half a mind to kindly ask Hana to refrain.

Then, you thought of Jimin. He needed a friend right now, and in a crisis, Namjoon was a go-to. Even if he was still too stubborn to admit it.

“O-okay. See you in a few.”

You hung up the phone. Jimin ducked his head back again, “Hana’s coming over?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “With Namjoon.”

His expression went blank, and he returned to whatever task he was handling in the kitchen, disappearing from view. You hoisted yourself up slowly from the couch, being gentle with your body.

You found him filling a pot with water to boil. He had tells of tightening up when your presence came into the room, aware of what you were about to say to him. He didn’t want to hear it.

Instead of giving him a piece of your mind right away, you decided to help out and switched the stove on, before he could even set the pot down on it. The metal pot made a small thud when it met the rapidly heating surface. Jimin covered it with its corresponding glass lid.

“You shouldn’t be up, you know,” he said quietly, “You need to be off your feet for a while.”

You sighed, leaning back against the island and facing him, “I’m just standing in my own kitchen. I’m not doing anything strenuous.”

He returned a huff, turning his back to you to retrieve a cooking spoon from one of the drawers, “I suppose I need to make food for four now…”

You couldn’t bear it any longer.

“I think it might be time to move on from this whole feud. Let it be in the past. He’s deeply sorry, Jimin.”

He chuckled, “And how would you know that?”

You gulped, “Because he and I had a little talk at work the other day.”

He stopped what he was doing.

You went on, “He apologized to me for everything. The things he said about me, the inferences he made about my intentions. He was genuinely remorseful.”

Jimin looked back at you with conflicted eyes.

“And he wants to be there for you, probably now more than ever,” you said, “So you should give him a chance. I know that you want to. I heard you talking to him on the phone, when you found out about the fake story. You looked to him for help, because deep down you know that he’s a real friend. A protective friend.”

“His protectiveness is no justification for how he treated you and me.”

“That’s true, and he would agree with that,” your shoulders dropped, “Sometimes, that instinct can go awry. It can lead people down the wrong path. He certainly went down the wrong path in this case, and he owned up to that with me. And I love you, but right now, the shoe is on the other foot.”

Jimin was upset. It wasn’t difficult to read the conflict happening internally, but he wouldn’t let himself voice it. He was simply waiting for you to finish.

“You have that same protective nature in you, and that makes you a wonderful friend to people, and the best boyfriend and future father. But can’t you see how this part of you is keeping you from mending your friendship? It’s becoming destructive. Please don’t let it go on.”

Your phone buzzed again. You glanced down to read the text.

“They’re here. Now is the time to decide what you’re going to do.”

A couple more minutes passed as you waited to hear a knock on the door. That time was silent between the two of you. He took a bag of dry rice from the cupboard and measured out enough for four people. You remained standing next to the island until the moment to let the pair in arrived.

You went to let them in, while Jimin stayed there, keeping to himself.

When you opened the door, they wasted no time in making their way inside. This wasn’t the occasion to linger in the hallway.

After you had closed the door, Hana gave you a long hug, “It’s going to be okay.”

“Thanks,” you sighed into her shoulder, “This just feels so strange, kind of like when I found out I was pregnant. I almost don’t believe it’s really happening.”

Namjoon gave you a hug as well, which was unexpected but couldn’t have been more appropriately timed, given the short conversation you’d just had with Jimin.

The tall man said to you, “We are here for you guys. Whatever you need.”

Your boyfriend was listening in the kitchen, starting to feel like a child. He was frozen, pride keeping him rooted to the floor, unable to go and greet them. That’s when it began to feel plain stupid, and he was surprised with himself.

His entire world was just shaken to the core, and he was just standing there, too stubborn to greet a guy he’d known and loved for years, who came to offer solace?

It still didn’t feel great. In fact, it required him summoning more willpower than he would have liked, but he put everything aside to walk out and meet them.

Namjoon released you from the hug when he saw Jimin appear, nervous that the act would make him angry. On the contrary, the younger man inhaled, relaxed his shoulders, and walked forward.

You were studying your boyfriend’s face, trying to predict what he’d do, or what he’d say. For a moment, it was impossible to decipher. Hana was watching closely too, hoping she wasn’t about to witness a chiding.

Namjoon’s expression was full of regret, “I…I can’t imagine what this is like for y-”

Jimin shook his head and released a pent up huff, tugging him into an embrace. He patted his back firmly and cleared his throat.

“Thank you for being here.”

The weight of the situation wasn’t enough to prevent you from smiling softly. Both of them deserved to have this friendship back.

The leader was surprised, but eased into the hug, “I am so sorry.”

He knew he wasn’t apologizing out of sympathy for the circumstances, but for their past arguments.

“I know you are.” Jimin said.

Sensing that the guys needed a moment to themselves, Hana nudged you a bit. She directed you to move back in towards to living room with her eyes. You were happy to follow her lead, relieved to see them start to make up.

As your friend got you situated and comfortable on the couch, Jimin and Namjoon seemed to retreat into the kitchen.

The visitor fell right into helping the other prepare some food. Apparently, rice and some form chicken were on the menu.

Namjoon took over the rice, while Jimin started on the chicken, spicing it up to toss in an air fryer.

“Has the company called you?”

“Yeah, not that long ago. They’re not pleased.”

“Didn’t think they would be,” the older said, “Knowing how they operate, is there anything they…you know…want you to do?”

Jimin’s jaw tightened. He stealthily peaked around the wall to make sure you weren’t listening in. You were laying down on the couch, Hana perched casually on the other end of it. You were rubbing your bump, lost in your own chat, giving him permission to share aloud something he didn’t want you to know.

He lowered his volume, tone burdened with disgust, “They want me to make some sort of statement, apologize for ‘setting a poor example’. I realize we broke the rules, and I know that having children out of wedlock isn’t society’s ideal. But I outright refused to do that. I got pretty pissed off actually. If Y/N hadn’t walked into the room while I was on the phone, I might have said some pretty severe things.”

“You have a right to be pissed,” Namjoon encouraged, “They’re asking you to effectively betray Y/N, not to mention your own kid. You’d be casting such a negative light on them if you did that.”

“Exactly,” Jimin was maintaining his temper, “I understand the way this happened wasn’t the straight, traditional way. Honestly, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, what Y/N and I have gone through. But to turn around and publicly say that I regret any of it…”

“Would be insane,” the leader finished the thought, “Because you found the love of your life. You could never be expected to apologize for that.”

For some reason, the younger of the pair found himself cracking a smile, which grew into a subtle laugh.

Namjoon mirrored the chuckle, “What’s so funny?”

Jimin glanced back at him, “Nothing. It’s just kind of humorous to hear you say that, after all this time.”

He shrugged and chuckled some more, “Well, she is, isn’t she?”

The laughter died down, but a small grin remained, “She is. And thank you for acknowledging that.”

“I’m sorry it took so long, but now I’m happy to. I really want you to believe me when I say it.”

“I believe you. If there’s anything anyone can count on Kim Namjoon for, it’s the truth.”

It was a full house when the evening rolled around. All of the guys made their way over to your place eventually. Namjoon and Hana stayed the whole time.

It felt like someone had died - everyone coming over to offer their condolences. They were sorry for your loss of your job, yours and Jimin’s privacy.

During the day, your mother called you to check on you. Still nothing from the company. And not a word from your father, but that was something you'd gotten used to by now.

All of you were in the living room, scattered about on the couch, on chairs, some on the floor. You thought you knew what it felt like to be drained before, but this was yet another level.

“You know, I actually think those pictures of you guys leaving the hospital are kind of awesome,” Yoongi mentioned, “Holding hands, and neither of you look afraid. You come across as very united and strong.”

You appreciated the sentiment, “I’m glad, because ‘strong’ is not the word I’d use to describe how I felt in that moment.”

“Have you guys seen the photos?” Taehyung asked.

“No,” sighed Jimin, “It’s unnecessary.”

Hoseok remarked, “Probably for the best to keep off social media for a few more days. I don’t want to disturb you, but there’s a lot being said out there.”

Jungkook, wanting to save you both from worrying too much, added, “Not all of it is bad, though. If it helps…”

Jimin didn’t want to discuss what was being said, but you weren’t used to this. You didn’t know how to simply block it out, shield yourself from it totally. It was a human curiosity, to know one's own reputation and what people were saying.

Out of curiosity, you inquired, “What are some of the positive stuff?”

The youngest member offered you a more pleasant expression, though you could tell it was forced for your sake, “Many people are trying to support you guys, defending you against those who don’t have the kindest opinions. Actually, a lot of fans are congratulatory. Shocked, but happy.”

“R-Really?” you grinned softly. Maybe a little superficial of you, but it was a bandaid to hear that a portion of the masses didn’t hate you.

The father of your child picked up on the optimism in your voice. He played along with Jungkook’s narrative, wanting to increase your relief wherever he could.

Jimin smiled halfway, “There are always good people out there. You’ll learn over time to tune out the negative voices.”

“Do they know my name? Or my job?”

Hana giggled ironically, taking advantage of the lightness in the air, “Surely, you know that their fans are capable of impeccable detective work. Of course they’ve figured out your name by now. I didn’t see anyone discussing your role at the company, but it’s only a matter of time before that comes out too.”

You shrugged, “My former role anyway.”

Taehyung frowned, “Have they made that official?”

You shook your head as your doting boyfriend rubbed your knee, “Still waiting for that call…And the call about the lab results.”

“What lab results?” Jungkook furrowed his brows, eyes darting between you and Jimin.

Not all of them had been updated on the outcome of your hospital visit. Hana and Namjoon knew and waited for you to elaborate with sullen expressions.

You bit down on your bottom lip. Sensing your hesitation, Jimin lifted that burden from you by explaining it himself.

He let out a breath and told them, “The doctor is now concerned about a condition called preeclampsia. Without going into too much detail, it really wouldn’t be good for Y/N or the baby. We should have those results in a day or two.”

You looked into your lap. The room went silent for a moment.

“I can’t believe Chaeyoung…” Jin muttered, “All the mess she’s caused.”

“I never would have guessed it was her.” Hoseok agreed.

Jimin closed his eyes, preventing himself from flying off the handle, “Don’t get me started on that right now.”

You rubbed his shoulder as an attempt to ease him up. He was trying to manage your nerves, and you were trying to deal with his. You were determined to help each other, prepared to set your feelings aside in order to help one another cope.

“At least Seoyeon’s statement was decent.” Yoongi remarked.

Jimin groaned, putting his face into his palms, “Fuck, I completely forgot about that being published.”

“What does ‘decent’ mean?” You asked, attentive to his emotions.

He shrugged with arms crossed, “Means it wasn’t provocative. She and her husband said that initial rumor was totally untrue. And there was zero mention of your past relationship with her.”

“Yeah, but any statement from her is basically null and void now,” Jimin huffed, “The purpose was to convince the public that there was no baby on the way. It would have bought us some more time.”

“Well, at least now the public won’t believe that you fathered two children with different women.” replied Yoongi.

Your love had reached his limit. He rose from his seat, unable to withstand any further conversation. He looked down at you and stretched out his hand, “Baby, I think it’s time you get some rest.”

Reluctantly, trying to translate the message in his eyes, you took his hand and let him pull you up, “Okay…”

His faculties were fried, eyes a bit dazed, “Yeah, you need to sleep. Long day.”

The others were taking the cue to head out, rising from their spots. It was inarguable that your eyelids had been feeling heavy, but the abrupt discontinuation left you confused.

Within minutes, the large group filtered out of your home, each of them wishing you both well and giving some final reassurances for the night. You could tell they were a little perplexed and maybe even a concerned about Jimin’s quick change in demeanor, but there was a collective knowledge that it was best to let it be for now. If he needed some space, they weren’t about to protest.

It was the two of you once again.

Jimin had been the one to close the door behind Jin, who was the last one out. He turned back to you, face now reading as apologetic. You looked puzzled as ever.

“I just couldn’t do it anymore,” he said, “I want to sleep.”

You nodded as he came into you, kissing you lightly. He pulled away and you held his face there for a moment, which he relished. His eyes closed, taking comfort in your affectionate touch.

“I’m tired too. Just don’t use me as the scapegoat next time.”

He broke into a chuckle, as did you.

“You weren’t the scapegoat. I wasn’t making anything up. I do have to make sure you get your rest. Those guys would have talked our ears off until sunrise.”

You got ready for bed together. You changed into one of his t-shirts, a plain white one. Standing over the sink, brushing your teeth, you thought nothing of it. That is, until Jimin pointed it out.

He was sitting on the bed in the next room, observing you with an ironic, weary grin, “That’s the t-shirt that started this whole mess, right?”

You looked at it with fresh eyes in the mirror, and then it clicked. This was the shirt you were wearing in the airport, the one that Seoyeon noticed.

You spit into the sink for the last time and shut off the faucet, “I guess it is.”

You heard him mumble, “I have half a mind to burn that thing.”

The following morning, you were out of bed before Jimin was. You made yourself some breakfast and decaffeinated coffee, and perched on the couch. Intentionally starting the day with something less stressful, you were flipping through the baby naming book as you ate. There were a few favorites you had from when the two of you began discussing, and you wanted to look at them again, just to see if you still felt the same about them.

This led to an idea to create a list of everything that needed to be done for your little one. You retrieved a pen and paper, feeling some movements in your womb.

Yawning, you put a hand on your stomach, "Good morning, little love. I'm going to write down some things that Daddy and me need to do before you come to meet us. Let's see...We need to build you a nursery."

As you wrote that down, your imagination drew a picture of what that might look like and you ended up with a soft smile, "I'm thinking a light green for you. What do you think of that, baby? Then we can have a rocking chair in one corner, maybe next to a little bookshelf filled with lots of bedtime stories...Although I have a feeling that Daddy will prefer singing to you, rather than reading."

You took a sip of your coffee, "What else? Oh, we need to stock up on lots of supplies. Diapers, wipes, bottles, burping cloths, onesies, socks...Lots of things, it turns out. At least in this mess, I'll have more time to focus on getting ready for you. I promise I’ll be ready for you.”

The father of this child was standing in the doorway to the master bedroom, having gotten out of bed without making a sound. He wore a tired smile, listening to you make harmless chatter to the baby you were carrying.

“Daddy is more than ready for you,” you said, jotting down the previous items onto the notepad, “Sometimes it feels like he’s more prepared than I am for this. You truly are at the heart of every move he makes. You’ll see…you and I both won the lottery with him. And if you turn out to be a girl, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He couldn’t hold back his chuckle, causing you to break your train of thought and turn your head.

“Sorry,” his hoarse, deep morning voice spoke, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

You smirked and went back to writing, “Less of a conversation, moreso just me babbling, thinking of things that we need to do. Which is a lot, apparently.”

Through puffy lips, he grinned again, “Tell her I love her. I’m going to take a shower.”

As he abandoned his post and went into the master bathroom to wash up, you looked down at your belly and whispered, “See? He loves you more than anything. And don’t forget I love you too.”

You continued to bond with your baby, feeling him or her stretch and wiggle as you went about your business with this list. It gave you something else to focus on, as if you hadn’t been outted to the world less than twenty-four hours prior.

This bubble was short-lived, burst open by the phone call you’d been dreading ever since you found out you were pregnant.

Stomach curling, you answered nervously, “H-Hello?”

“Y/N,” the male voice greeted you, “Good morning. This is Minjun. We met a few days ago in my office?”

“Yes,” you gulped, “I remember.”

There was no point in asking what this was about. The moment had arrived.

“Well, I don’t want to take up much of your time, especially considering recent developments. And I think you know what I must discuss with you, right?”

Though your heart’s pace picked up, you were relieved that Jimin wasn’t around to hear this.

“I do.” you said.

Minjun sighed, telling you that he didn’t take pleasure in this, “You haven’t been with the company long, but you know the rules when it comes to staff relationships, particularly with the artists. I am not blind to the fact that this has been and will continue to be tumultuous for you, but I’m afraid I have no choice but to terminate your employment with us.”

You made no attempt to keep the tears from welling up in your eyes. Blinking, one escaped the confines of your lower lid and fell. However, your voice remained relatively normal.

“I understand. This has been a long time coming. I really wish it could be different, because I’ve loved this job, but…”

You were going to reiterate that you understood why they had to fire you. That you knew they had to enforce their rules, and that you knew why those rules were there in the first place. But then you realized that you didn’t.

You didn’t understand. Yes, you were aware of the industry’s culture and attitudes when it came to dating, but you didn’t agree with it at all. Why was it forbidden for people to fall in love? It made no sense to you.

Minjun asked, “But?”

You considered chewing him out, making him the soundboard for your frustrations. But you couldn’t. If anything, you didn’t have the energy and you wanted to remain calm, for the sake of avoiding another episode like the one you had the day before.

“Nothing.” you replied.

“Very well,” he said, “Now, we need to begin the process of offboarding. We will need you to turn in your work computer, obviously, as well as any documents you may possess. Sketches, notebooks, things like that.”

“My designs?” you asked, “You need all my ideas?”

“The company maintains ownership of intellectual property that was created during a staff member’s tenure.”

You were silent. You had to give up all of your ideas, all your sketches and dribblings. Things that hadn’t yet come into fruition. They weren’t even yours anymore - apparently they never were.

Even so, you were in no shape to argue or get your blood boiling.

“Okay,” you sighed, “Anything else?”

“We understand that you have a health issue to deal with at the moment. Do you think this will have an impact on your ability to come into the office to turn in your things and sit for an exit interview?”

“Um, it might…There’s a possibility that I will be put on bed rest. What would this interview entail?”

Minjun replied, “It would be informal. The purpose would be to get a full understanding of what’s been going on here. Jimin confirmed the gist, but we’d like to be well-rounded in our knowledge of this.”

You couldn’t wrap your brain around that for some reason, “O-Okay…I’ll wait to confirm that until I hear back from my doctor.”

“I see. I’ll reach back out in a few days on that. You’ll be receiving a formal letter of termination via email by the end of the day. We will talk again soon.”

When he hung up the phone, you remained in a state of pause. It had happened, and despite having mentally prepared yourself the best you could, you somehow couldn’t believe it really came to pass. It was over. You’d lost the best job you ever had. No longer could you call yourself a stylist for the world’s most sensational band.

Another tear rolled down your face, yet you didn’t feel particularly emotional. A numbness had taken root somewhere, guarding you from another breakdown episode.

Your little one kicked, and you put your phone down with a sigh. This had to happen, but it was a small price to pay for what you’d been given - a child fathered by the most amazing, enchanting man you’d ever met. You wouldn’t lose sight of that critical fact.

Jimin returned a short while later, dressed and hair blow-dried. You’d gone into the kitchen to find something to eat, though you weren’t hungry. If anything, you just wanted something else to do other than wallow.

He heard you dawdling around in the kitchen as he picked up the list you’d written from the coffee table in the living room.

Eyes trailing down the paper, he cracked a grin and called to you, “This is a very thorough list.”

“Oh,” you said, “Thanks.”

Your tone was far too sullen for his liking. Brows furrowed, he set the notepad down and started towards the kitchen. He found you putting some bread into the toaster.

“What happened, baby? You didn’t go on social media, did you?”

You inhaled deeply and let it out, turning to him, “No, I didn’t go online. Minjun called me just now...”

Jimin’s face fell, knowing what it meant. Inwardly, he was furious that Management didn’t give you more time to breathe, after your episode, but his expression was nothing but disappointment.

Your eyes began to well up again. And as soon as your drew in a hitched breath, he rushed to bring you into his arms. You were pressed against his chest, eyes squeezed shut as you let out a small sob that stole a piece of his heart.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, holding the back of your head and rubbing your hair, “I’m so sorry.”

Your voice was muffled against his shirt, “I just really loved that job. A-And that job led me to you…”

He kissed the outer part of your ear, “You still have me, sweetheart.”

“No, I know,” you sniffled, “I just wish I could stay. It could have been so wonderful, in a different reality. You and me, working at the same place. Our child could come in to be with us sometimes. It could have been so perfect, like a dream.”

“You are a dream to me.”

Though tears were still flowing, you started to smile and laugh a little bit.

“Now what’s so funny?” Jimin asked, confused yet happy to go along with your emotions.

Your tears were soaking his shirt at this point, but you were grinning wider, “Nothing. It’s just…How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Just, make everything brighter for me? Always, always find the right words to say? Every single time.”

He smirked and kissed you again, this time on the top of your head, “All I did was be honest with you.”

You sniffled once more, pulling away from his embrace just enough to allow room for yourself to wrap your arms around his neck. You looked up at him for a moment as he grinned ever so gently, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

His hands then traveled down to the sides of your belly. He glanced down to where your child was, nestled safely in your womb, between the two of you.

Rubbing your bump, he lowered his voice and got lost in his own heart, “In the midst of what can feel like a nightmare, I’ve got all a man could ever ask for. Getting to love a gorgeous woman, with a gorgeous soul. Getting to watch that woman’s belly grow as she carries my child. I get to come home to her now, but in the near future I’ll get to come home to both of them. That is a dream.”

You smiled softly, “I guess every dream has a little bit of nightmare in it.”

He chuckled, “The good and the bad. The sweet, and then the bitter. That’s been our story, huh?”

You nodded, grin fading, “It has.”

Then, simultaneously, your toast popped up and your phone began to ring from the sofa in the other room.

Jimin pecked your forehead, “I’ll make your toast, go see who it is.”

You left his arms to hurry into the living room. Picking up the buzzing and ringing device from the couch, your gut tightened with nerves. This was yet another call you’d been anticipating, only the outcome of this one was uncertain.

“Hello?” you answered, standing up.

“Y/N, good morning,” Doctor Yoon’s pleasant voice greeted you, “Is now a good time?”

Her tone acted as a soothing balm - you definitely found the right doctor.

“Hi, Doctor Yoon,” you said loud enough for Jimin to hear, “Yes, it’s a good time. I’ll put you on speaker.”

Predictably, your boyfriend came rushing into the room as soon as he overheard. His stomach was also in knots, assuming that this call would reveal your lab results. A lot was riding on this - the next few months of both of your lives.

Jimin did his best to sound composed, sitting down and encouraging you to sit beside him, “Hello, Doctor Yoon.”

“Good morning,” she greeted him back, “I’m glad to deliver some positive news for you guys. Y/N’s results have come back pretty normal.”

You both released a sigh of relief, postures loosening. Jimin grinned and kissed your temple.

“That’s wonderful.” you said.

“Yes, I would say you’re pretty fortunate. I’d like you to keep taking that medication and continue to take stress-relieving measures, but there is no diagnosis here.”

“So no bed rest?” Your boyfriend inquired.

“Not formally, no. However, I encourage you to take precaution, Y/N. Even though you don’t need to be in a sedentary state, it would be prudent to rest often. Take naps when you want, no overly strenuous activities. You know, take it easy, but feel free to live your life.”

You closed your eyes and tilted your head down, preventing yourself from scoffing or saying something too negative. Could you really feel free to live your life? Was that even possible at this point?

You pulled it together within seconds and lifted your tone, “Thank you so much. This is really good news.”

The doctor was jubilant, “Of course! Even though we did an ultrasound the other day, I’d still like to keep your appointment for next week. If anything, just to check in on you and keep tabs.”

You’d both forgotten that you had scheduled for her to come over for another ultrasound soon.

“We will see you then,” Jimin agreed on your behalf, “Thank you for everything, Doctor Yoon.”

“My pleasure. If any questions or concerns come up, you can always call.”

When the conversation ended and you hung up, Jimin threw his head back for a moment, basking in this weight lifting from his shoulders. His love and his unborn child were alright.

He chuckled, “What did I tell you, baby? Bad news, and now some really great news. Bitter, and then sweet.”

You offered a meager smile, “And so it goes.”

You didn’t seem quite as celebratory as he was, and he understood - no need to ask you what was the matter.

Jimin pulled you into him and softened his voice, “I’m just glad the two of you are okay. Also, your toast is burnt.”

Breaking into a short giggle, you rested against him, “Oh, good. Well I guess I should call Minjun back. He wanted to schedule an exit interview with me.”

His disdain was immediate and palpable, him parting from you to show you his concerned eyes.

“And you agreed to this?”

You shrugged, “Loosely, yeah. I didn’t really know what to make of it.”

Jimin pinched the small bridge of this nose, “I don’t know why I’m surprised at this point…You know you don’t have to do anything they want, right?”

If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t considered that.

“I know…”

He went on, “Let me guess, Minjun told you they want more information about how this all happened?”

You nodded.

Jimin pulled off that trick of his, where he grinned in order to prevent himself from falling into rage. Shaking his head minimally, he inhaled sharply.

He looked up at the ceiling and then back at you, “They know I won’t be as forthcoming as they’d like me to be. I only told them the basics. I think Minjun wants to see if you’d be more detailed, because he figures he can sort of intimidate you into it.”

You looked down, “I don’t know. I get why they want a full picture…This is a shock to them and they probably are wondering how it happened.”

He took your hand, “I’m not going to tell you what to do. But you should at least realize that you are no longer their employee, and so you are no longer beholden to them. If being in that situation doesn’t sound appealing to you, then you have the right to decline. They don’t get to fire you and then expect you to accommodate them.”

You sighed, “When you put it that way I’m less agreeable to the idea. I’ll think about it. Part of me wants to go in there and tell him to his face, unashamed. And part of me wonders if I should stay away, or if they will use anything I say against me.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Jimin replied, “I know I haven’t had the highest opinion of the company recently, but even I don’t believe they’d stoop that low. It would be like declaring war on their own artist.”

Your brows furrowed, “War?”

He said nothing, giving your hand a squeeze.

#jimin x reader #bts #fanfic #jimin #park jimin #angst #bts fanfic #romance #bts fic

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klutzyroses · 7 months ago

Text

Hold Me Tight Series💖- Vlad

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Vlad x Reader

Word Count: 1160

Summary: She was his flower, the blooming rose of his life. So why were there tears staining her beautiful face?

Tags: Female reader, fluff, cuddles and kisses

Story #2 of the Hold Me Tight series. For the Vlad ladies!

He ambled through the door to the garden, his eyes searching, seeking, then finally finding what he sought. His heart both ached and sank at once when he saw the one he was looking for. He had found her, yes, but he had been hoping to find her in a better state. Smiling, cheerful, at peace, like she always was, rather than this. His beloved lay on the grass, like a wood nymph surrounded by flowers, her hair spread out like a halo. Truly, she was beautiful, he always knew that. None of the flowers that surrounded her could compare and yet…what’s this? Why were there tears glistening her eyes? Why was her chest heaving with the effort of holding them back? His feet, rather soundless in their steps, brought him to her until they were parallel to her head. Her eyes, such beautiful eyes they were, flickered over to him, though she made no effort to get up. She simply stared up at him, that devastating look of sorrow piercing through him. It was no different than looking into the eyes of someone as they were drowning. That's what came to mind because those shining irises were swimming with tears, so much so that they threatened to spill over. There is a look of silent pleading, pleading to pull her out of the depths, before she sunk below where she could not be found.

He soon found himself kneeling carefully by her, maneuvering until he was laying beside her, yet reversed from her position, looking directly into those teary orbs. She turned her head to meet his gaze, wordless, with those lips he loved to kiss pursed tightly together. Yet he could just about detect the slight tremor they had. And soon he felt it firsthand when he leaned his head closer to hers, softly brushing his lips against those plush ones. It wasn't so much a real kiss as it was a brief contact between lips, it could almost be called unintentional, if she didn’t know better. They don’t speak for a moment as he takes her in. Even in emotional distress, she was still beautiful, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to see her sadness disappear.

“Why so sad, my flower? Why have I found the loveliest flower in this garden…wilting?” His voice was soft, filled to the brim with need, with the need to understand, the need to comfort the love of his very long life. He reached across, his fingers skimming across her face, moving a stray strand of hair out of her lovely, melancholic face. She observed him doing so, not saying anything until his hand moved away.

“I’m…I…” She swallowed, worsening the tightening in her throat as her words got stuck, refusing to come out. It was as though she were trying to speak through a mouthful of mud. She watched the red of his eyes, the vibrance of the color, so intense, yet so gentle, so full of adoration that it made her tears fall down her cheek as she bit her lip, as though it would help stem the waterworks.

It didn't. Those eyes she loved softened as he moved, pressing a kiss to her cheek, catching the stream of salted sorrow on his lips. She shuffled a little closer, flipping onto her side to face him, a look of misery taking over her features. Her lips shakily parted to try and speak again, this time succeeding to an extent.

“I’m…I’m alright. I am, really. I just…It's just been a bad day, that’s all.” She took a deep breath and tried giving him a reassuring look, not very effective as her face was so teary and vulnerable. His eyes softened more, though his face was patient, a little hard to read, yet attentive, from what she could tell. She didn't know what else to tell him really, if she was being honest. She didn’t have a concrete reason for her current mood, none that was coherent enough to verbalise in any case. It was embarrassing to have him see her this way. So broken up over what she perceived to not be such a big deal. Not worth laying here, crying her eyes out, she couldn’t help but feel pathetic about it. But she didn’t have time to dwell on that when she again felt the brush of his lips on her cheek. She instinctively closed her eyes when they caressed her once more, rising slowly and surely as they left tender, barely there kisses towards her tear laden eyes.

“Vlad…” A timid murmur, barely audible, would've been missed if she weren’t so close to him. Yes, close to him and not just meaning the physical proximity. She was always with him, as far as he was concerned, she never strayed far from his thoughts. And he wouldn’t have it any other way, in fact, he’d brought up the idea of her spending eternity by his side, to be with him always.

“Will you tell me about it? Allow me to make it better?” Such sweetness coated his voice, the sound carrying her away from the pain, just for a moment as if to allow her a reprieve. She couldn’t deny such a tempting offer, tinged with a hint of the innocent desire to make his beloved feel better, yet also contained the protective need found in a man who worried for his lover.

“Please…make the pain go away. Just for a little while.” She knew what she was asking of him and she knew that he understood what she was asking of him and he was more than happy to oblige. Turning to face her head on, he murmured softly to her.

“Sleep on the edge of dreams.” Plunging her into a peaceful world where it was just the two of them, the endless blue sky and the river of flowers in bloom, surrounding them with comforting scents. But all paled in comparison to him.

To her, there was nothing that could comfort her the way he did with just his presence, the subtle timbre of his voice, the rose of his eyes, that were tenderly gazing upon her. She sighed in contentment as her forehead rested against his, her eyes fluttering closed as a last rogue tear slid down her face, just for him to catch it.

She remained awake, despite having her eyes closed, because she didn't want to miss a single moment with him. And he knew it too, because he didn't stop his adoring whispering, the sweet words melting her sadness away, making her wonder why she hadn't just gone to him to begin with, when he was so good at making the pain go away.

“Just for a moment, let me make the pain go away. Stay with me, in this beautiful world, where nothing can hurt you.”

And she was more than happy to give in to that request.

Just for a moment.

🌸

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp vlad #hold me tight series- ikemen vampire

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sylusonychinus · 2 months ago

Note

One more nezusylus fic for you! This one is based on the raven king and our little discussions on babby shu in this au

Cw// rebellions, blood, pregnancy, childbirth, a heavily pregnant nezu

Rebellions rarely occurred in Onychinus. Sylus squashed them down quickly enough before they could proliferate to the other provinces. He was brutual with his methods, reminding his subjects of the consequences should they chose to cross his paths.

When he married and settled down with Nezu, squashing rebellions and disputes wasn't a job he'd do alone. She was by his side, a guiding light in the midst of the smoke and fire. The wisdom he needed when judgement clouded his perceptions. With the children being added into the mix, they had to make sure that the kingdom was stable and safe enough for the children to inherit one day when they get older.

Rumors began to spread of a new rebellion due to the increasing taxes and their method of collection. It had began with a few grumbles that turned into rants in the taverns that turned into sercreted meetings until it all reached the imperial palace and their ears.

"A rebellion?" Nezu said with worry as she sat down in Sylus' office. The children had gone to sleep hours ago, leaving themselves awake. Her purple hair was braid to the side, a dark red robe sat on her shoulders. A striking combination of colors. The moonlight hit the window, making her heavily pregnant stomach glow with a sense of serenity. It was their third child biologically, a girl, Nezu and the midwives suspected.

"Have you squashed it?" She asked next.

Sylus sighed, rubbing his temples. "I haven't yet, my love—I am trying but this one in particular isnt cooperating with me." He glanced at the maps, inspecting with careful and precsise eyes before sighing again.

"I'll do it." Nezu offered. "You need to rest. That's why everything is confusing to you. Youre too tired."

Sylus tried to argue but she shushed him down. "I am your empress. They are still my people. Let me help you."

He coincided. Nezu rose up from her chair, her hand on her back as she shuffled towards his seat to help him. She analysed plans, reviewed information countless times, and made through inspections.

Yet as the seasons changed into winter and as the family moved to their winter palace, the rebellion grew and followed them there.

It was a quiet January afternoon. The family curled up in the fire. The twins are tired from their pranks and plays. Amelia was curled up in her father's arms. Daniel read a book beside his mother, his soft words filling the room as he tried to read to his unborn sibling. Nezu smiled, rubbing her stomach to soothe her uncomfortable pains with one hand and patting Daniel's head with pride.

"Your imperial highness." A servant bursted into the room breaking the silence. Sylus settled Amelia down and quickly went with the servant who brought news he had been dreading to hear.

The rebellion follwed them here.

Sylus called for the servants and the healers, instructing them to take the children and Nezu and bring them to safety in the safe rooms should they invade the inside of the palace. He dismissed the servant off and went back to them.

"What's the matter?" Nezu asked but she knew all the answers from his expression alone. She got up, ignoring the worsening pain. She knew those pains, having given birth twice before with Amelia and Daniel but she chose to ignore it. It was still early enough that she can move and not too uncomfortable enough yet.

"Take care of yourself." She whispered and kissed him. "As much as I'd want to squash this rebellion with you, I have four— well, almost five littles to take care of."

Sylus nodded. He kissed all of them a quick goodbye and see you later. He even kissed Nezu's stomach and held it for a while.

"Behave." He said firmly. "Behave for your mother at the very least."

Nezu had her own battles to fight as well. While Sylus was squashing down the rebellion and dealing with people who disrepected his authority and punishing those connected, she was thrown in the midst of childbirth. She called for the children's nanny, ordering her to distract the children while she and the servants find a quiet and clean place for her.

She was in agony, crying and screaming, mumbling prayers to every god who can hear her. In the midst of the growing chaos, Sylus reappeared, blood staining his clothes as he dropped his sword and rushed to her side.

"Sylus—" She managed to say before groaning once more from the pain. "This baby of yours—"

Sylus approached, and nodded. "I know...i know..." He adjusted himself, making Nezu lean against his chest. "Am I just in time to meet my child?"

Nezu nodded slowly, groaning from the pain. Her vision turned white as pain shot through her. She continued to cry and strain herself, bringing forth a new heir once more.

"Are they alright?" Nezu asked with worry. "Theyre not...theyre not crying..."

The main midwife nodded. "Yes, your imperial highness. The little princess lives. Its normal for some babies not to cry when they get born. Shes alive, your imperial highness."

Nezu cried, feeling the small bundle in her chest. Their new baby, born during the eclipse. The tiny baby looked exactly like her, making her proud that for once her genetics had won the fight. She glanced at Sylus, seeing his immediate relief turn into joy and satisfaction.

"Look at her..." Nezu whispered. "I love her already. My little Shu."

Sylus nodded and smiled. "I love her as well. Our little Shu."

i would like to say thos yes she was born in chaos and she is the miracle baby id like to add that sylus was nearly lost in this rebellion and that they were breaching the castle walls the room where nezu was giving birth to was the catacombs to the safe house but as nezu was giving birth the rebelion people reached her and was about to strike when sylus saved them and was in time to see babby shu AND YES I AM NOW CANON

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wolfertinger · 5 months ago

Note

I appreciate everyone sharing what I published recently. I did not do what I did for self gain, but in the hopes that victims can get some peace of mind and feels more safe in their environments.

Callout culture can be toxic and used maliciously in the hands of those who do not deserve or need platforms, but it is essential in holding people accountable for their disturbing and harmful behaviors. I am an advocate for people doing whatever they wish AS LONG AS it does not harm themselves or others in the process; this being physically, or in most cases mentally.

No one is a saint, it is vital to realize this as some of us have made ignorant choices in the past, but we must not condemn those who are choosing to better themselves for the sake of their quality of life and for those around them. This does of course exclude behaviors that are inhumane pedophilia, grooming, Zoophilia, paraphilia, pro shipping (act of shipping morally wrong things such as incest, pedophilic ships, etc) the extreme list of things; or those who exhibit no will or desire to change their behavior.

I will also be answering a question/speculation Ive been seeing; I myself do not know the exact reasons why Majora is scared of me. Majora not anyone else has made an effort to contact me. The only problem I had is when the first callout was posted, they had the doc mass reported( NEVER POST THE ORIGINAL DOC. Post a PDF to keep it from being mass reported). In the past Majora has harassed and bullied victims alongside close friends, even going as far as to get victims to delete callouts due to consistent harassment and bullying. Majora and I used to be mutuals for a long while, and I’m very glad I never grew close to them. I wasn’t online much at all for most of the friendship (Majora denied our friendship, there is proof otherwise. Both proud of the friendship at all of course, but it adds on to the fact Majora and the others are avoiding me), which is why I never knew exactly what was going on behind the scenes, and when I saw the full picture I decided to gather up a few folks and get to work. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, and wasn’t sure if it would work, but months down the road here we are.

Now; I theorize that Majora is most likely terrified of me because 1: I’ve brought some of her most well known victims together and have fought for them, and 2: Harassing me does not work and have made it clear I refuse to delete anything. These are my only theories as of right now.

At the end of the day, it’s important to fight to make communities safe and happy again. Stop the spread of negativity, stop thriving in ignorance as education & communication is key, and deplatform shitty people; we must recognize we cannot use our identities or our existence as shields. It does not matter who you are, what you identify as, what you look like, where you’re from, or where you’re coming and going… if you do fucked up things, there are consequences to your actions. They’ll catch up eventually.

Send love to the victims during these trying times, I will be opening up a support group soon on discord. Where everyone can come together and support one another. I’m here if anyone needs me.

Much love, Sal.

thank you for your strength. it is difficult, to be the "face" of something so serious. especially regarding an individual, that is clearly willing to hurt others, in order to silence them.

i feel, majora buddying with salem, is almost a move of self preservation more than anything. it is trying to use salems platform as a shield. and salem, is only feeding into majora's worsening abuses. salem's pattern of supporting abusers, especially when he willfully and purposefully ignores their victims, is only going to get him into more situations like these.

despite claiming to care about victims of abuse, and having delusions of facing these abuses, himself. he has yet to show any care for any victims, at all.

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boopiemadz · 7 days ago

Note

receipt that permission was given because there will be asks following this one…hope that’s okay…(no pressure obviously.)

anyway the “ask” for this is that I need more info on Chelsea and Lane!! (And Harper ofc <3) how did Chelsea get so sick??? did Lane ever care for her?? Why would he kill her IN FRONT OF HARPER??

So many ?s…im just so curious

EERRGG NO NEVER APOLOGIZE ! ! ! love your name in my inbox <3

let me cook:

Chelsea's fever~

~Ok so this idea come to me as Chelsea is my irl bsf (who i forced to watch yelowjackets) inserted into my AU (they are nothing a-like but that doesnt matter) We agreed it would be very depressing if she died in the wilderness... so thats what we settled on.

~When I was branstorming on the 'how' she dies I immediatly thought about how we havent seen ONE person die of some sort of illness yet, like huh?!?! So thats what I went with initially.

~Then when I added in Lane to the lore and started diving into his devolution I realized I had the perfect oppurtunity to give him a 'lottie hits guy with an axe' moment.

~But back to her sickness. She gets sick halfway through season 3 ish. basically what Ive gathered (making this up rn but thats basically how I make everything else) is that Harper (slay) and Travis were broken up at this point (they be on and off again) and due to Harpers concern for Travis and his recent obsession with the wilderness, she talked Chelsea into following Lottie, Akilah and Travis to the caves just to ensure they were safe.

~It was during one of those trips she 'tripped' on a branch and was then on the forest floor with a gnarly gash on her shin. After this she lost track of the group she was following, so in an attempt to either get back to camp or to the cave system she started wandering.

~Unfortunatly she did neither and stumbled upon a creek. And she fell in. (Shes VERY clumsy... like very)

~This creek plus the injury she had caused a bacterial infection to enter her bloodstream, even with mistys first aid they had no antiseptic, or anti-biotic to administer, so dispite their best efforts the infection spread and became a full blown illness resulting in many symptoms including the worsening fever the now bedridden girl had been in and out of for weeks.

Lanes relationship with Chelsea~

~So as I kinda hinted to in the story of how Lane kills Chelsea, Lane doesnt really like Chelsea.

Heres a little family tree (its kinda confusing):

Harper -> Lane (stepbrother)

Harper -> Chelsea (bestfriend)

Harper -> Travis (love interests)

Chelsea -> Travis (cousin)

Lane -> Chelsea (stepsisters bestfriend)

Lane -> Travis (casual friends)

~Its not that Lane has anything against Chels, he just doesnt like many people. He only tolerates few and is more of a loner (which is why he gets along with Travis)

~The reason Harper makes this remark when he enters the hut Harper and Chels are in is because during their time in the wilderness he has become even MORE irratible. Due to his descent into madness his tolerance has gone WAY down.

~Its important to note his psychosis isnt obvious to others, he keeps it to himself but this outburst (killing someone...) was the breaking poiint, when he finally snapped and showed very clearly his devotion to the wilderness. Though because Harper knows him so well she has had LOTS of suspicions and has continually voiced her concerns but gave up as his behavious never changed.

~So in this hightened state of delusion, Chelsea's sometimes irratating jokes and attempts to snarkily draw Lane out of his shell just got to him. Everyone in the camp knew that he stayed away from her leading up to her death, he found her even when sick to be an annoyance due to her never relenting sarcasm.

~And then the murder... yeah he basically sees a antler-queen like figure in his camera that night and heard it speak "she's not needed" when he pointed the lens to the hut Chelsea was stationed in. So yeah...

And as for him killing her infront of Harper...

~She js happened to be there. He didnt plan on killing Chels but was being 'haunted' by this voice and felt the only way to stop/please it was to kill. And Harper happened to be caring for her friend during that moment.

~Also important to note he does HEAVILY regret this after he snaps out of psychosis, he loves Harp and would never want to hurt her nor anyone. Its not in his nature. But his psyche was so broken he wasnt in control, he tolerated Chelsea, maybe even enjoyed her presence back home. But something about those woods made him do things (like helping burn down the cabin) he would never do.

This turned out so long and detailed wth- woops. Not complaining tho it helped me fleshout some stuff I myself wasnt sure about so TY!

#Lin🧸🍓#love infodumping about ppl you may not even be interested about slay #bleh #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fandom #viral #fanfiction #oc #yellowjackets original character #original character #lore #oc lore #lore dump #ty for the req #ily

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anxiousgaypanicking · 1 year ago

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Tail

Moceit (Patton x Janus) Hypnovember 2020 Day Fourteen: Tail Warnings: hypnosis, pet play, plugs, barking, blowjobs, humping, crying

Though Janus's eyes look as though they're focused on the TV in front of him, he's truthfully staring at Patton in his peripheral. As some generic host drones on and on on the screen, Janus pats his hand against his thigh, mostly just a subconscious action.

He'd been doing it for the past few minutes, but had only recently realized Patton was staring at him. Staring at his hand.

He was doing it noticeably, too, head turned fully to look at Janus. While Janus was good at being subtle, Patton absolutely was not, and so Janus seized the opportunity to observe his strange behavior. Patton was the one who'd turned this (otherwise uninteresting) show on; why would he pay more attention to Janus's hand than an engaging television series?

Finally, as the show goes to commercial, Janus turns to Patton, who's face flushes as his eyes dart up to meet Janus's.

"Oh!" Patton exclaims, as though he's been caught doing something he's not supposed to, despite Janus having said naught. "Sorry."

Janus raises an eyebrow. "For what?"

That has Patton closing his lips immediately, and turning to look at the television. He shrugs instead of answering, but that only furthers Janus's curiosity. As Janus hits his palm against his thigh again, Patton's head is immediately whipping towards him once more.

That has Janus humming in amusement. "Do you want to sit on my lap or something?"

His playful comment only worsens Patton's flush, who stammers over an answer before his hands come to play with the sleeves of his cardigan. Patton reacts like Janus patting his lap is an invitation, in such a way that Janus equates him to a cute puppy, though that though additionally stems from just how embarrassed Patton seems to be at his own actions, like they're involuntary.

Janus doesn't even bother to hide his amusement, a grin spreading across his face. After a few moments of Patton's flustered silence, Janus playfully murmurs "you know, typically, when someone asks a question, they expect an answer."

"Sorry," Patton squeaks.

Janus chuckles. "Is your attention truly so easily captured by someone patting their thigh? How cute."

Patton stumbles in response, unsure how to answer. Luckily, Janus keeps talking, giving him little opportunity to respond.

"Patting your lap is commonly how one would get the attention of some yappy little puppy! Patting at their thighs, baby talking the thing." Janus hums, glancing at the television, before looking back at Patton. "Honestly, if there was a cute little dog around, I'd be a lot more entertained with it than with whatever's on TV right now."

Janus motions to the slop shining over their screen.

"Neither of us are paying much attention to it, anyway."

In order to emphasize this point, Janus softly drums on his thighs with the palms of his hands, this time directly staring at Patton. Teasingly, Janus asks "what urges are plaguing your mind right now, love?" smirking slightly, he's quick to add "and would you like to act on them?"

He's overly confident in his words, despite the fact it's stemming from a rather intense bit of speculation, considering Patton hasn't implied in the slightest he'd be willing to do something so forward.

And admittedly, Patton's initial response has Janus briefly doubting his assumption, wondering if he perhaps overstepped. He's staring at Janus, mouth agape, unsure where to focus his gaze, and so his eyes flicker nervously around the room.

And yet, rather surprisingly, Patton scoots closer after a few moments, pausing just short of Janus's thighs. It has Janus letting out a closed mouth chuckle, before he teasingly asks "do you need help, love?" already moving to slide his hands around Patton's waist, and with a bit of effort guide Patton onto his lap. Patton's hands quickly find and grasp Janus's shoulders, with his legs straddling Janus's thighs.

Janus's hands rub over Patton's pudgy stomach, before sliding up his sides. He cocks his head to the side, grinning at Patton. "Are you satisfied now?" he inquires, though his words are overly playful. "I could tell you'd been wanting to sit in my lap for the past fifteen minutes, at least."

Patton chews his inner cheek, before softly mumbling "yeah."

Janus lets out a pleased hum, continuing to rub over Patton's stiff body, before he murmurs "you're like a puppy." And when Patton perks up, overly interested in the comparison, Janus continues. "A dumb puppy," he clarifies, pushing his knuckles teasingly against Patton's temple, "who just wants to sit on his owner's lap, and be held. Do you want to be pet, too?"

Janus's hands stop their rubbing, awaiting Patton's answer.

But Patton just shifts his position on Janus's lap, avoiding eye contact as he replies "no! No, of course not. That's-" Patton bites his bottom lip, before taking in a deep breath, and turning to face Janus fully. "You're being silly. I think... I think I just want affection right now. Normal, standard affection."

Smile falling, Janus gives Patton a rather dramatic pout at the answer. "What a shame," he sighs, leaning back against the couch cushions; his hands are still on Patton's hips. "Having a puppy around to pet would entertain me quite a bit." Janus then bitterly flicks his wrist towards the TV. "Much more than whatever's on the tele."

"You can change the show if you don't like it," Patton quickly insists, but Janus just squeezes Patton's waist firmly in turn.

"There isn't any way I could possibly reach the remote now," Janus argues, though he holds Patton tight enough that Patton couldn't slide off of Janus even if he tried. "Besides, petting a puppy sounds way more fun than watching TV. And I'm lucky to have a rather cute puppy right in front of me! You are a cute puppy, right?"

Patton hides his face, attempting to obscure his bright red cheeks.

Janus ignores his embarrassment, and keeps speaking. "The main type of affection puppies receive is petting, love. It's the type of affection a puppy like you would crave. But... if you don't want that, that's fine by me."

Janus shrugs, and then shifts to get comfortable, before dropping his hands away from Patton's body.

He lets Patton just sit there for a moment, while Janus leans partially to the side in order to act like he's watching television, even though the show was in fact incredibly boring. However, Patton shifting around on his lap at the sudden loss of attention is anything but, and Janus has to bite back a grin when a whimper slips past Patton's lips.

"Fine," Patton finally says, rather meekly. He's playing with his fingers. "If... if you really want to, then I guess you can... I guess you can pet me."

He struggles to say it, but his eventual admission (and subtle shift of the blame from his own wants to Janus's) are incredibly cute, and so Janus lets it slide.

Leaning closer to Patton, Janus's hands plant themselves back on Patton's waist, and pets over his body a lot more sensually than before. His hands rub over Patton's ribs, around his back, and then over his waist. With his hands around Patton's midsection, Janus pulls Patton closer, until they're pressed chest-to-chest. Then, his hands are sliding down further, caressing his lower back and upper ass, before his palms circle around to Patton's spread thighs.

Janus is confident with all of his touches, which further encourages Patton to avoid meeting Janus's eyes, even though he's very noticeably enjoying himself as Janus feels him up. And he lets himself be touched casually for a bit. That is, until Janus is leaning his head against Patton's soft chest, tilting his face upwards with knowing eyes. His hands still against Patton's legs, and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Whispering, Janus says "I know you like this, but... I have a feeling you want a little more."

Janus very lightly squeezes at Patton's thighs, pushing his thumbs slowly into the fat, and rubbing deep, firm circles into his legs. "Lucky for you," he continues, "I have a wonderful idea. Would you like to hear it?"

Patton's still visibly flushed, especially at Janus's implications that he himself might want more (which is an overly accurate assessment), but he slowly nods his head.

He squeaks when Janus finally runs his hand over his crotch in turn, teasing the front of Patton's khaki pants and rubbing over what is obviously the start of an erection. While touching him so lewdly, Janus insists "I know how to turn you into a proper puppy. Sure, you're acting like one, but you don't look the part."

Janus suddenly squeezes Patton's bulge, making Patton gasp and moan as his fingers curl around Janus's shoulders.

"And once you're nothing but a cute, dumb pup, I'll get to spend all day taking care of you," which are words Janus emphasizes by rubbing more harshly over Patton's front, making Patton buck his hips as he tries to rock his clothed cock into Janus's hand. "Would that be something you'd enjoy, my dear?"

"Yes!" Patton shudders, rolling his hips against Janus's palm. "Please!"

With a rather enthusiastic verbal agreement, Janus has no qualms in pushing Patton off his lap, and standing up, pulling Patton up off the couch before releasing him and beginning to walk towards his room. And when Patton doesn't immediately follow, Janus turns to face him.

With an amused look on his face, Janus pats his thighs, saying "come on, boy. Aren't you excited to come with me? Excited to get a nice treat?"

Patton visibly shivers, but quickly shuffles forward, until he's at Janus's side, and following him obediently to his room, his face bright red. As they walk - both of them fast-paced and thrilled in their own right - Janus praises Patton, offering soft compliments such as "what a good puppy!" and "such a good listener," which has Patton tugging at the collar of his shirt, feeling as though he might start panting if Janus is any more casual with this.

Once they're in Janus's room, the door is being pushed shut, and Janus is already moving towards his closet.

"Be a good boy and strip for me, won't you?" Janus asks, as he sifts through his closet, luckily finding a headband with attached puppy ears and a tail plug - which he's been keeping on-hand "just in case" - as well as a thick collar.

Patton undoes his clothes slowly, but manages to get fully nude by the time Janus turns back to him, arms full of accessories. As Janus lays them on the mattress, he guides Patton to sit on the edge of his bed beside them, and praises Patton for being so obedient when he does.

Patton's thighs press together as Janus lifts the headband first and foremost, and turns it side-to-side to show Patton how the cute, blonde puppy ears move.

He slides them into Patton's hair, careful not to accidentally pull and hurt him, until the band is nestled perfectly atop Patton's hair. Janus's fingers then pet through Patton's locks, rousing his curls until the headband itself looks mostly hidden, and the two ears look like they're sprouting from Patton's own head. Then, he's taking the collar and clamping it around Patton's neck, with a nice, long leash being hooked on one of the loops quickly after.

Janus gives it a firm tug, Patton being yanked forward, before the leash is dropped and Janus is smiling, satisfied with the way Patton moans at the brief choking sensation.

"Flip yourself over for me, love," Janus then instructs him, as he grabs some lube from his nightstand. "Bend yourself over the bed."

Doing as he's told - like a good puppy would - Patton turns over, his feet hitting the floor and his chest hitting the sheets. As he presses his body into the bed, the collar presses into his neck, making him while. But what really excites him is when Janus's hands squeeze his ass, before one hand gropes and spreads his cheeks apart, while Janus's fingers - coated with an excess amount of lube - presses against his hole.

Janus is teasing at first, circling his index finger around Patton's entrance, before slowly pushing his pointer and middle finger in, scissoring Patton slowly and carefully.

Patton moans as he feels Janus's fingers curl inside of him, and gasps loudly when the tips of his fingers suddenly push against his prostate. He goes to beg for more, but Janus is already giving it to him before he can, slowly thrusting his fingers against that spot while Patton's cock rubs against the side of the bed.

"Please," Patton moans, as he grips the mattress tightly, drooling when Janus adds a third finger, stretching Patton open.

But after just another minute or two, Janus's fingers are slipping out. Patton whines at the sudden loss, and opens his mouth to complain, only to suddenly feel a plug be pushed inside of him moments later, and fur brush against his ass.

Janus leans over him, jostling the plug as he both rubs Patton's waist, and pets through his hair. "There," he proclaims, sounding overly proud. "Now you look like a proper puppy. Isn't this wonderful?"

It's hard for Patton to look at Janus while feeling overwhelmed with humiliation, but he still feels compelled to react to Janus's question, and so nods his head.

This is wonderful, albeit embarrassing.

He gasps a little out of surprise when Janus presses his hand firmly against Patton's back and pushes his chest farther into the bed, humming in thought for a moment before pulling back and stating "hm. This simply won't do."

As his hands slide away from Patton's body, Patton is turning his head to face Janus, worriedly asking "what's wrong?"

His voice is trembling, revealing his desperation. He doesn't want this to stop - he feels more aroused than he's ever felt in his life! - but Janus's tone is making him nervous. He briefly worries if he's messing this up somehow, especially as Janus stares at his exposed body, as if evaluating him.

"You're so, so close to being the perfect puppy, but you're still a little... off," Janus explains, tapping at his chin. His eyes are narrow as he scans over Patton's back, and meets his eyes briefly, before Janus is maneuvering Patton onto his back instead, chuckling in amusement at the way Patton immediately squeezes his thighs shut to hide his hard cock. This new position - with his hips further up on the bed - causes the plug inside of him to shift around, making Patton whimper.

Patton's rush to hide his body though has Janus suddenly lighting up, and going "this is what I mean! A proper puppy would just pant and drool-" Janus slides between Patton's legs and slowly pushes them apart "-and keep their legs spread like a good mutt. But you're held back by that silly mind of yours, which still insists you're a human with pride and dignity."

Janus runs his hand up Patton's stomach. "Will you even bark for me, love? Go on. Bark."

Face going bright red at the command, Patton can only muster a squeak, being silenced by his own humiliation. He can't bark for Janus, regardless of how hot the command is. It's too embarrassing! So, instead, he murmurs a soft "sorry! I'm sorry. I can't."

He covers his face with his hands, while Janus rubs over Patton's stomach softly, attempting to silently comfort him. Then his hands slide up further, and he pulls Patton's hands away in order for Janus to kiss his lips.

"I'll help you," Janus assures him, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'll ease you into becoming a perfect, obedient puppy, but you have to trust me."

"Okay," Patton whispers.

Janus helps him sit up. "Relax, love. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Trust me. Trust me. Do you want me to help you, Patton? Would you like me to turn into a shameless, obedient pup?"

Patton nods, but Janus just chuckles.

"Speak, puppy. Yes or no."

"Yes. Yes, please," Patton stammers, and in turn has his chin tilted up by Janus, enough so that he meets Janus's eyes. And spirals activate within Janus's irises.

They swirl and spin in such a mesmerizing way, captivating Patton entirely and causing him to breathe in heavily, and breathe until his chest feels empty. Janus guides him to relax further, telling him his body is so heavy; so heavy he can hardly move. His brain is empty and open, waiting to be filled by Janus's words. And once Patton's dizzy and drooling, Janus blinks away the spirals in his eyes, and rummages around for the plug's remote. One he didn't tell Patton about, as to not spoil the surprise.

Without hesitation, he's suddenly turning the plug to the highest setting.

Patton's body arches, a sluggish, loud moan spilling from his lips, but he's been walked so deep into a trance that he's luckily not broken out of it. Janus would pat himself on the back for his trancing skills if he wasn't already so enraptured by Patton's blank, mindless stare, and his cute, pleasured jerks as the plug buzzes inside of him.

"I'm going to take care of you," Janus coos, thumbing away a trail of spit that's leaking steadily from Patton's mouth. "You'll be a proper, silly pet. Are you excited?"

He's not surprised when Patton doesn't answer with anything other than a tired moan, gasping when Janus's finger rubs over Patton's slit, with his other hand slowly clicking the intensity of the vibrator down. Once it's to the midway point, Janus speaks once more.

"The higher the intensity of your cute little plug gets, the dumber you get. Do you understand that?" Janus lowers the vibrations lower, and lower, until they've nearly stopped completely. "Each time that buzzing gets more and more intense, more and more of your thoughts will slip away. Your shame will, too. You'll be an obedient, barking mutt after just a few rounds. Okay, puppy?"

Janus raises the intensity a bit, watching as Patton's eyes roll back into his head, before he adds "you won't have any embarrassment or inhibitions stopping your urge to hump and rut against the nearest surface. You're just a puppy; of course you want as much pleasure as possible!" The vibrator speeds up, and suddenly Patton's hips buck, looking as though he's struggling to stay sitting up. "The only thoughts in your head are about how you're a good, cute puppy, and you love to obey your owner."

He flicks the vibrator up more, and watches Patton stupidly try to hump the air, cock straining for attention.

Janus flicks the intensity up again, making Patton cry out as he's forced deeper and deeper into an obedient, shameless, puppy mindset. Then, the vibrations slow, until Patton's cock is leaking just as much as his mouth is.

Janus thumbs a bead of pre away from Patton's cock, and then holds his thumb in front of Patton's mouth.

"Lick, puppy," Janus commands him, and watches as Patton stupidly leans forward, taking Janus's finger into his mouth and sucking over it desperately, his tongue slobbering all over Janus's digit until Janus pulls it away. As a reward, his plug is turned up again, until it's at about a medium level. Enough to be noticeable, but not enough to overwhelm Patton sooner than Janus wishes to. After all, there's quite a lot he wants to do with Patton; it'd be a shame to have him overstimulated too early!

"Puppies love to be pet," Janus then says, cementing his words into Patton's brain. "They love to bark, they love to obey, they love to crawl and kneel and pant. And they love to be pet."

He then gently runs his hands up Patton's thighs, and is delighted when Patton's tongue rolls out of his mouth, a dumb smile on his face and his eyes nearly crossed. He happily pants at the touch and tries to lean into it. Moaning, Patton arches into Janus's hands as they caress his stomach, moaning in excitement as Janus's fingers brush over his body.

He feels so good, and that's all he cares about.

Not the drool dripping off his chin and onto his thighs, or the way he obediently keeps his legs spread to make sure Janus has more room to rub him everywhere, which Janus does. Janus slides his hand anywhere he can reach, cupping Patton's face, stroking his hair, groping his chest; Janus's palms glide anywhere but his cock. Then, he uses his hands to alter Patton's positions. He moves Patton fully onto the bed, and then onto his knees, with Janus wiggling his face mockingly once Patton is kneeling on the mattress.

As he brushes some of Patton's curls out of his face, Janus asks aloud "do you know how to do any tricks, love?"

As expected, the only response Janus gets is a mindless, drooling smile, and soft moans as Patton lightly fucks himself back on his plug. Janus can't help but admire just how cute Patton looks, but only appreciates the view for just a moment before going "speak, puppy. I want an answer."

He watches as the command takes a moment to register in Patton's mind, before Patton excitedly barks, not seeing anything remotely humiliating about it!

He's a puppy, and good puppies bark!

"Good boy!" Janus immediately praises him, scratching the underside of Patton's chin with two of his fingers. "You're so good. Do you know what good boys do when they're happy?"

Patton looks a little confused at the question, not having any thoughts in his brain aside from what's already been put there, but his confusion just encourages Janus to sweetly call him "a silly boy," as he shakes his head back and forth with amusement.

"A good puppy wags their tail when they're excited," Janus generously explains. "Can you show me how you wag your tail, pup?"

Almost immediately, Patton is pushing more of his weight onto his arms in order to lift his hips up, and wiggles clumsily back and forth, enough to have the tail inside of him swaying side to side. He quickly falls into the rhythm of doing it and becomes more absent-minded and excited, moaning as he feels the plug jostle and shift inside of him.

"Good boy," Janus coos, before he steps away. "Though, last I checked, pets aren't allowed on the furniture. And here you are, sitting on my bed! Silly mutt; you belong on the floor."

Janus pats his thigh, calling Patton to his side, and watching as Patton looks over the edge of the bed, before carefully sliding off of it, and landing on his knees on the floor. Eagerly, he crawls forward until he's seated before Janus's thighs. As a reward, Janus flicks the vibe up again, and watches as Patton cries out in pleasure, his head lolling dumbly to the side.

"Do you want a treat, puppy?" Janus then asks, already reaching to undo his zipper. "A treat for being so good? Bark for me; tell me you want a treat."

With drool streaming steadily down his chin, Patton barks, before smiling happily, feeling good when he obeys.

Janus pets through Patton's hair, whispering soft praises at him in a babying, almost mocking way, but Patton can only understand Janus's tone, and Janus seems happy, so Patton is happy. He pants as he's pet, while Janus works his pants down just enough to pull his cocks out.

He guides Patton closer by his hair, until Patton's sitting back on his calves in front of Janus's hard cocks. Patton stares at them, almost entranced, before cocking his head up at Janus and rubbing his hand over Janus's leg the same way a puppy would paw at someone's thigh. Janus chuckles at the impatience, but doesn't scold Patton for it, instead musing at his desperation.

However, after a few seconds of nothing, Patton leans forward to lick over them, giving into his arousal and instincts. This immediately gets him scolded though, as Janus pushes him back by his forehead.

"Bad puppy," Janus tsks, though softens a bit when Patton shrinks at the chastising. "You're not allowed to move without my permission. Good, obedient puppies listen to their owners. Don't you want to be a good, obedient puppy?"

Patton barks quietly at first, hips rolling against the floor, before barking louder with a mixture of apology and desperation, eyes struggling to stay focused up at Janus's face when all he wants to stare at is his treat.

Patton whimpers as Janus keeps his palm rested against his forehead, pouting as he stares at Janus's cocks, before looking up at Janus with wide eyes behind his circular frames. He attempts to push his nose against Janus's wrist to be affectionate, and when Janus pulls his hand away, Patton rubs his face against Janus's thigh instead, making cute whining noises as he does so. And Janus really can't resist him any longer.

So, he runs his hand down to Patton's collar, and grabs his leash, twisting it around his hand a few times until he's got a firm grip on it, and Patton's pulled close to him.

The tips of his cocks bump against Patton's mouth, teasing him. Antagonizing him. But Janus just softly counts down from three, before going "go ahead, puppy. Accept your treat," once he reaches "one." And Patton does, immediately rubbing his face against Janus's shaft like a whore. His tongue sloppily drags over the slits of his cocks, before he suckles on the tips of them, and then pulls away, a thin line of spit connecting his lips to Janus's cocks.

He crosses his eyes in order to stare up at Janus, panting happily with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Janus reaches his free hand over Patton's head, briefly scratching behind his faux puppy ears, before suddenly grabbing a fistful of Patton's hair and properly shoving one of his cocks into Patton's mouth. He lets the other drag across Patton's face, rubbing Patton's own spit back into his foreheads as beads of Janus's pre drip into his hair.

He winds up more of Patton's leash so that Patton doesn't have enough room to pull away, and makes Patton moan at the pleasant, tightening sensation around his neck, as well as the way Janus's cock feels pressing against his tongue and pushing deep into his throat.

It makes his already foggy head feel even fuzzier. He gags, but he's hardly aware of it, and doesn't bother trying to pull away in the slightest. Because he doesn't want to. He wants his treat.

Patton’s messy and intense with his sucking, moaning when Janus guides him fully down, making him choke around the base of Janus’s cocks, nose pressed against Janus’s pelvis, before Janus loosens his grip on the leash and lets Patton pull away.

Once more, he has to push on Patton’s head to keep him from immediately going back down.

Patton whimpers and whines when he’s denied yet again, but Janus just chuckles before he’s grabbing both of his cocks with one hand.

“Can you be a good boy for me and take both?” Janus asks, watching Patton’s dumb brain slowly process the question. Patton blinks, audibly panting, before suddenly smiling wide and barking. He again tries to move forward, but this time Janus lets him, petting through Patton’s hair in order to praise him.

“You’re so cute, pup,” Janus coos, “so cute and eager and obedient."

He lets Patton move at his own pace, and quietly moans himself when Patton sloppily licks over his cocks once more, before beginning to slowly guide Janus’s cocks into his mouth as Janus holds them still. It makes his jaw ache, but he sucks anyway, moaning at the heavy weight pressing into his mouth and the way Janus’s pre tastes leaking down his throat.

He cries out messily when Janus turns his plug up even higher, and pushes his head further down Janus’s cocks, until they’re about halfway in his mouth. He gags, eyes welling up with tears.

Unable to get them past that point, Patton takes to pleasuring them with his tongue, moaning around them and making Janus sigh in pleasure in turn. He stays stroking through Patton’s hair as Patton chokes on his shafts, and listens as Patton tries to shift his hips and drive his plug further into him while simultaneously humping the air.

With the leash pressing into his palm, Janus suddenly gives it a light tug, urging Patton further down and watching him struggle.

“You’re such a dumb pup,” Janus muses, in a babying voice, which has Patton looking immediately more confident and excited. “You hardly know what’s going on! All you know is being stupid and happy, and sucking cock.” Patton’s tongue drags over the length of his shafts at the praise, hips jerking excitedly.

It doesn’t take long before Janus slides one of his legs between Patton’s thighs, giving him something proper to rut against. And Patton does, immediately grinding his own cock over Janus’s shin, and whining immediately at the friction. Janus moans quietly in turn due to the pleasant vibrations coursing up his cocks.

Patton’s own precome smears over Janus’s pants as his pelvis humps desperately against Janus’s leg, desperate for any little bit of pleasure while his mouth is used as Janus’s fleshlight. He’s sucking obscenely, and making even lewder noises while his cock rubs against Janus. He’s needy and horny, and stupid and obedient.

“Good puppy,” Janus moans, becoming less and less careful of Patton’s headband while petting through his sweaty hair. “Such a… such a pretty boy.”

Janus has to bring his knuckles to his mouth in order to muffle any particularly embarrassing noises that threaten to spill from his lips as a result of Patton’s messy, noisy sucking. He’s bobbing his head quickly, swallowing as much of Janus’s cocks down as possible, before sliding back the tip and drinking down Janus’s pre, and then sinking again.

His fists press against Janus’s legs to keep himself from clumsily falling this way or that.

With his eyes welling up with tears, Patton’s humping becomes more clumsy and intense, grinding his cock feverishly against Janus’s shin. He’s moaning repeatedly with each slide against Janus’s pants, and when Janus rubs his leg against Patton’s cock in turn, Patton just lets out a choked cry. A few tears spill down his red cheeks, as he feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Janus watches Patton’s face contort in pleasure around his cocks, a mixture of drool and tears smearing over his slick, sweaty face. Patton’s a mess, and it’s beautiful.

“Are you close, my puppy?”

Patton makes a slew of dirty, wet noises in response, no doubt affirming Janus’s question. He’s so hot and close, and his dumb little puppy mind just can’t hold himself back! He’s got no restraint. No humiliation. Nothing holding him back. So when Janus turns his plug vibrator up all the way, Patton feels overwhelmingly pleasured and mindless. He pushes himself down on Janus’s cocks, gagging himself once more, as his hips stutter against Janus’s leg. He comes quickly over Janus’s pants and his own thighs, making a mess of them both. His eyes roll back into his head as he humps sloppily throughout his orgasm, before he stills, more slowly bobbing his head as his foggy mind struggles to remember that his real treat is still yet to come. So, Janus graciously helps him out.

With his fingers curled in Patton’s hair, Janus takes to thrusting his cocks down Patton’s throat, making Patton choke as his mouth is used like a toy. But he likes it. He likes being good for his owner.

With quiet moans coming from his own mouth, Janus eventually shoves Patton’s face halfway down his cocks and comes down his throat, having to bite his bottom lip hard to keep his noises repressed. Patton chokes on his semen, but swallows down all that he can, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows twice, thrice, and then is allowed to pull away.

Panting, Patton slumps against the floor, watching with tired, foggy eyes as Janus tucks himself back into his pants, and then kneels down beside him.

Being careful of the come decorating Patton’s own stomach, Janus slides his hand along Patton’s front, petting over his body. “Good boy,” Janus whispers, soft voice echoing throughout the hot room. “You did so well. How do you feel?”

And in response, Patton barks.

#moceit #moceit smut #sanders sides #sanders sides smut #not safe for sanders #agp smut #hypnosis

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brainzzzeater · 3 months ago

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So I just watched Fight Club. And ofc I’m relating it to spideypool, so spoilers ahead!

Au idea:

Peter’s life has been on the decline for some time now, working a dead end job at the bugle and social life painfully nonexistent with his loved ones being either dead or distanced. All he has left now is being Spider-Man. But there is something in Peter that has always been just a little bit off kilter. Ever since he was young he couldn’t help but love being Spidey, sure it was nice helping people and all, but the thrill, fighting, chasing? That was what kept him happy going out every night. An adrenaline junky at heart.

So what happens when the spark starts fading? The criminals start becoming less frequent, super villains become more mediocre. What happens when you’ve become so good at what you do you’ve accomplished everything you strived for? The lack of excitement makes Peter feel like a winded up coil under a brick. He can’t rest, he can’t think, he can’t sleep. With insomnia, he’s running on autopilot through his life watching the days tick by faster than they should be.

That is until one day he runs into a suited man decked head to toe in guns and blades. A mercenary named Deadpool. That spark comes back, he chases it, determined to stop this mercenary before he can keep spreading his violence across the streets of NYC. Yet try as he might, the man just keeps slipping right through his fingers. And if Peter lets him, that's nobodies business except his.

Peter doesn’t know when it happened but at some point there fights started turning into reluctant partnerships, then sharing a meal, and finally to seeking each other’s presence. Right when the world seemed its dullest he found color in this unlikely frienemy, and if his punches start getting sloppy with small timers, all the better to get to Deadpool faster.

Months start passing by, the thrill better than ever. Spider-Man’s reputation getting worsened with every passing day by the crime rates rising. Peter even jeopardizing his position at the bugle.

But as much fun as chasing Deadpool is, he was a hero at heart. Deadpool started crossing a line, his jobs were getting too big, he was getting involved with the worst of the worst. All his previous morals started to drift away once he himself seemed to become one of the big time crime lords.

Once he decides that enough was enough Peter just couldn’t seem to track the merc down no matter how fast he swung through the city. Every clue and lead he followed seemed to run him in circles.

He strung a goon up by his feet for an interrogation, “They say that he’s covered in these gnarly scars and sores all over his body, his skin never looks the same from the last time you saw him, if you saw his skin at all!”

When he had entered one of the many underground bars something curious happened. In his civilian clothing, trying a new undercover approach, Peter addressed the bartender who spoke without turning, “Things are still running smoothly sir, we're just waiting on the last drop.”

“Excuse me?”

The barkeep finally glanced at him, eyes widening, “Sorry I thought you— is this a test?”

Peter commanded his voice, “Who do you think I am?” The man stayed silent and Peter spoke again, “…This isn’t a test.”

“You’re not what I expected but… your Deadpool.”

Out of desperation Peter swung across the city as fast as his muscles could carry him. He scoured his phone book for a number he had secretly saved without the mercs knowledge,

“I’m busy, keep it short.”

“…Weasel?”

“Ah, it’s you. What do you need now.”

“I— when… was the last time I spoke to you?”

“Last Thursday, what, did you stop sleeping again? That weapons shipment should be arriving by tomorrow and all of the boys are ready to receive—”

“Woah, hold on. What are you talking about?”

“Not again, you’ve seriously got to see a shrink ‘pool.”

“What?”

“Well, you’ve always been a sick dude but—”

“No, what did you say? What did you call me? Say my name!”

“Deadpool? Deadpool you wack-job! Listen, I’m busy and I can’t deal with another one of your episodes. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“No! Weasel, wait!”

Peter paced around his small apartment like a madman. There had to be something more, another piece of evidence to prove what he was suspecting wasn’t true. He snatched up the newspaper clippings he had snagged from the bugle before leaving, he stared down at the killer in the picture. Deadpool's frame looked different, shorter, slightly less bulky. Peter jumped when a deep gravely voice spoke up from the corner of his room.

"You broke your promise. I told you not to find Weasel."

*insert Tyler and Narrator confrontation*

youtube

With Deadpool standing in the corner Peter runs to his closet and rips the door open. He stopped storing his suit in the hidden compartment in his closet years ago, and in the space he finds a red and black suit he's been chasing, and guns and blades that have been used to kill hundreds.

Okay I am tired of typing this out, I think its super awesome and I may or may not draw something for this AU in the far future!

#noticed a few peeps talked abt spideypool AUs and decided to type out a little more of my draft and post it #just like the movie #this AU also has the homoerotic undertones #spideypool #fight club #spiderman #deadpool #narrator fight club #tyler durden #Youtube #yapping

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p-receh · 1 year ago

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Analysis time! :D

What better way to make another thesis for certain parts of the last episode?

This post, I'll be talking about how strong the Power Spheres could take over its owner's mind.

As I ever mentioned it before. Even though comic book already covered the story of season 2. Again, we still need to look at the TV ver. Because whatever happens, TV shows is still the roots of Boboiboy's franchise. Whether you like it or not.

We good? Now shall we begin?

Re edit for grammar correction

See, of all every Power Spheres that had been introduced, only Kokotaim gang were not yet been "confirmed" what was their Power Spheres look like. Sure, the only elemental bot that had been shown were Hang Kasa's Crystal Bot and Retak'ka's Light Bot, but that's it.

Monsta already established two rules about the Power Sphere:

Every Power Spheres have their mind and soul. They could talk, think and feel like a living being.

Whatever happens, their contact with their first owner emended to their traits and it impacted to their next owner as well.

My first suspicion obviously came from what Gopal had said before in one of anon ask box about the first debut of Taufan and Hali in OG series.

"In the past, Boboiboy Lightning turn into Thunderstorm because he felt extremely angry. Boboiboy Wind turn into Cyclone also because of felling an absolute joy."

Another interesting aspect is from Mechamato movie. Specifically when Amato in Mecha suit mode was being locked to a flashback scene triggered by Mecha Bot uncontrollable sense of fear.

(excuse me for putting the Indonesian sub ver. :/

*translation note in order:

"Mechabot, Shoot!"

"Mechabot! What's wrong?"

"C'mon Mechabot!

From this point, I think you can guess what I would want to go from here.

As the tweet mentioned. It is interesting to note the similarities between the two. Whenever the Power Spheres' soul take over the owner's body more deeper, their eyes will glow and the scars spreads to their skin.

And by that logic, the Power Spheres consume much more energy than before. Thus the heavy drained out both mentally and physically from their owners.

Amato knew this and to fix the same issue, he convinced Mecha Bot during their final battle against General Grakakus in the same movie.

"Mechabot, close your eyes! I will be the one to handle our moves! Trust me!"

It goes back to one of my ted talks about this topic and a highlight some particular line from Kuputeri.

One of my favorite Boboiboy account also solidified his statement again about Oboi's being controlled by Power Sphere or in this case, elemental forms.

In my opinion what Oboi went through was somehow worse than any other Power Sphere wielder out there.

Not only he wields seven strongest powers in the galaxy but also might be the most unconstrained one to control them. Then again he still not reach his age of consent, but he already hold big responsibility to become the hero and most wanted target in the galaxy.

Think about it, even their original owners were a bit struggled to learn their power. Hang Kasa travel planets to planet only for learning his power with other elemental masters, Kuputeri needs to harness for at least hundreds years until she could tame Beliung/Tempest's, A small crack Ki'rana's body armor could made her went berserk due to the immense power of the Lightning bot.

In common sense, every wielder still has their Power Spheres as their own companion while Oboi hasn't. What Boboiboy only has to contain that grandiose powers? a watch. A watch that went three times modification simply because of the powers that was too strong to keep and use all at once. Not to mention how frequent Oboi uses split and now with fusion techniques is also add to the list.

He barely managed to ease his mind when transform to Beliung, Ice and Blaze worsen Baraju's conflicts with their near 3rd tier transformation, and he was lucky to be saved by 30 minutes Oakuat Juice so he could keep Rimba under his watch.

Now that we come so far, the questions still remains missing:

With how bad the elementals took over Oboi, will it possible they are gonna be the next villain for him in the future?

Does Amato knows about Boboiboy's Elementals powers? Does he also know Ochobot past before sending it to him?

Did the rest of elementals Power Spheres already destroyed after the first Retak'ka's raid or not?

I guess maybe Mechamato series might be the answer of Ochobot and all elementals Power Spheres in the past. Again we still have no clue what happened to him during the season 2 events.

And also this line up post before Monsta split the title for Dwifusion to "Gentar" and "Baraju"—

—announced the third season of Galaxy series after BM3 Gur'latan(quite close too after the movie you know?) . My only hope is that it cover the elenmentals and also other origins of Yaya, Ying, Gopal, and Fang Power Sphere.

Where were they came from? Were their Power Spheres also get destroyed like all elementals did? Are their owners still alive or not?

🤔

OOT but I just love Monsta's new thumbnail art for full ep marathon of Windara. 😎👍

#boboiboy #boboiboy galaxy #bbbglxs2 #bbb #mechamato #analysis recehan

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bluelolblue · 4 months ago

Text

✧ To Feel Human ✧

This fic was inspired by this post by the amazing @thewhumpcaretaker <3

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio & Acheron

This got into 5k words of Acheron helping Santino out with a bullet wound and Acheron feeling more human than before with his master. I chose: "Holding their neck or wrist to feel their pulse but not squeezing in the slightest" but not in a nsfw way, this is pretty much whump, hurt/comfort but has deeper moments with Acheron and how he is trying to process his feelings. And how humans are complicated. I also changed my writing style a little, mostly with Acheron's inner dialog, those are written in italics. I hope it'll be enjoyable to read! :] | Line divider

Warning: This also contains a bit of graphic descriptions of a bullet wound and blood, a character being kinda fascinated by heartbeat and humans in general.

How did I miss it? I don't understand… I was right there. Right there, near the door– behind Santino. I… no, this wasn't supposed to happen. I'm supposed to protect him– my Master. What is wrong with me? Why didn't I predict it –

“A-Acheron...”

The demon snapped out of his thoughts after hearing his name being called in a strangled breathy voice. He looked up at his Master, whose breathing seemed to get heavier. He didn't look well either, his condition worsened.

Santino’s white shirt was painted with blood over his ribs and it looked like it was spreading more, so he was still bleeding even if he kept the pressure on.

“I'm right here, Master. I have to sterilize the tools– try to stay still.”

My hands are shaking. Why? This has never happened before. I need to calm down– he is losing a lot of blood! Santino– your Master– is dying right in front of you! Snap out of it!

Acheron's breath hitched for a moment and he could feel Santino's exhausted and confused look, though he didn't have enough strength to comment on it.

“Breathe for me, Master. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Come on– look at me–” the demon gently held his chin to make Santino look at him, to focus on him since he looked like he was drifting away for a moment. “We can do this together, okay? It's going to hurt, yes… but you're stronger than this.”

The Camorra prince tried to keep eye contact with him, tried to inhale for a deep breath but even that hurt. Every sharp inhale felt like stabbing, like the wound and the bullet pulsed within him.

“Fuck– it…” He choked and his body shook violently, but Acheron placed his hand on his thigh to let him know he was there. “H-hurts to breathe…”

Acheron cursed in his head, already thinking about other possibilities but he couldn't do anything if Santino didn't calm down.

“I know,” he sighed sadly, tapping on his thigh, “But, I need you to try to focus on breathing and me. Stay still, I'll breathe with you. It'll be over quickly,” Acheron instructed and started breathing the way he told his Master. Santino struggled to follow, but his assistant encouraged him and the way he was looking at him, with this comforting look yet there was still worry in his eyes.

Santino managed to inhale and exhale a couple of times while Acheron prepared everything. “Good, you're doing well,” the assistant praised as he got the tweezers ready. “I need to unbutton your shirt and disinfect the wound.”

“Fine…” D'Antonio muttered. Even if he was feeling vulnerable and weak, and the thought of him being exposed even more was terrified, he had no choice but to listen. His flight or fight response was triggered but another part of him kept reminding him that this was Acheron helping him. That he was allowed to relax and be vulnerable around him. He winced as his assistant got to the last button and the cool air against his feverish skin wasn't the most pleasant feeling.

“Let me see,” Acheron said softly, waiting for his Master to move his hand away from it. Santino shakily moved his hand off the wound and it bled out again, dripping down his waist which Acheron tried to wipe away with another bandage. He gently tapped the injury, trying to clean it enough to start the process.

The Camorra prince groaned in discomfort, but also let Acheron do what he had to. He wanted to push him away, yes, to order him to leave him alone. Yet a part of him wanted and craved his help.

“I'll pull the bullet out now… just breathe through it, okay? It'll be done quickly.” Acheron looked up at him, searching for his approval, to be sure he was still with him.

“Just get it over with…” Santino muttered, his exhausted eyes met his servant's but there was a hint of desperation in his fierce eyes.

Acheron nodded, murmuring some words of reassurance under his breath as he prepared the tweezers. He was holding them in front of the gaping wound, examining what would be the best way to get the bullet out. He had to think quickly and the sudden anxiety wasn't helping him either.

It was a weird feeling, his whole body felt tense, his chest felt heavier and painful and his hands were still slightly shaking.

You idiot… get yourself fucking together already. Just pull the damn bullet out!

He was screaming at himself in his mind and he took one deep breath to calm himself, and Santino.

“Breathe with me, Master. Look at me, focus on breathing and me.” He pressed the tweezers slightly into the wound, just to finally start and get his boss to work with him.

“Dammit, Acheron! I-I'm fucking trying–” Of course, Santino snapped a little and winced. Like a frightened animal and the demon could've guessed it was coming.

“Look at me and breathe,” Acheron urged, he sounded like he was the one giving orders now, but he had to calm him down even if it meant to sound strict. Though, he still had a gentle tone.

Santino cursed at him in Italian, but didn't fight back. He looked down at him, inhaling sharply only to be cut off by his own gasp when he felt the tweezers sinking deeper into his skin.

“Good, okay… getting there,” the assistant praised, giving a light squeeze on Santino's knee to ground him and not let him spiral. “You're doing well.”

D'Antonio bit back a whimper and gritted his teeth, gripping the sheets with one hand while the other one was holding tightly on his shirt. He felt how the bullet was slowly being pulled out and to him if felt like it was agonizingly slow. He could feel it inside his flesh, near his ribs, feel the cold tweezers in his burning wound… he was overwhelmed, his heartbeat racing almost too fast for his comfort.

“Fuck! Aah– just…” Santino groaned, panic kicking in, but Acheron was quick to react.

“Shh, I got it. Trust me… it's almost over.” He had to carefully pull it out, not to accidentally damage his ribs or anything else and he knew it was painful, but he didn't have any other choice.

The blood kept dripping down, but it wasn't an alarming amount, at least not yet. It just looked nasty, and enough to make Santino look away at the sight. His breath hitched and a moan from pain escaped him when Acheron pressed the tweezers deeper. He slammed his fist into the mattress from frustration and pain, it was from instinct, just trying to grasp at something– anything even if he would tear it apart.

“You're doing this on purpose, you bastard!” He muttered through his teeth, ready to throw more insults but all that came out was strained moaning.

“I’m not– but if you keep moving, it'll get in deeper.” The universe seemed to hear him at that moment and do exactly what he said. The bullet slipped from the tweezers hold. “Shit. It's okay– I got it.” Acheron was quick to grab it again but it sent a violent shiver through Santino's whole body.

“You idiot!” Santino groaned but involuntarily moaned when he felt the tweezers being retrieved back from his flesh.

“There we go,” the demon murmured and placed the bullet in a metal bowl he had prepared. It clinked and made the Camorra prince flinch, bringing him back to reality. “You're alright, Master, just stay calm.”

More blood was spilling out from the wound, it felt like it was pulsing which genuinely made Santino feel nauseous for a moment, but he exhaled shakily, trying to calm his breathing down.

“Should've left the bullet in…” He murmured, more to himself than to Acheron but his assistant heard him.

“Don't say such things, Master,” Acheron said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt guilt creeping up on him, the anxiety was still clawing deep inside him and now this? The way Santino looked absolutely defeated and sounded like he was about to pass out made his feelings feel more intense than ever before.

D'Antonio huffed a weak laugh, which turned into something similar to a choked sob, he squeezed his eyes shut, avoiding Acheron's gaze.

The demon didn't want to push him further, so he continued to treat his wound, murmuring soothing words and telling him everything he was doing.

“Keep breathing deeply like that,” he whispered and gently took a hold of Santino's wrist, not that his master had the strength to argue about it. He placed his fingers over his pulse, it was steady enough and the warmth of it felt… nice, alive, human like.

“I'm not dead, you know…” Santino said hoarsely and Acheron snapped back to reality.

“I know,” he replied quietly, carefully cleaning the blood around the wound. “I'll have to stitch it. But I can't have you passing out from… exhaustion. It's too dangerous… I can't just do it while you feel everything–”

“I've seen and felt worse… I'm giving you permission…”

Acheron met his eyes and he recognized that look. Santino was serious about it, pain was his whole life, yes, the demon was aware of it, but he really didn't want to cause him more pain.

“I refuse,” the demon said, keeping the pressure on the injury with a disinfected bandage. “You were in too much stress for me to use any ability… it would only harm you more… though you've calmed down now. I can try to numb the area so I can stitch it. But I won't let you get through more intense pain.”

D'Antonio only looked at him for a few more seconds and then exhaled deeply. “Do whatever you want.”

“I promise I only want to help you… but you also need to help yourself. And to help yourself, I'll need you to steady your breathing a bit more and focus on me,” Acheron instructed and was glad to see that Santino was trying. He was trying for him.

He took several deep breaths, occasionally glancing at Acheron who nodded in encouragement.

The other man felt his pulse again and was pleased with the process. “I'll use only enough to make you not feel intense pain. There might be discomfort but I'm afraid that's all I can for now.”

“You pulled a damn bullet out of me, this can't be worse, can it?” Santino smirked weakly, wincing as a short breathy laugh that escaped him sent a jolt through his body.

Acheron chuckled softly. “You don't want to find out.” He pressed his fingers around the wound and started the process.

Santino felt like the area was being poured with warm water, the pain was fading away, not entirely but just enough not to feel his own injury throb. It was much better.

“There. Do you feel my fingers?” Acheron asked as he lightly pressed near the wound.

“Kinda like pressure but… it’s not painful,” Santino replied, feeling slightly more drained but he knew that would happen if Acheron used his ability.

“Good. Just relax.”

The Camorra prince nodded weakly and let his assistant do his work.

It was more uncomfortable than painful, like light pinching from time to time and pressure going through his flesh. He bit back whimpers, watching Acheron work.

He really looked more human than ever. There was more emotion in his face, his movements were gentle– just like always but now his touch felt deeply comforting. Santino couldn't explain it in his mind, after all he was feeling exhausted, so nothing felt like it was making sense, but… Acheron was different now. Good different.

“Doing okay?” The demon asked softly, glancing up at him.

“Yes… just tired,” Santino murmured, shutting his eyes closed for a moment and focusing on his breathing and the quietness of the room.

Acheron hummed in agreement, piercing another stitch through his skin which made his master let out a strangled whimper but he also muttered to him to continue.

It didn't take long for the demon to finish with stitches, he worked better on it than most of the medical teams Santino had.

“This should be fine,” Acheron said as he finished the last stitch, examining if there was something he missed. “I'll heal you once you recover enough… you'll need lots of rest, Master.”

Santino sighed deeply and leaned back, his palms pressed against the mattress as he felt his body betraying him with exhaustion.

“I'll feel that in the morning…” He murmured with a faint smirk.

“Probably,” Acheron agreed and was aware of the struggles with healing from a bullet wound. “But I can assure you it'll pass. It'll take a few days but you should recover quickly.”

There was something heavy and burning in his chest the moment he looked at Santino. It wasn't like the anxiety he felt, no. This was something tempting, something warm that was telling him to feel him. His pulse.

He hesitantly took a gentle hold on his master's wrist, brushing his thumb over the warmth of his veins. He couldn't understand why he was so drawn to that, but he had a strong need to feel that pulse.

“Are you okay?”

Acheron blinked and let go only to meet Santino's tired but concerned look.

“I just have to make sure you're… not in any danger anymore.” That was true but not completely. But then again he wasn't even sure how to explain the emotions he was experiencing.

Santino was about to say something when the medical team arrived, out of breath and smelling like gunpowder. Acheron glared at them over his shoulder and they froze.

“We're sorry for the delay– the situation outside was–”

“There is no excuse for letting your boss almost bleed out!” Santino doesn't recall ever hearing Acheron yell at someone, not at his staff at least. He was mad, he could feel his frustration and how he was holding back not to transform into the demon wolf to tear them apart.

The staff winced and took a step back once Acheron got too close to them.

“There was no other way we could enter– everyone was shooting at each other.” That was true and Acheron could understand, but he believed that Santino's safety was the priority, nothing should stop him or the bodyguards from keeping their boss safe.

“Enough!” The demon snapped strictly and the room got quiet. Santino stared at him, amazed by his reactions. “I took the bullet out and stitched his wound. You can examine it and give him what he needs to feel better.”

The staff nodded and quickly moved past him, getting their medical supplies out. Santino let them examine him, he didn't really care anyway. He trusted Acheron more than anyone, he knew he did everything right with his injury. Then again, he could use some pills, he was feeling quite drowsy.

Acheron watched their every move, ready to step in if he had to, keeping an eye on his master's body language and expressions. He seemed fine, irritated, exhausted but alive and safe.

The medical staff injected anesthetic near the wound to numb the pain, as well as some sedative medicine that Santino wasn't very fond of drinking but he had no choice.

“He should be okay and heal in a few days. Wound is clean and stitched… professionally. Well done, Sir,” one of the medics explained and gave a respectful nod at Acheron.

The demon only hummed, pleased with their work and stood by Santino's side.

“And I'd recommend not moving too much, or at least for a day or two because of the stitches. Just in case…” The other one added and D'Antonio let out a frustrated sigh, ready to snap at them but Acheron stepped in.

“Alright. Thank you both. Now make sure the mansion is not under an attack anymore,” he ordered. The staff nodded, preparing to leave and do what they were told. Until one of them flinched when they felt Acheron's grip on their shoulder. “And don't let this happen again. Being late for your boss won't be tolerated. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” they replied nervously and made their way out.

Acheron watched as they scurried, sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I'm starting to think I'm not the strict one here,” Santino chuckled weakly, buttoning his shirt.

“They failed to help you in time, there is no excuse for that,” Acheron said, wanting to help him with the shirt but his master murmured that he can do it himself.

“I didn't really care,” the Camorra prince muttered and accepted a glass of water his assistant brought him.

“You didn't, but I did.” Yet he still couldn't understand how he missed the enemy pulling out their gun and shooting his master right in front of him. The guilt sting deeply in him. “I… I'm sorry, Master,” Acheron apologized, though there was no pride in his voice, in fact his voice was quiet and soft.

“For what?” Santino asked, placing the half empty glass on the counter. He genuinely looked curious on what his assistant meant.

“Well, I… failed to protect you. You shouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. All because I…” Acheron exhaled, trying to find his words. “Didn't react in time. I don't know what happened… and I am deeply sorry for everything–”

“Acheron, you don't have to apologize. It wasn't the first time I was shot at a meeting,” D'Antonio smiled tiredly, but Acheron still didn't like the fact his master was kinda used to this.

“This will be the last time that has happened. I promise,” Acheron vowed, placing his hand on his heart and bowing his head in respect.

“But you didn't answer my question from before,” Santino groaned as he adjusted, “Are you okay? You seem… distracted today.”

He noticed… of course he did. He notices everything.

The demon hesitated, not even sure what to tell him.

I'm sorry, I felt more alive than before.

I felt like a human.

I was scared of losing you.

I failed you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

“I… I'm not sure,” he whispered, avoiding his master's eyes. “I suppose I was distracted.”

The moment he looked at him, he could tell Santino wasn't buying that.

“I've never seen you nervous before. I felt it, you know. Your, um… fear? Or something, it was uncomfortable. But I felt that before. Like something is burning in your chest, pulling you, just… it's weird.” It was not often to hear him talk about his feelings, but when he did, the way he would describe them was as if they were monsters or something out of this world. “We humans are complicated… our feelings… but you're not human. Yet you felt it.”

There it was again. The same feeling from before, only not that intense. Acheron swallowed nervously before answering. “I, um…” He found himself fumbling with words, not sure what to say which has never happened before. It was scary, creeping up slowly, making his breath hitch. “I don't know, Master. I've never felt it before… I think I…” He hesitated, his eyes kinda burned and his vision got blurry.

Santino frowned in concern. He himself was bad with talking about feelings so he wasn't even sure how to help him express it or what to do. However, he seemed to understand what Acheron meant.

“Felt human?”

Acheron looked at him and his own heartbeat quickened. The feelings were terrifying, and his master knew that.

“I'm not sure– I guess so–”

“You don't have to explain, Acheron. If it's making you uncomfortable,” D'Antonio cut him off, and with a strained groan managed to lay down, sighing as he closed his eyes. “I often forget you're not human because… you seem so human. Your heartbeat is real, your hands are warm, your soul feels… pleasant. I wouldn't be surprised if you felt that way.”

The room fell silent, the demon only stood there, trying to process everything. Santino read him like a book, noticed every detail and that amazed him.

“It's a weird feeling,” he confessed quietly and decided that he should collect himself already. “But that doesn't matter. Your well being matters the most. How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

Santino huffed, but didn't make an effort to sit up. “Like I have no energy for anything… feels like I was beaten the shit out of me. A shower could be useful, but lying down feels better for now,” he explained, only opening his eyes enough to look at the other man.

“Okay. Let me know if you'll need anything else.”

Later that evening, while Santino finally got enough strength to get himself to the bathroom, Acheron patrolled around the mansion, observing how the rest of the staff was cleaning the mess of the attack.

Everything else seemed to be going back to normal, there was no sign of danger and he could finally relax.

By the time he returned back to Santino's room, he found his master already dozing off. He looked so peaceful, exhausted, calm. Not like a Camorra leader he was, but just an ordinary tired person. Human.

Acheron moved silently towards him, just to check on him to be sure when he heard a mumble.

“You don't have to sneak around…” Santino winced when he tried to stretch a little, he almost forgot about his injury.

“Just wanted to check how you're doing. It'll be better for you to find a comfortable position and rest,” Acheron murmured, giving him a warm smile.

“That's kinda what I'm trying to do,” the Camorra prince muttered. “Have you checked everything?” He sighed, giving up on finding a comfortable position.

“Yes. Everything is fine, the night should be calm,” Acheron answered, placing some boxes of painkillers and a glass of water on the counter next to Santino's bed.

“Good. Tomorrow's gonna be busy… because of that asshole and everything.” The pills and anesthetic seemed to start taking their impact on him. His eyelids started to feel heavier and his words got more slower, yet he was still talking. “Maybe I should shoot him… or something… bastard did this to me.”

His assistant chuckled softly, finding him this exhausted that he was babbling adorably funny.

“We'll figure it out tomorrow. Rest now.” He was about to leave, but D'Antonio stopped him.

“Wait. Stay a little longer.”

Acheron turned to look at him and nodded. He sat on a chair next to the bed, and prepared himself for Santino's tired babbling.

“Did you really have to press those tweezers that deep in me?”

The demon couldn't hold back a laugh that escaped him, he himself almost forgot about that.

“My apologies, Master. The bullet slipped away, I had no other choice. But you handled it well, listened to me and did whatever you needed to get yourself through it.” Even if it meant snapping and wanting to tear things apart.

“I did… insult you during it. I'm sorry…” To get an apology from Santino was… extremely rare. And now he seemed more vulnerable, being sedated and tired, he could apologize now but snap in a minute. “You're the best bodyguard I've ever had. I don't wanna make you feel–”

“Master, don't even worry about it. You were in pain, it was understandable, and right now you're exhausted. You need rest, I'll take care of everything else.” Acheron didn't want him to worry, the last thing he needed now was more stress.

They talked some more, probably for an hour since it didn't take long for Santino to start drifting into sleep again. Acheron stayed with him the whole time and admired him in this vulnerable state.

He looked beautiful, messy but still elegant. Yet something else also caught Acheron's attention.

Santino's pulse. His heartbeat.

He could hear it even from a distance if he focused hard enough. He watched how he was breathing, his chest falling and rising with each breath, how comfortable he looked for the first time today.

How could someone be so… stunning while sleeping? All he's doing is breathing. He's so vulnerable now… but clearly is trusting me to see him like this. I've never… never met someone like him. I can't stop looking at him, or listening to his heartbeat. I want to… feel his heart.

Acheron hesitantly reached for Santino's hand that was out and resting near his face on the pillow. He just wanted to feel his pulse, just for a little while. His touch was so light that his master didn't even flinch, he was deep asleep.

His pulse felt slow but not in a bad way, it was more in a comforting way. The demon gently brushed his thumb over his veins, just to feel his warmth and pulse some more. But he knew where he could feel his heartbeat even more.

His neck. It was exposed so beautifully, highlighted by the light from the moon coming through the window.

Is this right of me? I just want to feel his pulse. I don't know why I need to feel it, but something is not letting me have peace until I do so.

He carefully placed his two fingers over his neck, over the vein pulsing. It felt stronger than before, Acheron's breath hitched. He could stay like this for so long, just feeling how alive his master was, how warm he was, how his heart was beating so elegantly.

He wasn't sure how long he spent there, feeling his pulse, admiring him, but it felt like it was hours.

Santino slightly shifted in his sleep and Acheron took that as a sign he was standing here for too long. The reality of what he was doing made him uneasy, he felt weird, but one part of him was pleased.

He finally left the room, silently walking back to his own room while fidgeting his fingers. He could still feel the warmth of his skin on his fingerprints.

Humans are complex. How their heart beats so gently, how the blood is warm and rushing through their veins. Why does it amaze me? Or is it just my Master? I am so stunned by him, I cannot explain it… but every day I feel closer to him, like our souls are being connected more than before. Ah, I guess I'm just as complex.

Acheron spent the rest of the night thinking about everything, about Santino, his feelings towards him, just everything that could possibly come to his mind. It was a long night of just staring at his ceiling on the bed, alone with his thoughts. Then again, he could still feel Santino's peace, and occasionally hear his heart beating when he concentrated.

In the morning, at around 9 am, Acheron went to check up on his master. Santino was still sleeping, only changed his position a little but nothing else was different.

He checked again at 12 pm, when he heard a sleepy groan and saw Santino shift some more. D'Antonio looked a bit disoriented, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to fully wake himself up.

“Morning, Master,” Acheron greeted softly, letting Santino adjust to the light of the room.

“Fuck… what time is it? What day– ah…” He winced and whimpered when he tried to sit up, but felt his stitches stretch. “So it wasn't just a nightmare… Dammit, this shit hurts…” There he was, the Camorra prince being grumpy, the one Acheron knew very well.

“Don't strain yourself. It's 12 pm, the longest I've ever seen you sleep.” He had to playfully tease him just a little.

“I overslept? I have so much to do, I can't just stay here all day. Even if I want to,” Santino murmured, already being frustrated and having tons of racing thoughts.

“I'll take care of everything. If you're still tired feel free to sleep for longer. You went through a lot, it'll be better if you rest as long as possible.”

Santino was thinking about it, about his options. He was still very tired and the wound started to hurt again. He really just wanted to stay in bed.

“Fine… if you can take care of everything, you can have as much of my soul as you want,” Santino murmured with a light smirk. “And bring me some fresh water, will you? I'm dying of thirst.”

The demon chuckled and did exactly what he was told. It looked like Santino was coming back to his old self quickly, just as Acheron thought.

He spent some time with him, brought him breakfast, which Santino refused at first but eventually his stubborn mind decided he was hungry after all, and gave him painkillers.

“Thank you, Acheron… for everything, really. Ah, see? You're so human… and I think that's not bad, you don't have to be afraid of that feeling,” D'Antonio said after he watched him for a few minutes.

“Always, Master. And I suppose I could… try not to let this feeling get the best of me. I'll work on it,” Acheron promised, and Santino could tell there was determination in his voice.

“Just don't let it destroy you. Trust me.” The Camorra prince gave him a wink as he sipped on his water, wishing it was wine.

Acheron understood, Santino just didn't want him to suffer the way he did. Humans suffer every day, fight their own demons within them, no wonder his master was warning him about it.

Human or not, feelings could be strange. They could feel overwhelming, strong, painful, scary, like a monster clawing deep inside you.

Acheron had many masters before Santino, but he never felt this way with any of them. Their souls have a deeper connection, he could feel that and he liked it actually. Just that emotions were still a bit scary to process.

#was working on this one for soo long as well omgggg #and it got long but AGHH Acheron just amazed by Santino lol #im sorry for any grammar mistakes i tried my best and im posting this at almost 2 am now #Acheron and santino are soul bonded!#platonic soulmates #santino d’antonio #santino d'antonio #oc: acheron #john wick oc #wickblr #my writing #whump writing #hurt/comfort

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