#and how much vitriol and open anger i have for the show now

[contactlessdrivethru]

there are lots of things that make ted lasso one of my favorite shows, but maybe the biggest one is how consistently and how deliberately they pay off their own setups.

we live in a media era that’s so obsessed with being Spoiler Free that writers will make their endings, their Twists, so bizarre and so obtuse that they can’t possibly be Spoiled by anyone just. understanding basic story structure. and it has led to some of the most dissatisfying, unmemorable, disappointing stories that have been produced

game of thrones is nigh impossible to rewatch, because all the audience feels when they see all those threads being placed, all that intention that was there in the beginning of the story, is disappointment. it was the biggest show on television for a full decade and Nobody In The World rewatches it.

but ted lasso isn’t like that. so many of us who follow the show have been able to call so much of what has happened, in season two and now as season three is premiering, and i cannot emphasize enough how WONDERFUL that is! how glad i was to recognize the blatant queercoding of Colin and then have it paid off when he was confirmed queer! to have nate’s face-heel turn be devastating on a first watch and so obvious on a rewatch! to have expectations met and exceeded

i truly believe that season three will go exactly the way that they told us it would at the end of season one. relegation, then promotion, then victory. and i will be so, so happy when they do what they said they would.

[ichatake]

Uchihas reacting to “I hate you”s

Request are open! Request rules here!

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Obito Uchiha, Madara Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Shisui Uchiha

Warning: slight angst, nothing else.

Obito Uchiha (Villain)

✧ “I hate you,” he stood there, his expression unwavering as your voice seethed with anger. Your voice could cut through thick glass as you shouted at him, but he felt nothing whatsoever. Even as your eyes bore into him, filled with a hatred so intense it could burn a hole through his soul, it wasn’t directed towards him. No, not ever. Yet despite the venom in your words, he didn’t flinch. Instead he listened intently, his expression indifferent. “That’s okay,” he responded, his voice devoid of any apparent emotion. In any other scenario, he would’ve crumpled under the weight of your vitriol, weeping and pleading for an explanation as to why you might hate him. But not now, because he already knew why.

✧ He knew how you mourned him for years, believing him dead and gone, only to find out the hard way the reality. He knew you visited his grave, and wished that you were in his position. He knew that your trust—your perspective of reality had been shattered the very moment his mask fell from his face. With a heavy heart, he continued “I would too,” his gaze never left yours, watching as tears streamed down your reddened cheeks. It had been years since he’d seen you this close, yet you looked young and pretty. The prettiest he’s ever seen you, even with tears glistening on your pretty face.

✧ “I hate you so much,” your voice cracked with pain and resentment as you spoke to him. Your Obito. The revelation that he was still alive, but causing so much pain and suffering shattered your world, leaving you emotionally fractured. “Why? Why do all of this? Why hurt so many?” You ask, searching his face for remorse but finding none, “Because this world is broken,” he answers steadily, his voice awfully gentle to you. “You have nothing in this reality,” his arms open, showing you the distress and chaos that is currently occurring around you. He wanted you to see how your comrades laid lifeless—to make you understand that you lost your friends, your family, your ‘happy ending’. “ Let this happen, and you will be forever happy,” he pauses briefly, searching for the right words to say. He chose his words carefully, locking eyes with you, “With me. With a better version of me. One that will keep you happy for the rest of your life,” Despite your heart-wrenching cries, he did nothing to stop this war. As you wept before him, he knew your pain would be temporary. He knew that once his plan took action—the infinite Tsukuyomi—you would find happiness. Even if you hate him now, he reassured himself, you wouldn’t think the same after his plan was completed.

Obito Uchiha (Shinobi)

✧ Obito, a strong and beloved jonin from the Leaf village, stood there, his chest tightening at the words that just came out of your mouth. His expression shifted as his mind struggled to comprehend what you had said. Suddenly, without a second thought, his words slipped through his lips as he tried to make sense of what you told him, “What… did you say?” he asked carefully, his eyes frantically darting over your face as if searching for an answer. You met his gaze, repeating your words with unwavering conviction, “I said, I hate you,”

✧ As you repeat yourself, Obito’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, his throat constricting as it became harder to breathe. He could handle any other response, any other thing you could have said, but hearing your harsh words was almost too much for him. “Why? What did I do? I don’t understand,” he manages to ask in desperation, trying his best to move closer to you. His heart clenched and turned inside his chest, and he boiled with fear. He loves you! He loves you to the moon and back! Why would you say that you hate him when he eats, sleeps, and breathes for you? You were his everything, so how could you hate him when he loved you so dearly?

✧ “Because you never notice how much I try for you. You’re always looking for Rin’s approval, and what about me? I’m left in the dark with nothing. I’m done with you. I’m done with trying to make you realize I’ve been in love with you for years,” you pour your heart out to him, desperate and hurt, and that’s when he realizes what this was about. Though his heart slightly fluttered at your revelation, he still felt awful for the way you were feeling all this time. The tingling sensation in the back of his mind kept bothering him as he examined every inch of your expression. “That’s… why?” He asks with a drop of his shoulder, sighing in pure relief at your confession, which only fueled the burning anger inside you. “I thought it was for something else I might’ve done… (Y/N), I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but I’m in love with you,” his confession caught you in surprise, his voice revealing his true feelings with no hesitation. What once was nervousness and anxiety had now been replaced with determination as he yearned to seek for a solution. It was true, he was deeply in love with you, but people still thought he had something for Rin when he didn’t. However, he did hide the fact that he liked you out of fear of another rejection. With Rin, he handled it well, but with you? He wouldn’t be able to take it. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel horrible. I’m sorry I never noticed, and I’m sorry I hid it from you for so long. I love you, over anything there is in this world. The only thing I want is you, always and forever you,”

Madara Uchiha

✧ “I hate you,” your words felt like a slap to the face, making Madara turn around to face you swiftly. Although his face was deemed expressionless, his body tensed and tightened the more he processed your words. He had obviously been taken aback by your audacity to say such things, but he tried his best to hide his discomfort. With arms crossed over his chest, he scoffed and parted his lips, ready to give you a piece of his mind. “Get over it, woman,” he snarls at you with authority, and slight annoyance. You, his wife, should never say that to him. He’s given you everything; a home, a family, and more importantly, love. “You are acting like a child over something that should have never pestered you in the first place,” although your words had not hit him hard when you first spat them, they started to annoy him the more they set in, “If you hate me, why even decide to say yes when I proposed? If you are going to bother me with such nonsense, I will not bother with you,”

✧ His words were meant to hurt you as much as you hurt him, and when he notices the pain in your eyes, he’s satisfied… until he’s not. Until that annoying tingling feeling lingers under his skin as he watches your eyes brim with tears. The tingling feeling that pulled on the tendons of his heart any time you cried was crawling under every inch of his body. “Oh please, do not start with the tears,” he groaned in annoyance, but the salty tears were already streaming down your puffy cheeks. Despite this, he didn’t move an inch to comfort you, but watched you as you cried for a couple of minutes until he released an exasperated sigh. “Why? Why do you care so much for those people when all they have done is hurt you?” He asks with irritation, referring to your clan members who’ve hurt you in the past. He has said something out of line, and you argued with him about it, which ended you two up here.

✧ “Because we should be better people than them. Violence should never be the answer,” you sniffle with clenched fist, “But that is something you seem to never stop thinking about,” you admit, trying to hold in your tears. You didn’t want to keep crying like this in front of him. You wanted to be strong, “And if you think I am such a burden, then why keep this ring on my finger—,” you were surprised when his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from taking off the ring he had gifted you the night he proposed, “Because I know who I married. The same nagging woman I am with now, is the same nagging woman I fell in love with. If I had any regrets of marrying you, you would be back in your clan,” he scoffs and pulls your head to his chest with an annoyed expression “I love you, you stupid woman,” to any other person, your relationship might’ve seemed strange, but to you, this moment showed you just how much he truly loved you. Even if he has weird ways of showing it.

Shisui Uchiha

✧ Wait, he didn’t quite hear you well. Wait, what did you say? He turned towards you with a raised brow, his mouth slightly parted as he tried to figure out if you had said what he thought you said. Noticing his lost expression, you had no choice but to repeat yourself, much to your annoyance “I hate you,” this time, he did hear you. Loud and clear. To him, it felt like he took hours to respond to you, but in reality, his answer left his mouth almost immediately, “No you don’t,” It wasn’t meant to be cocky, it just sounded like it was. At least, to you it sounded cocky, and it made you even angrier with him. It annoyed you that he never took you seriously, “Oh, so now you think you know how I feel, do you?” you spat at him, hands clenching into tight fists as your eyes locked intensely, “You never care about anything! You come home and sleep and don’t even have time for me. I know you have a hard job, and I don’t expect you to be there at my beck and call, but at least asking me how I am would be enough,” you stressed, waving your arms frantically around you in desperation. You had been like this all week, stressed and unable to talk to anyone, because the only person you could ever rant and banter about things that bothered you in life was barely there for you, and when he was, it was like he wasn’t! He would barely listen to you anymore, and would expect you to listen to him. And you did, you always did. But you wanted something in return, and that was a sliver of his attention.

✧ “You're telling me you hate me over something so little?” he asks with furrowed brows, making you even more annoyed, “Over something so little?” You repeated through gritted teeth. His face, for once, contorted into one of annoyance, something you had never seen on him before, “Yes! Little! Because you know how my line of work is! You know that I barely have time to sleep, let alone waste my time with useless banter!” You were left speechless, standing in front of him with hurt eyes. “Yeah, useless. You’re right. Because my feelings don’t matter,” you scoff, “That’s not what I—” you interrupt him by turning away, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as realization finally hits him. You weren’t trying to waste his time, you just wanted to spend time with him. He had been so lost in his work, so busy caring for himself that he completely neglected you.

✧ “Oh darling,” he takes your hand again, a frown painting his face, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I’m just stressed out. Everything's happening so fast, and the clan isn’t helping at all.” he sighs and pulls you in towards him, engulfing you in his tight embrace, yet you didn’t say anything, “I know I’ve been neglecting you, and you deserve better. Please, let me make it up to you,” he whispers into you hair as he lowers down to kiss your head, “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t have you by my side,”

Itachi Uchiha

✧ “I hate you,” you mumble under your breath as you look at your lover. No, he wasn’t your lover anymore. He had left the village years ago, leaving you behind with a broken heart and a broken image of him. He was a monster who murdered his entire clan, and even though he had left years ago, he still looked the same as when he was still in the village, with only one difference. Those eyes. Those red eyes that stared deep into your soul. They terrified you. The eyes that you once loved and cared about so much looked down at you with no emotion. They were empty. They were dark. They were hurt. “I hate you, for everything that you did,” you pushed him, backing away from him with angry eyes. His cloak told you everything you needed to know. He was part of the Akatsuki, he was the enemy now. He was a traitor, and although your words were meant to hurt him, he closed his eyes and nodded, understanding your hatred towards him. “I understand,” he says in such a soft voice. His voice that you missed so much.

✧ You didn’t understand why he came to visit you. Why come in the middle of the night to see you? Why? Why waste his breath coming back to see you when he knew you wanted nothing to do with him? Because this would be his final goodbye. There were only a handful of people Itachi cared for—Two, to be exact. His brother, and the love of his life. He knew that soon he’d perish, and this was the final time he would ever see you again. Not that it mattered. He tried not to think about it, thinking it would make things worse. It would be better if he never came to see you, but his heart got the best of him, and so he sat there at your window, looking at you for one final time.

✧ “You don’t,” you clench your fist, hurt by his mere presence, “I don’t want anything to do with you, and I will report you to the higher ups. Unless you came here to kill me, which I don’t doubt,” you were defenseless, but you wouldn’t go out without a fight. Never. You would fight until the very end, but soon you realized he wasn’t there to kill you. “I have no need for that,” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “I came by my own selfishness. I don’t expect you to understand, and I accept your hatred, which I deserve,” he looks at you, red eyes burning into yours, “I simply wanted to see you for a final time,” he smiles and reaches out for you, pushing your hair out of your face, “My love,” and with that, your vision goes black as your consciousness slips away from you. You would wake up the next day tucked into your bed with a necklace tucked tightly in your hand.

Sasuke Uchiha

✧ Words never hurt this Uchiha, he was used to every awful thing anyone could throw at him. He cared too little about anything and everything, and that's what you hated the most about him. He barely cared about anything you did or said, at all times. He didn’t care how you looked because he never complimented you, he didn’t care how you acted because he barely spoke to you. You felt like you were in a relationship with a ghost, in fact, the comparison was not even close, because dating a ghost would be ten times better than this. And with every passing day of being emotionally neglected by your partner, today was no different. He was back in the village, and instead of coming to you first—to his home—he decided it was better to meet with Naruto and Sakura over seeing his wife who waited patiently everyday for him. You questioned if the ring on your finger meant anything to him at all at that moment. Despite this,

✧ When he got home, you were so happy, yet he showed no sign of interest in anything you did for him. You cooked and he ate, saying nothing about the taste of your new recipe. In fact, he seemed like he didn’t notice that you had learnt to cook a new dish just for him. Even so, you shrugged his annoying attitude off and asked about his day instead. Your question seemed to annoy the tired man as he became uninterested in mid conversation. When you asked him what was wrong, he shrugged you off. You kept questioning him until he snapped at you, telling you how you were annoying him with all your worries. This had been the final straw. You always gave everything in the relationship. You understood he wasn’t the best at showing his emotions, but it didn’t mean he could act like he didn’t care about you. Like you were nothing. The argument got heated and it ended up with you opening your mouth without thinking. “I hate you!” After your words fell out of your mouth, the room fell silent. He who had been looking away from you, had now turned his full attention towards you, “You don’t mean that, stop being dramatic,” the sight of him rolling his eyes hurt you more than it ever did. “You don’t care about anything, Sasuke. I do everything to try and please you. I could even say I live for you, but it’s never enough! You don’t take a sliver of your time to appreciate me. You think I have to be there for you whenever you need me, but can just leave whenever you want!” you yell, hitting the wall in frustration.

✧ “You don’t care about me! You don't love me anymore!” you were in a current state of pure anger, letting out everything you ever wanted to say to him. This makes him stand up and walk towards you, taking your wrist in his hand. You look up at him, tears of frustration prickling in the corner of your eyes. “If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have married you. You mean a lot more to me than you think. I… I’m sorry if I don’t show it,” he sighs, “I love your cooking, I love your stories—I love hearing about everything that happened throughout your day. You’re the only thing I can think about when I’m away,” he lets go of your wrist and places a hand on your cheek, “Don’t hate me, because you’re the only important thing in my life. You’re my wife, and I…” he stops himself, trying to build the courage to complete his sentence. A small blush decorates his cheeks before he sighs, “I care for you a lot,” your husband wasn’t perfect, but you still loved him a lot, and you knew he loved you too.

[leighsartworks216]

Hi hi! I saw your requests are open and I really love your writing. There's a scene I saw on yt from bg3 where Raphael just magics Astarion's clothes off and I was wondering if you could write something where Tav covers him up or snaps at Raphael over the invasion of his privacy. Here's the clip btw

https://youtube.com/shorts/RJyurXglAHM?si=YNBC5POkV0j2Zns4

OH MY GOD I saw this prompt and literally could not stop writing until I was finished

Warnings: non-consensual undressing (by Raphael), slight arguing, swearing, trauma

Word Count: 1,139

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Now, let’s talk about you.” Raphael turns his burning attention to Astarion. “I sense there’s something you want to ask me.”

“I do. I have a… proposal for you.”

“A proposal? If you’re hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey.”

You can feel Astarion’s whole body tense beside you with agitation. “This is serious business… devil.” The anger fades into discomfort. “My old - well, a long time ago, someone carved some runes into my back. I’d like to know what they say.”

Raphael hums as he contemplates the deal before him. You turn to your companion, confused. “What are you talking about, Astarion? What scars?” It’s not as upset as the spawn expects it to be. Truly, he was fully prepared for you to round on him for hiding something from you for so long.

He never got the chance to be… intimate with you. He tried, of course, he was uncomfortably desperate for the safety it would bring him. But, somehow, you saw past him. Through him. You saw the seduction for the act it was. And, somehow, you stayed with him anyway. He just, well, forgot to tell you about them. He told you of Cazador, of course. Just, not what he did to him.

Raphael was all too pleased with your confusion, smirking. “You haven’t told them? And you’ve kept your clothes on this whole time? How unlike you.” You stare sharply at the devil. He was enjoying teasing Astarion too much. But then it really went too far. With a lilting, “Why not let them see? Don’t be shy,” he snaps his fingers and Astarion’s clothes disappear in an orange glow.

You don’t even think as you immediately unclasp your cloak and wrap it around his shoulders. He’s more surprised you covered him up than Raphael un-covering him. You act as a barrier between the two, holding Astarion’s shoulders to keep the cloak covering him and glaring venomously over your shoulder at the devil.

Before you can spit vitriol at him, he’s trying to soothe the tension. “Don’t worry - I’m motivated to help you.” His teeth show as he smirks wider. “Scars often tell such wonderful stories - I think yours might be truly exquisite. I’ll see you soon.”

And just like that, in a puff of flame and smoke, he’s gone. You turn back to Astarion.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes widen, shocked. “I’ve been keeping a secret as wide as my back - literally - from you all this time, and you’re worried about me? Aren’t you, I don’t know, angry? Betrayed? Ready to kick me out of our little group?”

You frown. “No, of course not.”

He can’t wrap his head around it. Your face says you're upset, but your eyes shine with sympathy and worry. You mean it. Why?

“But I lied to you!”

“You didn’t tell me - it’s different.”

He scoffs bitterly. “A lie of omission is still a lie, darling.”

“Did you do it out of malicious intent?”

His face scrunches up. “Why should that matter?”

“Well, did you?”

“No! Not on purpose, anyway. There may have been some… selfishness.”

“Then you were doing it to protect yourself?”

“What are you-”

“I’m not angry, Astarion.” His mouth lingers open, but the words die in his throat. You squeeze his shoulders. “You kept a secret to protect yourself, not to trick me. You had your reasons for not telling me, and that’s okay. I’m not angry.”

He’s quiet. Shadowheart and Gale had backed away some time ago, giving you as much privacy as they could while you fought. Not that it was much of a fight. You’re grateful for it, nonetheless. Astarion has a hard time being genuine when it’s just you two; he almost never lets his guard down around anyone else.

He sighs. It’s shaky and quiet, but you can feel the shudder in his shoulders. He looks down at himself. He’s in nothing but his underwear and your cloak. His stomach is still largely exposed, and he grabs the edges of the fabric to close it the rest of the way. It feels… safe. He’s terrified, of course - he’s in his skivvies out in the open. But the way you immediately covered him up. He’d never dreamed of anything like it.

“I’ll find you some clothes. I should have something tucked away.”

You’re slow to release him. You pull the cloak to wrap more evenly around him, and then you’re kneeling on the floor, rifling through your stuff. Your face is set in determination. Your eyes are keenly focused on your search. A warmth fills his chest.

When he speaks, it’s barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

You don’t turn from your task, but he can see your soft smile. It eases him even more. Soon enough, you’ve pulled out a loose shirt, some pants, and a spare pair of boots. He has no idea how or why you carry spare clothes around, but he really shouldn’t be questioning it when they’re suddenly the most important thing in the world.

“Here. They may be a bit big, but they’ll do until I can threaten Raphael to give your armor back.” He chuckles and takes the clothes you offer him. “I’ll go talk to the others and start working out a plan.”

“Wait.” He grabs your wrist before you can even start to turn away. He opens his mouth like he wants to speak. Thank you again, apologize for creating this mess, something. But he can’t find the words. You wait, ever patient. And, gods damn it all, your expression is so open and kind - he can’t help cupping your face in his hands and drawing you in for a kiss.

It’s soft at the same time it’s passionate. A quiet thank you for everything. For your kindness, your patience, your protection. You don’t know where to put your hands. You touch his shoulder hesitantly, wanting to pull him close but not wishing to touch him where he’d be uncomfortable. It makes his undead heart ache even more.

His hands leave your face to slide down your arms, guiding your hands underneath the cloak and around his back. Even with his guidance, you’re reluctant to touch him, but then your hands, warm and gentle, glide across the raised skin. You press into him, kissing him harder as thanks for his trust.

When you pull away, you press your forehead to his, breaths fanning over his face as you catch your breath. He leaves one last kiss at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you.”

You smile. He watches fascinated as your eyes become filled to the brim with fondness. You squeeze his waist and slide your arms from under the cloak, stepping back carefully. “Get dressed,” you say. “I’ll be just around the corner.”

---

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[asksimonbelmont]

If you had a daughter and she said she wanted to marry a vampire, how would you react?

Simon Belmont has so rarely needed to direct anger towards his children. Even as they’ve matured into adults, Simon is revered for the calm manner in which he handles all Belmont family affairs, as the reigning patriarch.

But when his only daughter—his youngest, no less—comes to him seeking his blessing for marriage, Simon shows a level a callousness that is reserved only for his worst enemy.

“It is out of the question, Sonia, and you would do well not to entertain the idea any longer.” He concludes, voice low.

He has heard enough of her appeal. And at his resounding refusal, Selena can only watch as her daughter tenses.

Watches with growing sorrow as Sonia fights back against her father.

“Father,” Sonia’s voice is firm, having built herself up gradually against his worsening mood “I assure you, it isn’t what you think—”

“It is clear that you have been thralled into complying with him.” Simon seethes, domineering the space. “I trusted that you could handle yourself against vampires, but I see now that I have been too careless in raising you.”

Sonia opens her mouth to speak, but Simon’s rage still burns:

“You will not marry our sworn enemy. I will not give you my blessing, and should you insist on disobeying me, then you dishonour your Belmont name, and all of your ancestors who have fought before you.”

Selena watches as Sonia processes this, fists balled at her sides.

“Simon,” Selena tries, reaching out a soothing hand on his back. “You mustn’t be so callous. It has taken tremendous courage for Sonia to ask for your blessing.”

“With respect, my love, I ask that you hold your tongue.” Simon frowns, shooting her a disapproving glare. “We have been much too soft on her.”

Selena stands a little taller, mirroring Simon’s frown as her hand slips off of his back. She takes a few paces towards Sonia.

Simon watches as Selena slides a supporting hand on her daughter’s shoulders, instead. A soothing gesture. But she says nothing to her.

“He’s a good man, father.” Sonia tries, defeated, with her head still bowed.

“The only good vampire is one laid to rest.” Simon underlines with malice he didn’t know he was capable of. “You have been thralled into believing otherwise.”

“What of Alucard, then?” Sonia retorts, lifting her head. She stares towards Simon with surmounting vitriol. “Would you liken Alucard to a vampire better off dead?”

Simon’s jaw tightens at that, swallowing his building rage at her blatant disrespect towards her heritage. “Do not challenge me, daughter. This discussion is over.”

“Answer my question, father!” Sonia steps towards him, despite Selena’s attempt to stay her where she is.

In reply, Simon unwinds the whip from his hip, gripping hard on the leather.

“Unless your beloved has revoked his vampire heritage as Alucard did, I will see to it that I slay him myself.”

Selena gasps at that. “Simon, stop this cruelty!”

“Hold your tongue, Selena!” Simon roars at her, stalking towards both, and Simon doesn’t know whether to be impressed or infuriated that both women are standing their ground.

But he can see that Sonia is becoming affected. He only hopes that she might some day understand that he is only doing this out of love and desire to protect her.

By any means necessary.

“It is Alucard.” Sonia tries, at last, strength dissipating as her father towers over her. “The man I want to marry is Alucard, father.”

And that, more than anything else,

causes Simon to boil over.

“Enough! I will not hear any more disrespect!” He shouts. “You are a fool for believing such a bold-faced lie! I did not raise you to succumb so easily to a vampire’s trickery!”

“I invite you to confirm for yourself!” Sonia retorts, eyes glistening with tears. “I have faith that Alucard is strong enough to stand his ground against you, weakened by your years!”

And to that, Selena finally interjects, hoping to diffuse as she gently eases Sonia back:

“Sonia, that’s enough.”

“Bring him here.” Simon accepts the challenge, voice dark and low. “Or would you prefer I seek him out myself?”

And to that, the Vampire Killer in Simon’s hand suddenly resonates with a pulsating warmth.

Both women watch with growing unease as Simon heeds the call, bursting from the Belmont hold with rejuvenated energy.

Outside the hold, a figure stands, leather-clad and cloaked.

It does not move as Simon approaches.

It does not move as Simon winds his whip back, straight to task on snapping it forward to strike it.

[ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense]

Why the hell do you hate indie animation so much? Its not their creators’s faults if they don’t get picked up. I don’t know of anybody else who uses the term “indie darling” in such a condescending, hateful way either. Fuck you and your hateful, cynical bullshit, you joyless little dipshit. Your constant misery and vitriol towards some of the most fun, creative, enjoyable media being made today makes me sick to my fucking stomach. Its like watching a lazy stereotype from a sitcom, but in real life, and it really opened my eyes to how hopelessly addicted to misery that some people are.

This is some of the most terminally online, sad fucking shit that I’ve ever seen. Do you have any real, genuine opinions, or is your terminally misery-poisoned mind just ALL ragebait and mindless reactionary anger at this point??!!!! I swear, I’d have to go on multiple goddamn Qanon forums or several far right manbabies online just to even HOPE of seeing the amount of toxicity and mindless anger. That you vomit out every hour on the fucking hour. I can’t imagine how people seeing this flood of hate and misery more than once every two weeks could be in any way a mentally healthy thing to do. I don’t think that there is ANYBODY fucking alive right now in more desperate need of even just a tuft of grass to touch. Than you and your equally fucking misery poisoned enablers.

Oh well look who decided to show their face again

[full-moon-ships]

Ship: Graves/Hound

Cws: Internalized homophobia

World count: 1,089

Summary: They're done.

Notes: Dinner is served, enjoy

Hound had enough.

Nearly a year into this "relationship" and he was finally done. Done being a secret. Done being something to be ashamed of.

So, he asked to speak with Graves privately. The two slipped into his office and, misunderstanding the situation, Graves tries to go in for a kiss. Hound pushes him back, a stern look on his face. He won't give in.

"We need to talk."

Graves pouts insincerly, "Oh, love. What have I done now?" He jokes.

"Actually, it is something you've done. Im done," Hound says simply, "you can't keep treating me like this."

Graves looks genuinely confused when he asks "Treatin' you like what?"

"Like something you need to hide. Something you're ashamed of."

Smiling, Graves tries his best to wrap his arms around Hound, only deterred by the others squirming, "Oh, dear, I don't think that of you," he says in his honey sweet tone he uses to get his way.

"But you do. You refuse to go public, refuse to give me even the smallest affection in public. Not to mention all the gross shit you say about gay people. You need to work on yourself before we continue in this relationship."

Graves scoffs, "Hun, you know I don't mean what I say. I just have a reputation to keep up. Can't let the men think I'm weak."

Hound pinches the bridge of his nose, "That! That right there is what I'm talking about! You genuinely think that if you came out that the others would see you as weak, that being gay makes you weak! It doesn't. But you can't see that. Do you know how it feels? Hearing your commandin officer spew hate and vitriol towards a group your part of? To hear him say how you 'Ain't worth shit in the real world'? It fucking hurts. I'm done having to pretend I don't love you, and if you can't man up, say it back, and be okay with others knowing than this ends here."

Graves paused, but only for a moment. His mind was made, no qualms about it, "I won't let them think I'm unfit to lead," he says, "respectfully, you ain't worth giving up all that I've worked for," he opens to door to his office, gesturing out, "been nice talkin' to you, soldier."

So Hound leaves. He doesn't look back. He knew this would happen, knew the choice Graves would make before he even posed the question.

And he thrives once out of the relationship. The other soldiers ask him what happened, noticing the change in him, noticing he's the happiest he's been in a year. All he says is that he got out of a bad relationship. They congratulate him, of course. They're so happy for him.

But their Commander, on the other hand? They notice something off about him aswell. He's quick to anger and there's always this far-off look in his eyes. Like he's not really there. He says nothing, never giving them an answer as to why he's changed.

A few month after their separation, Graves breaks.

He realizes, late one night over a bottle of beer, how much he misses Hound. How much he meant to him. He cries. And he realizes how Hound must have felt. To hear all those awful things about him and the people he related to. How horrible it was for him to hear the man he loved spew such hate. And he vows to make it up to him in anyway he can. Even if he doesn't get a second chance. He wants to be better.

So, he researches, buys some flowers, and shows up at his door.

He shifts around nervously before knocking on the door to his room. He waits. And when he sees Hound he could cry.

Nervously, he hands the other man the flowers, "I wanted to apologize. I realize how shitty I was when we were together and want to let you know that I see how I had hurt you, and want to do better."

"And... the flowers?"

"Oh. The purple ones mean sorrow, the red-ish ones mean lasting affection, the other red ones mean deep love or heartache, and the ferns are for a secret bond, and they add some foliage. I thought you would appreciate them."

Hound smiles at Graves for the first time in months, "I do. Thank you so much, Phillip. Come in," he invites.

Stepping into his quaters, Phillip takes it all in for the first time. Its so uniquely Hound. The posters, the desk, even the little analog clock feels like him.

Coughing, he stands a little straighter, "I wanted to um. Tell you. I still have feelings for you, honestly. Losing you was the hardest thing I've been through, and we fight in active war zones every other day. What i mean is, I don't want to lose you for good. I want to be a better man. And i want you to be there along side me."

"Graves-"

"I love you."

Hound pauses. Through their entire relationship Graves never said it back. And here he was, handing Hound flowers and finally saying those three words. Hesitantly, he speaks, "I... love you too," he sighs.

Phillip smiles, and tries to speak again before getting cut off.

"But. Things are going to be different. We're going to be public. I want the others to know about us, and I need you to publicly tell them. Okay?"

"Okay. I was planning to anyway. I want to apologize to everyone for what I've said, and formally say hatred has no place in our unit. That I only said those things because I hated myself."

"Good. Not- not the hating yourself part. Everything else."

Phillip smiles, "I know."

The next day during breakfast in the mess he says he has an announcement. Everyone quiets down. He calls Hound up.

"I don't want to keep things from you boys. So, I have a little something to say. Me and Hound... are together. Romantically." There's a round of cheers and applause, some money being exchanged, before they quiet back down. "And," he says, "I want to formally apologize for any homophobic remarks I've made. I know the damage can't be undone, but moving forward I want it known that any kind of hatred against your fellow soldiers is not welcome here. At the time, I was ashamed of who I am. Of who I loved. But I never should have taken it out on others. I'm sorry."

[megatraven]

Hades speaks with MC's spirit snippet

Her spirit flickers in and out in his presence, much like the flame of a candle tries to escape the wick it’s bound to. He knows she doesn’t want to be there, least of all with him- but he refuses to let go without getting the answers he seeks, no matter which rules he breaks to do it.

“Stop trying to leave,” he says, cold enough that it catches him off guard, even as her spirit resolidifies. In an attempt to save face, he tacks on, “Please.”

She doesn’t say a word, turning away from him with arms crossed. He catches the irritation- and the fear- that crosses her face before the back of her is all he can see.

“I’m just trying to understand why you did it,” he says again, exasperated with her refusal to cooperate. Not even the Lord of the Underworld can force a spirit to respond. “You could have talked to me.”

“…”

“MC-“

“You could have listened when I did,” she whispers, voice raw in a way that the dead shouldn’t be capable of. It’s warped from her emotion, torn from her lips by sheer force of will.

His hackles rise at the accusation in her words despite the sorrow he feels towards her. He was never anything but there for her, even when she grew difficult, even when she stopped listening to him. He was always there, always ready for her to crack and trust him to say what was on her mind; it wasn’t his fault that she never did it. She had let her emotions get the best of her, let despair make her silent when communication was most important. His brow furrows as he combs back through that last month, and even the year leading up to it.

Each and every worry that she had, no matter how unfounded or trivial- he was there, welcoming her into his embrace with open arms. He did his best to show his love and support, and, sure, there were a few times he got frustrated with her, but he always gave her the time she needed to work through any problems they had. That wasn’t unusual, though. He was a god, and she a human. They were bound to clash from time to time.

And yet…

He remembers how she tore her ring off of her person, breaking the chain it had been on before throwing it back at him. His response then makes him wince now, the way he had simply walked away from her with both of their rings in hand.

And how he took his off, too.

Swallowing down the lump that’s formed in his throat, he straightens his posture and tugs at his tie, staring down at her.

“I’ve always listened.”

“You always reprimanded. Or insulted. Or shushed. Or ignored me and did what you thought was best. You were always so angry with me.”

“You wouldn’t trust me,” he snaps, and the look she sends him over her shoulder, one full of vitriol, turns his brief stint of anger into shame. He clears his throat, lowering his gaze in apology. “You should have trusted me.”

“You should have earned my trust.”

“We were getting married-“

“You were going to let them kill me!” she yells, whipping around and stepping up to him so fast that he backs away, no matter the fact that she can’t touch him.

[scarletsaphire]

Sam has been spacing out more and more lately. the fact that she keeps spacing out looking at Paulina is a coincidence. Obviously.

---

Day two for Shiptember!

Sam tapped her pencil across the notebook, letting the vibrations it sent up her arm wash away any conscious thought. Mr. Lancer was still droning on at the front of the room, but she wasn't process a word he was saying. In fact, Sam wasn't processing much of anything. She was tired, which was normal for her, but it was affecting her more than it normally did. It didn't matter much. She was doing fine in school, and as much as she hated it, no one would fail her anyway. Her parents donated too much money to the school board for them to risk angering them. 

Distantly, Sam noticed movement from the students around her. Had the bell rang already? She hadn't heard it if it had. Maybe there was some kind of school trip? She let the movement fade back into her peripheral. If it was some kind of sports game or whatever, it didn't involve her, and if it was the bell, Danny and Tucker would come find her sooner or later. 

The indistinguishable blob of pink that had been in the center of her vision became bigger, more clear. Sam tried to ignore it; she really did. But then that blob of pink opened her stupid pretty mouth, and Sam was forced back into focus. "You're staring again." 

Sam knew that Paulina couldn't see her blush; it was one of the many reasons she wore so much foundation. Her goth image wouldn't last long if people realized just how often she blushed. "I wasn't staring," Sam said, using her many years of practice to pump as much venom into her voice as she could. "You were just in the way."

Paulina leaned on the desk, smiling teasingly down at Sam. "And earlier, in geometry? Or in chemistry? Was I just in the way for all of those?"

Sam was less certain that her blush wasn't showing through her foundation as her cheeks flared hotter. She broke Paulina's gaze, looking at the floor. "Yes." 

Paulina laughed, not the normal sharp laugh she used to make fun of students, but a true, soft laugh. "You don't have to lie to me, chica. I know I'm beautiful. Who wouldn't fall for me?"

Sam flung her head back around to face Paulina, mouth open in a rebuttal, but the reply died in her throat. Paulina had lowered herself further, letting her head rest in her hands, propped up against the desk. Her hair fell over her shoulder, fanning out over the desk. Sam had always had a soft spot for dark hair, and Paulina's was almost perfectly black, even under the harshness of the classroom's fluorescents. 

Paulina noticed Sam's shock, she was sure. She could see it in the widening of her devious grin and the crinkling at the corner of her eyes. Still, she said nothing, leaving Sam to fumble for a response. "I don't know what you're talking about," Sam settled on finally. It didn't have the vitriol that she normally threw towards Paulina, but sue her. She wasn't used to being looked at with anything but mild disdain in those enchanting eyes. 

"Well, then I don't see any need to tell you that I'll be at that new coffee shop that opened at the mall at six," Paulina said. She removed the hand from under her chin, standing up fully. "It's the one with all those weird antiques. Seems like the kind of place you'd enjoy." Paulina started to walk away.

"Are you asking me on a date?" Sam blurted out. She realized what she said, and this time she knew that there was absolutely no way Paulina couldn't tell she was blushing. 

"If you want it to be," Paulina said over her shoulder.

"I never said yes," Sam pointed out. 

"Then I guess I'll have to get coffee by myself." With that, Paulina walked out of the classroom, Sam's eyes trailing her the whole way. Traitors.

Sam bit at the bottom of her lip, before gathering up her things to leave the now empty classroom. She had to find Danny and Tucker. She wouldn't be joining them for ghost hunting tonight. She had other plans. 

[grahamstoney]

The Survivor Approach To Dealing With Difficult Neighbours

New Post has been published on https://grahamstoney.com/relationships/survivor-approach-dealing-difficult-neighbours

The Survivor Approach To Dealing With Difficult Neighbours

Over the last few years, I’ve adopted a strategy for dealing with troublesome neighbours based on the theme of the reality TV show Survivor: Outwit, Outplay, Outlast. Well, maybe not so much outwit and outplay, but outlast seems to be working for me with these people:

Annoying neighbours? Beat ’em at their own game

Cranky Old Men

First up was nasty neighbour Charles. I first met Charles while exploring the common property soon after buying my apartment. He a relatively short man around his mid 70s, with dark black hair, and a slight arch in his back which suggested that he was past his peak and was now growing shorter rather than taller. At first, Charles oozed charm and smarm: he was very friendly and welcoming in a rather disarming kind of way.

But things turned nasty only a couple of weeks later at the first body corporate meeting. The hot item on the agenda was wrestling control of the gardens on the common property from Charles, and employing a professional gardener to do the job instead. It was obvious as a newcomer that there was considerable conflict over the way the gardens should be managed, and agreeing to get a proper gardener in to do it was a no-brainer. Charles had been doing the gardens forever as though they were his personal property, and there was some suggestion that he’d been billing the body corporate for materials that didn’t exist and that he wanted to be paid for his efforts. The problem was that his efforts weren’t what the rest of the owners seemed to want, and this was generating conflict.

Now you might think “What’s the big deal, it’s just a garden, right?” Well, yes and no; yes, it was just a garden, but it was also a symptom of a deeper problem in the way Charles got on with the other owners and residents in the building. As the meeting degenerated into a slanging match over past grievances, I decided that being super-assertive might be a nice way to introduce myself:

“Look, as a new owner, I have no interest whatsoever in what has happened in the past. It’s really very boring, and frankly I’m not interested in listening to you guys argue. What I am interested in the current situation, and how we’re going to fix it. If you want to discuss the past, do it after the meeting when I’m not here. Clearly there are problems with the garden, and it’s obviously causing conflict on the body corporate. I can’t even open my garage door properly because there’s a tree planted too close to it. Getting a professional gardener in to fix these problems sounds like a great solution to me.”

The chairman of the meeting and most of the other owners appeared relieved, but Charles was incensed. I didn’t even know exactly which parts of the garden we were arguing about, so I suggested we go outside and inspect it. As I led the group around the grounds, I pointed out the tree blocking my garage, and the noxious plants growing up over my balcony. “We’re going to fix this”, I said encouragingly with the unbridled optimism of the new kid on the block, not yet jaded by body-corporate shenanigans.

This made me Charles’s mortal enemy. From that day on, he sent me vitriolic letters full of hatred, interspersed with newsletters from his church which he popped under my door. For a while he had me hooked, sending him courteous replies attempting to correct his misconceptions about me. I was determined to set him straight.

Silly me. Charles was never going to be set straight. Really I was just playing out a pattern of wanting people to like me. Plus the aggression that he used in his attempts to control other people really made me anxious. He lived in his own world of paranoia, and was so easily triggered to anger and spite it was just ridiculous. As an ex-journalist, you would have thought Charles would have the communication skills to get his needs met without so much hostility; but he either didn’t have them, or chose not to use them. He was lonely because he had no friends, and he managed to alienate everyone in his life. Especially his neighbours.

Eventually I gave up trying to make amend with Charles, and just stopped replying to his letters. I felt rude at first, but it was clear that the more energy I put into engaging with him, the more vitriol I got in return. It was a completely lost cause. Charles clearly hated me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Finally Charles fell down the stairs one day, breaking his collarbone, and his spirit. He moved into a nursing home about a year later. Then he died. People usually imply that I’m a bad person when I point out that Charles’s death led to a net increase in the sum of human happiness, but I’m afraid it’s true. There’s a lesson in that for all of us, and it’s not just to be careful on the stairs.

The new owners of Charles’s old unit are really friendly; they even lent me some carpet cleaner the other day when mine ran out, saving me a trip to the shops. Swapping Charles for them has raised the friendliness of the whole building.

Neighbours From Hell

But then there were the neighbours from hell who moved into the apartment directly above me. I swear, these people came straight out of a boiling pit of low self esteem hell, and inflicted it on everyone around them. They were a young couple, with a 2 year old daughter. Let’s call them Rod and Natalie, and their daughter Minnie; I tried to wipe them and their real names from my memory. I’m only revisiting the trauma here as a lesson for you, so I hope you’re grateful.

Rod and Natalie combined the worst aspects of passive aggression with active rage, anger and abuse; making as much noise in the process as they possibly could. Their conversations and arguments were laden with more expletives than a gangsta rap song, fired out thick and fast without even thinking. In fact, there wasn’t a lot of thinking going on from what I could hear; it was just pure nastiness.

Rod’s temper was completely out of control, and he unleashed it on his wife at a moments notice. She’d work herself up into a frenzy and respond in kind, and then they’d slam their doors real hard just to make sure they got the point across how pissed off they were. The two of them kept me up late at night with their arguments, woke me early in the morning slamming doors, and distracted me from my work during the day with their, and their daughter’s, screaming. Their arguments were demeaning, insulting, and laden with words starting with F and C. It took me straight back to childhood and my anxiety about my own parents’ vicious verbal stoushes. And on the odd occasion that Rod and Natalie weren’t hurling abuse at each other, they’d keep me up late at night with loud sex in the bedroom immediately above mine; which was particularly annoying when I wasn’t getting any myself.

I knocked on their door, and rang the police regularly. It would shut them up for a brief while, but they’d start up again the next day. They just didn’t give a damn. And their daughter was living in sheer hell; I’d think “She’s gonna be really damaged. As if having their genes isn’t bad enough, she’s growing up in a minefield.” One day when she was angry, I overheard her say to her mother Natalie “Shut up you fu_k_ng c_nt.” Obviously she’d learned that’s how you deal with anger from her father Rod’s example. She was less that two years old at the time. I started ringing the Department of Community Services Child Protection every time they started yelling, in the hope that enough reports would stack up for someone to take some action to help this poor kid.

One day as I was going out, I bumped into Rod storming down the stairs in a rage hurling expletives of abuse at his wife as he left the building. “Rod, you’re an adult now mate. It’s time you started acting like one”, I said to him as he passed my door. “F_ck you, you c_nt! Mind your own fucking business”, he replied gracefully. Well, I would have minded my business if they didn’t keep screaming theirs into my home all the time. When I returned home that evening, in the split-second before I grabbed my door handle to put my key in it I noticed a huge gob of spit coating the entire door handle and hanging down below. Oh, gross. I managed to unlock and open the door without contacting the offending ectoplasm, reached for the rubber gloves and disinfected my door handle.

The next day, Natalie knocked on my door, looking even more sullen and submissive than usual. She always came across as the classic abused wife with low self-esteem. Barely made eye contact with me. “Can you help me please?”, she asked, “I’ve locked myself out of my apartment. I need to call a locksmith, or get up to the real estate agent or something. Can I borrow your phone please?”

“Well this was bizarre”, I thought, “The wife of the guy who covered my door handle in spit yesterday is asking me for a favour today.” Still, I like to help people, and she’s not responsible for his stupidity. Although by staying with him, she’s coming pretty close in my books. “Sure.”, I said, “I hate it when I lock myself out too”.

I lent her the phone. She called someone. Got it sorted out. “Thanks”, she said as she left.

Later that day at the clothes line, I bumped into Natalie again. No eye contact. Head down. Battered wife syndrome. “Natalie, do you know what Rod did yesterday after he stormed out?”, I said.

“Umm… no?…”, she replied sheepishly.

“He spat on my doorknob. As he left yesterday I told him he was an adult now, and it was time to start acting like one. He told me to F_uck off. When I came home, my doorknob was covered in spit. Huge gobs of spit.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s just coincidence that we had a brief encounter and I came home to find spit on my door. That’s never happened before.”

“But he’s a good guy really.”

“No Natalie, he’s not. I’ve heard your arguments. He abuses you all the time. You don’t deserve that. And what do you think it’s doing to Minnie? You guys disturb me all the time with the door slamming and your arguments. When I knock on your door in the midst of it, you act like nothing’s going on. I’d move to get away from you both if I could, but I own my place. Moving out just to get away from you and Rod would cost me a lot of money.”

“I’m sorry, really.”

Well, what was she to do, really? Her husband’s a moron. The police told me not to knock on their door because he was considered dangerous. They wouldn’t tell me whether he had a firearm or not; but they said to stay away from the guy and just call them instead. Eventually I got tired of calling the police and Child Protection, and decided to take my case to the man upstairs. Or rather, the woman… the owner of their unit.

So I started calling Martina regularly to let her know what was going on. She was a little old lady in her 90’s who didn’t want to cause anyone any trouble. She had heard that Rod and Natalie were causing problems, but was terrified of Rod. She was too afraid to even visit the apartment she owned to inspect it: she thought Rod would kill her. It didn’t help that she was too tight to employ a managing agent who would normally deal with evicting troublesome tenants. Martina mentioned that Rod & Natalies’s lease was up for renewal soon and although she knew they were causing problems, she was going to let them renew because she thought that if she didn’t, they’d just stay anyway.

Oh no. That would be bad. I realised that if I could get Martina to terminate the lease when it came up for renewal, I might get some peace and quiet back. She lived in a house on the other side of the suburb, so I dropped around to visit. I may have taken chocolate; I can’t remember. My aim was to sweet-talk Martina into standing up for herself and kicking Rod & Natalie out. She was very worried about how they would react, and that they might just stay without paying any rent. It turned out their rent was being paid by some government agency; my hard-earned taxes keeping a roof over an idiot like Rod’s head because he was too stupid and violent to get and keep a real job. When I told her that the police would help her evict them if they overstayed, it occurred to me that Martina had grown up in communist Romania and her notion of police was quite different to mine. It reminded her of the secret police, and they just weren’t on her side.

Nevertheless, the sweet-talk worked. After many phone calls and friendly visits, Martina decided to get her daughter to help her with the legal side of terminating the lease and evicting the troublesome tenants. Rod and Natalie were finally out of my hair. I can only hope they’ve set up a trust fund for Minnie’s future therapy and legal bills, and that Child Protection take action to rescue her at some point.

And after all that time I put in developing a good relationship with her, Martina died of old age a few months later.

Couples Who Argue A Lot

The building I live in was built in the late 1960’s, when the idea of talking with your neighbours wasn’t quite so ludicrous. Each pair of units share a laundry, so if nothing else you’ve got a reason to co-operate on who uses the washing machine and when. Before I bought my place I’d knocked on the door opposite to ask what it was like living in the building, and met Michael & Lesley. They seemed a little reserved but otherwise appeared as though they’d make decent neighbours.

However, Michael & Lesley had a stormy relationship. She had a quick temper and it didn’t take much for bursts of expletives to come from her mouth. But she also seemed to calm down pretty quickly too. Fortunately I could block the noise out just by keeping my door closed, and occasionally upping the volume on the remote. Since I shared a laundry with them, I made a special effort to get on with them. It’s pretty simple really: if you want a happy life, try to get on with your neighbours. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Offload your excess steam elsewhere. Try to make peace with the people you live near, not war.

Fortunately Lesley’s aggression was never directed at me. Well, there may have been one incident, but I’ve forgotten about it now, and so did she. I was happy to do my laundry during the week, leaving the washing machine free on weekends. I’d stop to chat whenever I could. Michael was very reserved, but Lesley was quite friendly to me. I stayed well out of their arguments. They were happy to collect my mail for me whenever I was off gallivanting around the country, and I was very grateful.

Eventually the global financial crisis hit, and they both lost their jobs. With no income, they decided to move back to New Zealand where Lesley owned a house, so they wouldn’t have to rent any more. On the morning of the day they left, I managed to drown out their latest argument by meditating with a few extra-loud “aum”s.

Goodbye Lesley and Michael, I don’t particularly miss you; though not nearly as much as I don’t miss Rod, Natalie and Charles.

It’s worth the effort to try to get on with your neighbours. But if that fails, while I don’t recommend doing a Richard Hatch, if you can’t outwit or outplay them, see if you can simply outlast them.

[spaceless-vacuum]

Fandom‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Hermitcraft

Pairing‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Yandere!mumbo x reader

Word count‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ 1,724

Summery‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎  Your fiancé leaves to get a few drinks, and that's when Mumbo decides to make a move. Being tired of you brushing his attempts at courting, Mumbo takes drastic measures.

Misc‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ you have a fiance that is mentioned but never described, they/them pronouns are used for fiance, and some Kidnapping

My hands burned. A deep and dull ache ringing louder as rope dug into them more. Ripples of pain fled to my shoulders as they stretched behind me. No matter how much I pushed or pulled the rope that held me refused to loosen. my mind screamed. Yelling at me to continue fighting for the chance to escape. If only I wasn't so tired. Maybe then I could pull together some amount of effort to break away. There was nothing like that to be found in me. Only the hollow answer of my bones.

How long had I been sitting here trapped? There was no way for me to figure this out on my own, as my phone was taken away in the struggle. I didn't have any clocks facing me in this room of my house. I could hear the clock behind me ticking away, but no matter how much I tried I couldn't turn to look.

There was still a bit of sunlight coming through the window. So only an hour or two? I wasn't sure. If it had been that long, wouldn't my fiancé have come back by now? They only left to get us a few drinks. The store wasn't that far away. I knew that any number of things could have happened to keep them out for longer. If I could hold out until they came home, I would be ok. They would save me.

For now I will continue to find a way out on my own. There was no reason to sit here doing nothing.

Though that sediment was best shared when there was something to do. I had been trying to loosen the rope for a while no, to no luck. Any comfort that somebody out there could hear me was taken away as well. A cloth of some sort hung in my mouth. Making it impossible for me to scream.

No matter what I did, all routes to escape were met with no luck.

I was going to try to scream again when I heard a door open and slam shut. Someone had entered the house. I wasn't alone anymore. an immediate joy filled me, followed by an intense dread. My stomach did flips and tied itself into knots. Stairs creaked underneath someone's weight. I shook in a mixture of anticipation and fear.

Who would open the door?

My savior… or my demise?

I didn't know how to act when I saw him standing in the doorway. Mumbo always loomed. Even when he wasn't trying to, he had this way of making people feel small. The man had the gall to smile when he saw me. In lew of throwing words of vitriol at him I pulled at my restraints. It was all I could, besides glaring, to show my anger.

The annoying smile I gave me made me pull on my restraints more. It hurt. More than the rope digging into my flesh my arms and muscles hurt. I refused to back down. No matter how much it hurt I didn't lessen the pressure. Not even as he walked up to me. Bending over to rest a hand on my chin. Cupping my face and squeezing my cheeks together. My face puckered up. Like when I used to make fish faces in the mirror as a kid.

“I can see you're not happy to see me, my love.” I bit into the bond in my mouth as hard as I could. IT was the only other thing I could think of to get the message across to him. What man could drug and tie you to a chair while still claiming to be your love. If only he could taste the resentment in my thoughts. He would struggle to call me ‘love’ then.

“Why is it that you don't love me? Despite everything I've done for us.” he placed a hand over his chest. The annoying tone in his voice was mock amusement, but I didn't miss the edge to the words as he finished speaking. Good. I was finally getting through to him.

For weeks he wouldn't stop pestering me. I thought of him as being friendly at first. Things changed when he found out I had gotten engaged yesterday. I never would have expected him to ambush me when I was home alone. To destroy all sense of safety and comfort I had near him; and then get upset at me when I refuse to say I loved him.

He acted like he was taking the high road in our arguments. I couldn't understand what delusion made him think he had any right to do this. To even act like this. The kidnapping, or whatever this was, just solidified his insanity in my mind.

My silence was ignored. Just like all of my protests had been before. Mumbo let go of my face and walked behind me out of view. I felt arms wrap around me a moment later. Pulling me close as he held me by the waist, curling around me in a tight gesture. It must have been uncomfortable with the chair between us. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I tried to curl away from his grip when he put his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel several kisses being left against my skin. I didn't feel comfortable with the gesture. It was oddly intimate for someone who was not the one I loved. It just made my stomach curl.

“You fight too much for someone whose life is in my hands now.” To drill in this point he dug his fingers into my legs. Pressing hard as he dragged them up to my stomach. I looked down to watch them. Watch them as they pressed into my skin, leaving behind a trail of redstone. Looking closer his hands were covered with the stuff. Something I hadn't noticed when he first walked in.

Mumbo moved his hands behind me once again. A sound that was all too familiar brought my attention away from my last line of thought. My line of sight focused once more on the doorway in front of me. Any attempt to move my head only increased the blade's pressure on my throat. It was not the first time Mumbo threatened me with a knife.

That didn't make it any easier to deal with.

“I have done everything I can think of. Gone through trials and tributes for you, and yet you refuse to acknowledge me- I mean you even deny all the pain I have gone through for you. For you, my dear.” I tried to ignore his ramblings. Just like I had before. It was harder to do now though. Tied to a chair with a madman behind me pressing a sword to my throat. Where did I go wrong?

“How should I go about proving myself to you?” His breath brushed against my throat as he leaned in. My skin crawled at the feeling. Trying to push myself further away did nothing. I had absolutely no way of escaping.

The front door opened again. Someone else entered the house. I knew who it was, and the knowledge didn't make me feel any better. The footsteps were slow. Not filled with the sense of urgency I felt. I had to get a word of warning out to them. Something, anything, at this point to get them to call the police instead of walking up the stairs.

It was possible for me to try and yell now. It wouldn't be that loud because of the gag, but I could manage. Even if I did, would it be enough? I used to think Mumbo could never hurt me, but the knife pressed against my throat bought my silence. No matter how much I hated the feeling.

“If it weren't for this-” I heard Mumbo pat his chest “-I would have put you in the ground already.”

A hand reached up and removed the cloth from my mouth.

The stairs groaned as someone made their way up them. My love was so close now.

“Please just say you love me. Just say that for me, and this can all end peacefully.” I stayed Silent. I tried so hard to swallow my fear. It was impossible to. He kept increasing the pressure against my throat as the steps got closer. I no longer struggled against the ropes. All the thoughts were gone from my head except one.

I had to warn my fiancé.

The speed at which Mumbo covered my mouth was a surprise. I wasn't able to say a word. Mumbo covered my mouth before a single syllable could leave my mouth. I was devastated. Tears ran down my cheeks as his hand muffled my screams. My nose was covered as well, making it hard to breathe.

“I know you want to say it, and I also know why you can't.” His words were a quiet whisper in my ear. A secret shared between the two of us. I cried and screamed into his hand. Pulling and twisted my arms to do anything to get away. Something was terribly wrong.

His hand didn't smell of redstone.

My body convulsed from the weight of my sobs. I kept trying to scream.

It was Grian who came into view first. Holding them by their hair I saw him drag the limp body behind him. My fiance’s eyes were still open. Staring blankly into the space at my feet. I started into those eyes. Wishing upon everything I had that they would just move. Even if only by an inch. Maybe if I just hoped, and prayed hard enough they would show any sign of life.

It never came.

I had stopped screaming at some point. I only noticed because Mumbo took his hand away from my mouth to close my mouth for me. Tracing his fingers along my jawline as he walked in front of me once more. He traced the lines of my face, as I stared down in horror. I just looked at the lines of what I thought was redstone on my body. Knowing what was known almost made me scream again.

Mumbo took my head and forced me to look at him instead.

“You can’t be with someone who’s dead.”

[hobidreams]

october 1869.

have you been mistaken all along?

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama words: 1.2k contains: a shattering.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 25. start from the beginning?

“Have you been busy today?”

The king asks this as soon as he steps into your chambers, casually kicking off the furled leaf clinging to the bottom of his shoe on the wood outside. The late October wind has lately been littering the palace grounds with the last remnants of summer as most of the plants prepare for their hibernation.

You bow as you watch him cross the space with as much ease as he would his own room, having spent so much time here in the past year. And the question he posed to you as greeting? It would be strange if he had not fallen into the habit of asking it some weeks ago, taking an unexpected interest that is making you steadily feel more and more comfortable with him even though you should be keeping him as far as you possibly can.

(Wasn’t it better when he treated this like an empty affair? Wasn’t that what he wanted?)

The king settles on the edge of the bed as he begins to undo his belt. A singular pat of the blankets beside him indicates that you should join him. And you do, saying, “unfortunately. Two of the cooks accidentally burned themselves today when there was an overflow, and we had just run out of the burn salve, so it was quite frantic. But we managed, and even had dinner prepared without much delay! Though… I was little help in that last part.”

“I remember. You attempted to poison me with yakgwa once.”

“Jeonha! That was an earnest try at making them as a gift!” Nothing more than a besotted young girl’s silly attempt.

He laughs lightly, casually at your protests, the smile that makes you far too fond once again. “I could certainly feel that in every rock-hard bite. Nearly broke my teeth with how earnest they were.” His belt clatters to the floor. “And how are the cooks now?”

“Recovering! And hopefully without much permanent scarring on their hands.”

“Mm. Good.”

Then his own hands are on you, as they always are before long. One slides broadly up over the thin fabric covering your back, fingers spread wide. Another firmly grips your thigh while his head dips low, ready to stake claim to your neck with his lips, the smile still stretched faintly across them. He now knows exactly how to make your breath hitch with just a few strokes. How to have you moaning, whimpering into his ear like his needy woman with the slightest skim of his fingertips over your skin.

Even though the warmth he sparked only blazes higher at his touch, you cannot be carried away. Not just yet.

“Ah, j-jeonha. Please wait.”

You gently ease back, and that is enough to make him pause. He gives you a questioning look, as you’ve never interrupted him like this before.

“It is nearly November,” you murmur.

“I am in possession of a calendar, yes.”

“No, um.” You stare down at your hands. “What I mean is… Daebi-mama. Her birthday… It will be soon.”

You’ve never once broached the subject of the late queen with him in all this time and it instantly feels like a mistake when he stiffens. Yanks his hands back to his own lap, away from you.

You force yourself to go on. “I—I wish to visit her. That is, her tomb… And burn incense. Since it is not too far away that we could feasibly return within the day, I thought it could be nice i-if you wish, jeonha? If you might, perhaps, possibly, like to come with me on that day, together?” The nervous words end up tumbling out all at once, a mess of syllables but at least they’re out. The thoughts have hung heavy on your mind for so many weeks.

He is mute.

Stares at you for long seconds until his brow furrows. His expression draws in so violently that the glare could rival the chill battering against the windows.

“You… Who do you think I am?”

Your mouth falls open at the anger simmering in his voice, groping for words in response but you can’t find them. With a single sentence, you are thrown back into the queen’s chamber, into that awful June day, where you stood at an absolute loss. Vulnerable, and scared. An entire year’s worth of feelings and experiences ago, but the cruel look he gives you now feels the exact same as it did then.

He scoffs. “You think… Honestly, you imagine I have time for such dalliances? To halt an entire day’s worth of business to do such a matter?”

“But the queen—”

“It is frivolous.” His teeth snap together. “Completely unnecessary.”

“J-Jeonha—”

“No. No. It’s ridiculous of you to even suggest it. I have absolutely no need for such a public display that only shows the people how weak and susceptible their king is. I will not lose all that I have earned.”

“I just thought—”

“No.” He stands up altogether in a flurry of fabric, glaring at you down his nose. “No matter what you have thought, that is final.” His hands are tight fists and he’s already sauntering towards the exit.

Your mouth feels numb even as you mumble, stuttering over the words, “a king can have emotions. Can have grief.” But he doesn’t hear. He’s already closed off his ears and, you think, you dread, his heart.

Without a single look further in your direction, he pauses just the once to sweep his belt off the floor and then he’s gone.

This is the first time since last November that he has come to you and left without indulging himself in your body. While you once so fervently wished he would come for the pleasure of your company alone, you didn’t want it like this. Never like this.

You took a risk, and this is where it has left you: reminded of where your place is in this world, in his world. Alone, you let your body fall onto the bed, one palm pressed to the sheets where his heat remains faintly still.

The door flies open, slamming into its frame as the king explodes into his room.

“Jeonha, you’ve returned early?”

Eunuch Kim is in the midst of tidying up some papers as he was instructed before the king left for Hamhwadang Hall. His confused question is answered with a vicious scowl, one that bodes only awful things, and would have made a weaker man shrink back if the he were not already long used to such vitriol. Even if it hasn’t been aimed in his direction for some time now, and Eunuch Kim had let himself believe that he would perhaps never see it with such intense fury again.

“Leave.”

“I have not yet laid out your schedule for Novem—”

Yoongi’s snarl grows even more prominent as he cuts the man off. “Leave. Get out. I don’t want the schedule right now. Just get out!”

Left with no choice, Eunuch Kim bows and quits the room. His heart feels stifling as he walks down the corridor, wondering just what the hell happened with uinyeo-nim to eradicate the rare, pleasant mood the king had left in. Just what, that has undone so many months of quiet, welcome change in an instant.

[dakotacrisis]

Baker Girl (2)

Fine! You win! You broke me down. I wrote a part 2. Will I write a part 3? Who knows! I am easily influenced, I have no life, and the hyperfixation is still here! Enjoy it please!

Read on AO3

---

“NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Nino had about two seconds to react before Adrien grabbed hold of him and dragged him into a storage closet.

“Dude, you nearly ripped off my arm,” Nino grumbled, “Why’d you drag me in here? And why are you so sweaty?”

“Did you know that Marinette has a crush on me?” he demanded. Nino’s eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. “Why did you not tell me?”

“Because Alya would have murdered me.” Nino said, “How did you find out?”

“I uh…” Right, there was no real reason Adrien should know that Marinette has a crush on him. That secret had been told to Chat Noir.

"Doesn't matter. I'm just trying to figure out what to do about it."

"Oh…" Nino slumped back against the storage room door, "Does this mean you're gonna reject her?"

He hated the idea of telling Marinette he didn't want to date her. Especially after yesterday but what else was there to do? He was in love with Ladybug after all--

Oh. Right. He deleted all the pictures. He didn't want to be in love with her anymore since the thought of it made her so mad.

Ladybug didn't love Chat Noir. She got aggressive and angry when the notion was even suggested. She liked him as a friend and partner but that's as deep as her affections went. Despite what may have happened during amnesiac akuma attacks would suggest. At the end of the day she was in love with someone that wasn't him.

But still, he didn't want to give up. He wanted his lady to see him for who he really is and love him back. The idea of giving her up, of actually moving on, it hurt more than words could say. The heartache and anger of yesterday made it easy to declare his intentions of moving on but it wasn't there anymore. Marinette had sucked all of that vitriol out of him the second she catcalled him over to her balcony.

He really saw a side of Marinette he wasn't that familiar with that day. He had only caught glimpses before but it really came out yesterday. She usually stuttered and stammered and went on weird tangents around Adrien. Around Chat Noir though she seemed more--he didn't know--relaxed? She treated him with the same casualty and ease she showed around Alya and all her other friends. What was different about him?

Oh...right.

Sooner or later Marinette was gonna confess to Adrien. She was going to give him that speech she made last night that made his heart stutter and his breathing stop and he was going to do what? Tell her no? After he already told her that the person she was in love with was lucky? After she said that the person that would fall in love with him would be lucky too?

How could he break her heart like that? He didn't want to hurt her. That was the very last thing he wanted to do.

"Wow," Nino pulled him out of his thoughts, "I can practically see smoke coming out of your ears with how hard you're thinking."

"Sorry," Adrien sighed, rubbing his temples, "I don't know what I'm going to do. I've never thought of Marinette that way."

Okay. That was a lie. He had always felt some sort of pull towards her but he thought it was only because she was a good friend. Yet, being around her, that pull, made him feel unfaithful to Ladybug. He didn't get that feeling around any of his other friends.

"I'm not sure how to help you," Nino said, "I like Marinette and I think you two would make a good couple but if you don't feel the same way then there's not much else to do about it. Just, let her down gently if she confesses to you. She has been crushing on you hard for a long time and I imagine that this rejection is gonna hurt something bad."

"Thanks anyway, Nino," Adrien moved past him and left the closet. For right now his worries about Marinette would have to wait. He had to get this tournament over with first.

---

"Girl, I don’t think those articles were too far off the mark." Alya said as they took their seats for the tournament. "From what I heard, Chat Noir may actually like you."

"He didn't mean it literally," Marinette reminded her, "he was talking hypothetically."

"Uh huh, sure," Alya pulled up her phone, "Watch his face in this video and tell me he didn't end up catching feels for you."

Marinette watched the video, focusing solely on Chat Noir’s face. He was watching her with intensity yet his expression was soft. Like he was taking in a moving ballet performance. Then…

"I'm lucky to have fallen in love with you."

He said it so softly, as if he was speaking some deep secret from the innermost pit of his heart.

She turned the phone away. "Please, Alya, Don't show me this. I've already made up my mind. I'm going to tell Adrien how I feel and then later Chat Noir and I are going to make a new video to post on the Ladyblog to put an end to all these rumors."

Alya looked as if she wanted to protest but didn't push the subject anymore. The tournament started and ended and Adrien won. Everyone cheered and her crush was lifted onto shoulders to celebrate his victory. It was close to time now.

Marinette’s palms began to sweat.

A hand clamped around her arm and pulled her into the locker rooms. "Kagami? What are you--"

"Did you do what I said yesterday?" Kagami asked, a book was clutched tightly in her hands.

"Partly. I didn’t really follow through completely but--"

"Perfect. I was worried, because it's a risky technique. By training with a boy you can fall in love with him and decide to leave with him for a deserted island and get devoured by zombie carnivorous plants!"

"Say what?" Marinette stared at her confused beyond all reason. Of all the directions this conversation could go she wasn't expecting this.

"I haven't finished the third volume, but it's very likely going to get worse." Kagami showed her the cover of the book she was holding.

For the love of--

"Did you give me advice you got from a manga?'

"Yes," Kagami said as if it was obvious and not crazy, "the Catastrophe Robinsons. What's the problem?"

"Okay, you need to hang out with my friends some more. I can't imagine that we have a much better grip on reality but together we can scrounge up some brain cells." Marinette laughed.

"So you didn't fall in love with Chat Noir? He's the one you practiced with if the articles I saw about you two are correct. Right."

"Right, but don't worry. We didn’t fall in love." Marinette assured her.

"I'm lucky to have fallen in love with you."

"No," Marinette held her arms close to her chest, "we definitely didn't fall in love."

"Good," Kagami sighed in relief. At that moment the doors to the locker room opened and the fencers filed in to get changed.

The girls made a swift exit, Marinette accidentally caught Adrien’s eye while leaving and nearly walked straight into the door. She stayed back waiting for everyone to change and leave. She would have a small opening between when Adrien was done changing and when he had to go home. If he could spare a few minutes then she could get her confession out.

---

Adrien took his time changing out of his fencing gear. While the thrill of winning had been potent at the time it was starting to slip away and being replaced with his worries about Marinette.

The moment he saw her exiting the locker room with Kagami he had collided into the back of one of the other fencers. Thoughts and feelings were warring in his head about what he felt and what he wanted and what any and all of this meant. Adrien wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. He didn't know how to feel about loving Ladybug anymore and he needed more time to sort through what was going on with his latent feelings for Marinette.

He left the locker room and stopped dead when he saw a lone figure standing at the front school steps. Why was she still here? She lived right next door, shouldn’t she have gone home?

Don't panic Adrien. Marinette doesn't know that you know about her feelings. Just say hi in passing, maybe a bit of small talk, then proceed quickly and calmly to the car.

He walked closer and scanned the road for his car. Where was the car? Where was the Gorilla?

"Hey Adrien," Marinette said, she had her hands clasped behind her back. A small smile on her face. "Congratulations on the win."

"Thanks," he gripped the trophy tighter, "it was pretty hit or miss there at the beginning though." That was because he kept getting distracted when he heard Marinette cheering for him. In the end he had to find a way to block it all out so he could scrape by with his win.

“Yeah…” Marinette kept her gaze locked on the ground.

“So uh,” Adrien cleared his throat, “What are you still doing here? Thought you would have headed out with everyone else.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Was it happening? Had she stayed back to confess to him? He wasn’t ready for this. He was still trying to figure things out. Should he make a run for it? No. That would be worse.

“About what?” Adrien broached carefully, hoping that she wanted to say something else to him. If this was her confession then he was surprised that she was doing it so quickly. He thought she would have wanted to clear up the confusion about her and Chat Noir before trying to tell him her feelings.

Wait. That was it.

“Is it about the articles?” Adrien asked as naturally as he could, “I saw them this morning. I’m sorry people are still calling you my girlfriend or my ex-girlfriend. Especially since you have that thing going on with Chat Noir.”

“What? Oh right,” Marinette’s composure seemed to slip, “It’s not ideal. And for your information what Chat Noir and I did yesterday wasn’t a date in the slightest. I called him over for help and then we decided to take a break and see a movie and the media took everything out of context. He actually stopped by my house earlier today to apologize about it and look into a way of clearing it up.”

“Well that’s great,” Adrien saw his car pull up out of the corner of his eye. Alrighty Adrien, you’ve made it this far. Just casually say goodbye and high tail it to the car. “Looks like my ride is here. I’ll see you later, Marinette.”

Adrien hustled down the stares as fast as he could without it looking like he was running. He hated ditching her like this but he needed more time to think. He heard the stammered goodbye of Marinette, her tone sadder than it had been when she greeted him.

Sorry, Marinette, Adrien thought mournfully, I can’t face you just yet. I’ll hear your confession another time when I know how to respond to it.

He slid into his car and let the Gorilla take him home. His mind was in a tornado of confusing thoughts. He was barely aware of the congratulations his father gave him when he walked in. He slumped up to his room and put the new trophy on his shelf before sitting down at his computer.

“Real smooth get away there,” Plagg zipped out from Adrien’s bag.

“Not now, Plagg,” Adrien groaned. When he closed his eyes all he saw was Marinette’s face staring up at him. She loved him. She really loved him. She loved him and he didn’t even know how to respond.

"I'm lucky to have fallen in love with you."

Why did he have to say that outloud? It wouldn’t leave him be now.

He pulled out a piece of paper and jotted down his thoughts hoping to make better sense of them.

Item 1: Ladybug doesn’t love me

Item 2: I’m unsure if I still want to be in love with Ladybug

Item 3: Marinette is in love me

Item 4: I don’t know if I like Marinette the same way

Item 5: I feel something for her but don’t know what it is exactly

Item 6: Does Marinette have feelings for Chat Noir? If she does then why did she try to confess to me? We had a moment in her bedroom where it felt like she maybe did like Chat Noir. Or maybe she didn’t. Was I reading too much into it? Did I freak her out by saying that I was lucky to have fallen in love with her? I covered it pretty well saying I meant it hypothetically and she said that she would have been lucky to fall in love with me too. Did she really mean that or was she just being nice? She said that under difference circumstances she thought she could be in love with me. What about me? Would I love her under different circumstances?

Adrien stared at the last paragraph he wrote in a haphazard mess of words. That last line seemed to strike him directly.

If under difference circumstances, would he have fallen in love with Marinette? He thought back to the day he came to school. Marinette had been angry at him and rightfully so since she thought he had stuck gum on her seat. He imagined it as if he had never met Ladybug. As if Hawkmoth wasn’t around and he had never become Chat Noir and fallen in love with his partner after her amazing courageous feat.

That moment when he apologized to Marinette on the steps. It was raining. He offered her his umbrella.

She is pretty cute. There’s a reason so many of the boys in their class had a crush on her at one time or another. She was kind. Sweet. Brave. Creative. Passionate. Loyal. She was fun to be around and he felt at ease around her. Adrien smiled to himself and sighed into the air.

Yes. He concluded. Under different circumstances he can only assume he would have fallen for Marinette Dupain-Cheng very quickly.

This wasn’t a hypothetical situation he was in now though. He was working through the heartache over Ladybug and this new information with Marinette. Even if he does have latent feelings for Marinette, which is useless in denying that he doesn’t at this point, he isn’t sure if he’s in the proper mindset for a relationship.

If she confesses he’ll tell her not yet. Not a definite no, just a not right now. Hopefully that will be enough.

He glanced over at the clock. He still had one last thing to do tonight.

---

“Ouch, you didn’t even get a chance to tell him?” Alya said over the phone.

After Adrien had abruptly left after the fencing tournament Marinette had called Alya to tell her she didn’t get her confession out.

“Yup,” Marinette was not nearly as bent over not confessing her feelings to Adrien as she thought she would be. “If I’m being honest I’m kind of relieved. I love Adrien but things are a little...complicated right now.”

“Does this have to do with Chat Noir?” Alya asked. Marinette could practically hear the cocky grin plastered on her face. Marinette was silent for a second longer than was necessary which Alya took for confirmation. “I knew what happened earlier wasn’t just a spoof.”

“I don’t know what it was, okay?” Marinette flopped down on her bed, her face buried in the pillows. “I’ve never thought of Chat Noir that way.”

“Girl, I can barely hear you.” Alya said.

Marinette picked her head up, “I said that I’ve never really thought of Chat Noir that way. There have been a couple times his flirting has flustered me, I’ll admit that, but I’ve never seriously entertained the idea of liking him romantically. But yesterday...I don’t know...something happened.

“It was like, without him flirting with me as Ladybug I saw him. He wasn’t my partner in crime fighting or the guy that can’t stop flirting with me at inappropriate times. When we were together yesterday it was just him as a person and--I don’t know--I guess I kind of really like who he is as he is. None of the wooing or flirting or grandiose gestures. I was out with Chat Noir, the hero of Paris, a guy with a good sense of humor and a kind and caring heart.”

“So you’re admitting you caught feelings for him.”

“I think so.”

“And is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you still in love with Adrien.”

“Of course but…”

“But he’s consistently edged you into the friend-zone to the point you can have your mail delivered there.”

“Kinda harsh,” Marinette took a deep breath, “But not inaccurate.”

“So what now? You were relieved at not telling Adrien you love him and you admitted to having feelings for Chat Noir. Where do we go from here?”

“I have no idea. I’ve rejected him enough as Ladybug I expect he’ll react harshly if I suddenly do a one eighty and tell him that I do like him and want to go on a date.”

“I think the best course of action is to not force yourself into any kind of relationship with either of them at this point.” Alya said, “You’re still in love with Adrien and these feelings for Chat Noir are new and confusing. You don’t need to choose one or the other right now or ever. Let yourself think things through more until you’re sure you know what you want to do.”

Marinette liked Alya’s idea. Trying to slot herself into a definite relationship with either boy would be a lot to handle right now. Especially since she doesn’t know how either of them would respond to a confession.

There was a tap on the trapdoor above her head and Marinette dropped her phone. Was it--who was she kidding? Of course it was Chat Noir. Who else would be knocking on her balcony door?

“I gotta go,” Marinette scrambled for her phone and hung up before opening the door. There was Chat Noir crouched down so he was less obvious to passersby. “Evening, kitty cat.”

“Hi, sorry to drop in like this again.” he smiled apologetically, “Is it okay if I come in?”

“Please do.” Marinette moved out of the way. “What brings you by?”

“We never got that video made for the Ladyblog to clear up the rumors about us.” Chat Noir said as he let himself into Marinette’s room. He seemed oddly comfortable here. It was a small but nice thought.

“Right,” Marinette picked up her phone. “Did you want to make that now? I can send it Alya and she’ll have it posted by the end of the night.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Chat Noir sat down on the settee. Marinette balanced her phone on the desk across from the settee and hit record. “Alya will edit this, right?”

“She will, don’t worry,” Marinette sat down next to him. “Do you want to start this time?”

“Sure,” Chat Noir turned to face the screen. Marinette tried to pay attention to what he was saying but all she could focus on was the press of his knee against hers. That strange warmth she felt yesterday as well as earlier today was back. Her insides turned to jell-o and her brain fogged up.

What a lovely profile he had.

“The one that will fall in love with you will be lucky too.”

She hadn’t expected the person that would have fallen in love with him may have been her. She may as well have said--

"I'm lucky to have fallen in love with you." Marinette breathed out in a whisper.

Chat Noir stopped dead to turn and look at her. “What--what did you say?” She could see the bright red blush of his cheeks peeking out from underneath his mask.

“I was--I--” She hadn’t meant to say it outloud! “Sorry, I was thinking about what you said earlier. That’s it. I wasn’t say that I--”

She clammed up, her heart beating hard in her chest.

Doki doki

Darn it Kagami! She showed her that manga and now it was all she could think of!

“Marinette, do you--”

“I don’t want to get devoured by zombie carnivorous plants!” Marinette blurted out.

 “What?” Chat Noir’s face screwed up in confusion, “Have you been reading the Catastrophe Robinsons?”

“A friend of mine was reading it. How do you know it?”

“I may or may not have all twenty one volumes at home. It’s a weird manga but it’s a lot of fun.”

“Twenty one volumes? Really?”

“It’s a good story! Likeable characters, an original premise, good drama, fun comedy, and a well paced romance. Although that love triangle in the Haunted Noodle Shop Arc was kind of infuriating it gave the love interests that final push they needed to admit they were in love.”

Marinette started laughing. She doubled over, tears streaming down her face as she full on cackled.

“Uh Marinette?” Chat Noir placed a hand on her back, “Are you okay?”

“What is this manga?!” She said between gasps of laughter, “A haunted noodle shop? Zombie carnivorous plants? What’s next? A time traveling soda machine?”

“How did you know?” Chat Noir smirked. Marinette shoved his shoulder. “In all seriousness there is a time traveling photo booth at one point.”

“Oh my goodness,” Marinette shook her head. “I am going to have to read this at some point. I have to know. I just do. I need to see how coconuts this series gets.”

“I can bring you the first couple volumes if you want,” Chat offered, “I am looking forward to hearing your thoughts.”

For a while Marinette completely forgot why Chat Noir was originally there and about the phone that still sat recording them. It wasn’t until it got to be much later that they both realized they had completely forgotten the task at hand. Marinette stopped the recording and said goodbye to Chat Noir. He promised to come back tomorrow with the manga volumes and to record the video for real this time.

Marinette watched him leap away and placed a hand over her heart.

Doki doki

---

(Part 1) (Next)

[remsmoonlight]

— title : a sweet truth

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : john wich x reader

— summary : you get an overwhelming need to share with John how you feel, unable to keep it to yourself anymore, leaving only the good to follow.

— warnings : none, issa soft one

note: my first one shot back and it’s john of course! anyways i need to binge the movies again because this man’s voice was difficult to master this time around, now i will be getting to requests now i have indulged myself oops

                    ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open !   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The dull crackle that runs mindlessly beneath the audio of the radio is the only sound that can be heard illuminating the space of the bedroom where you and John lay contently together. He’d offered to repair the object, or even buy another but you refused stubbornly — remarking that it gives it a certain endearing charm. You had joked that it reminds you of him. In the sense that while it has a flaw, it was able to bring joy and amusement to a person’s life. It’s humbling to know that even the John Wick was human, that he had his flaws despite being difficult to witness them in the flesh.

It took a lot for John to bare the darkest and most damaged parts of his conscience. He couldn’t go another day where his mind leapt endlessly to conclusions, his mind conjuring haunting images of your departing body that would eventually come to pass — to him, it was inevitable. He fully convinced himself he was hallucinating when you had not retreated in fear, with the look of disgust cosying up to your reflection, but the opposite. He is still a man greatly feared by a whole world beneath yours, yet you still gaze upon him with nothing but warmth.

You will your mind to focus on the words from the small object, yet it’s the heat that is emitting from his body in waves that prevent you from fully taking in what is being said, its presence doing more to provide white noise than entertainment. The minor glint in your gaze turns upwards to drag your sight across the body that half lays on top of you.

Like vines, to be found in a twist of limbs that would be almost difficult to distinguish what belongs to who is a common occurrence, the sense of shielded from the scorching realities that the world bares boldly is an addicting concoction that you can only find with him. Your heart swells tenfold at the mere thought of him and being here in such a simple way that holds so much affection just for two people.

“ What ? “

The suddenness of his voice lifts you from your thoughts that run their own race, a shy lift of your lips can be seen twirling gracefully in response.

“ Nothing, I’m just thinking. “

“ Thinking? “ he asks you, a light hint of laughter gently coating the question with a feather-like touch. “ Are you trying to scare me? “

Eyes widen in response to what he says, a heavy burst of air plummeting to the soft mattress below the two of you. “ Don’t be so rude! “ A short chuckle trails behind your reply, secretly loving the cheeky side of his personality coming out to peek out.

You’ve realised that he has a warmth whenever you’re together, but even still he maintains an air of such seriousness you’re surprised he has not collapsed under the pressure of holding such a wall up with his bare hands, these moments are the kind that you paint mentally — a still of this moment in a thousand shades of gold. Upon your first meeting of his, you’d never associate that with him, with how intimidating and stone faced he was, it would be a honeyed lie if someone would have described him in such a way but here he is. Not a honeyed lie but a sweet tasting truth that you never want to be without again.

“ I’m sorry. “ he apologises as the amusement in his tones still very much present that would aim to refer to him as a hypocrite, but it’s not spoken with vitriol, his words directed towards you rarely contain any harshness. “ Tell me, I’m curious. “

It’s a minor debate that dances with only itself, zig zagging with a biro pen that creates a mess of lines converging at multiple points to create a tangle plot point that should not be as complicated as it’s being made out. Neither of you have muttered the L word, not even under your breath in passing and the one dominating emotion you can feel overwhelming your body entirely is incredibly close to it.. but is it too soon? Even as a description? It’s a fear you can feel tickling your neck from behind, whispering stained words of discouragement, but if you have learnt anything, it’s that hiding your feelings will be worse off in the long run. Never can a human being strive for the euphoria of authentic happiness clutched in their fist when they lock away their thoughts and their desires in a box to gather age and dust — leaving behind a hollow shell of what could have been had it the opportunity to bud and grow.

“ Well.. “ you begin, your sight lowering to meet the sight of his neck, unable to look him in the eyes fully and you approach the topic. “ I was thinking about you. “

“ Yeah? “

“ I’m just.. happy. More than I thought I could be and it’s you I have to thank. “ Your shoulders shrug as best they can from your position laying down on the bed.

“ I think I should be the one saying that. “ he replies softly, his words ringing truer than they could ever be realised to be as he leans down to leave behind a ghost of a peck behind your ear. It’s an action that is short and sweet.

Never did John imagine himself being rewarded for being the architect in more tragedies and more horrors than he could ever recall. Though, he soon realised your presence was rather the opposite, a ticket to a greener field void of bloodied bargains and death, and should he keep you in his life that would be an opportunity he would not let pass him by in a sea of missed chances left to drown due to his lack of motivation. He gazes upon you fondly in affection, a hand reaching up to draw mindless circles in the back of your hair, memories of his last bargain to leave his previous life playing before him as if an old gritty movie.

“ Stop it, John. I haven’t done a thing! “ your nose wrinkles as you refute what he says with a bashful glint that explodes in your gaze. After all the time you’d spent together and you still refuse to see yourself in the way John has painted you in —

“ You’ve done more for me than you realise. “

It feels like yesterday you shared your first kiss, fondly remembering how you’d mentally remarked that it’s so unfair that what is between you should be so perfect, a cruel joke were it not to work out. Though your heart is full of gratitude when you still tell yourself that not a worry should be had, your need for a physical reminder as you move your hand to his clothed back — bringing him closer as if to burn a permanent reminder into your fingertips.

“ I guess that’s why we compliment each other so well, huh? “

A wispy sigh plummets, your thoughts and emotions mixing more and more into a blend of intensity as you fully realise just how much you have fallen and adore the man who shares your bed. It has been such a long time you have had these emotions to this degree rouse from, what has felt like, an endless slumber. Yes, there had been a few who had caught your eye, but compared to the substance that has been created and nurtured from you both, they had nothing more than a water drop in a boundless and enduring sea. It’s a hope of yours that you don’t look foolish before him, getting so emotional over something like this, you scold yourself mentally — trying to pull yourself together before you completely crumble.

“ What’s wrong? “

“ It’s nothing, really. “ you shake your head, accompanying the almost denial. You want to let everything in your heart free, but the question is how to without scaring him off. There’s not much that can scare him, but you’d rather not throw a spanner in the flawless equation.

“ You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if you do. “ John lends a soothing weight in your hand as he interlocks your fingers together, leaving the choice completely up to you, refusing to force you to share something that is so personal to you. “ it’s your call. “

“ It’s nothing crazy.. “

The side of John’s brain that has been hardwired to jump to every scenario imaginable — good and bad, is running rampant. Itching to be prepared so nothing is able to disrupt the perfect day dream of a life that had only been made available through television shows and movies, now that he has it, every day he promises to never let it be ruined. Nothing good can ever occur from ripping away the first drop of water that touches a person starved of it for days, only a troublesome path of anger can walk that path on its twisted and turned limbs.

“ I think it’s time that I tell you how I feel, “ you state, your lips almost devouring your lips by how hard they bite them, a lost thought of how you have not drawn a drop of blood seeping into irrelevancy. “ how I really feel. “

“ Right? “

For the first time, John is completely unable to get a read of you. The apprehension that is emitting off you in strong waves is not something that comforts him fully, though the fact that you speak not from anger and have opted to stay in your current position as opposed to fleeing is the only source of relief he can continue to draw energy from. Curiosity is the only thing that dominates his mind, wanting desperately to hear the next part of your statement.

In his silence, your brows furrow purely from your own thoughts. Mainly in the wonder of how you can approach this while sounding as if you have capacity and are not obsessed with him as some are with their idols. You know that would be something that would probably scare him off. Your fingertips lay a random beat on the top of his hand, you nestle closer to him as to make yourself comfortable — this does feel like the right time. Should it not? You remind yourself that it is part of a plan that the universe has for you, that it is part of a bigger picture you are not allowed to know until the final moment.

“ I just, “ you pause, blinking as you gather your thoughts and your words further. “ It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything remotely close to this. “

Your words are like a cozy kiss goodnight before two lovers depart until the next time they see each other, a warmth that slowly grows in his heart overspills at the sentiment you individually wrap with each word you speak. He can’t help but tip his head ever so slightly, to take in every detail on your features — in his mind, nothing is more so perfect than this moment.

“ What I’m trying to say is, and you don’t have to say anything — “ the rambling leaves your lips so effortlessly, as if to savour the last few moments of normally before the inevitable confession. “ I can’t help but realise how much I am in love with you. “

His eyes widen instantaneously as his features follow suit, his lips part in surprise. With how your speech had begun, it should not have come as a surprise, yet to hear it from your lips is as pleasant as the final summer’s day, surrounded by warmth and an impenetrable energy that shields you from any harm that would befall you. He’d lived the life of a haunting ghost story that it soon became a belief that he was a monster, to hear you in this moment recite something so real is something that is difficult for him to wrap his head around. Maybe he isn’t a monster that has made its peace with the darkness, that there is more for him as a person.

The emptiness is soon replaced by a soft weight on your lips, he has leans down to join you — unable to fight the desire to savour the taste of him as you often do when you kiss. It’s a fight you have not yet one, and it’s a fight you imagine you would prefer losing. Time is no longer a concept, you’re too wrapped up in the concept turned reality that is John Wick, only are you able to concentrate on the burning that his free hand leaves as they slide up and down your waist. If this is a dream, neither of you want to awaken.

“ Who says I’m not feeling the same as you? “

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt. 7)

(Hybrid au) (YoonMinJoon x Reader) (Mafia au) 

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers, hidden in the shadows. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks, but he only has until the end of the summer. 

Parings: Snake hybrid! Yoongi x Dog hybrid! Jimin x Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Pregnant! Reader, Platonic Vmin, allusions to 2seok, 

Genre: Hybrid au, Polyamory au, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Pregnancy, Mafia au

Tags:  Domestic abuse, references to sexual abuse- and choosing to have sex even though you’ve been through sa, physical abuse, polyamory negotiations, Post-traumatic stress disorder, mute characters, brief gore at the end, pregnant m/c, frottage, marking kink, fingering, oral f. receiving, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied death but dont worry I do not write MCD!!!!

A/n: just for posterity's sake! i was drunk when i posted this! enjoy! full gangbang comes in (y/n) next chapter! (oh god im going to hell).

W/c: 10.5k

Song Rec: Like Real People do ~ Hozier

~ Series Masterlist ~

2 Years Earlier

-  If Jeon Jungkook where so esoterically inclined, he would write a book on how he had become the most dangerous man in the underworld. It would be a short book though; because Jungkook had only 2 rules for himself. The first was to always get up after he’d been hit during a fight (even if it took him a second) and the second was to know when to mind his own business. 

- Jungkook was always able to get up after being hit, Even when he’d been a street kid, with not a penny to his name and a whole lot of anger in his mouth. ready to spit vitriol at anyone who would pause and listen. He’d always been able to get up. The pain giving him a kind of sick clarity that he eventually sought out instead of tried to escape. Jungkook could never think as clearly as he did during a fight; or when he was in pain. And that was probably because of his father. 

- But whatever. That man was 6 feet under, (his mother on the other hand- no- that bitch certainly had more than one dept to pay still). He didn’t have a lot of time or energy to put into dealing with that particular trauma (why he honestly felt like sometimes- he liked being hit). Most of his energy went into staying alive. Even now- when living and surviving teetered on the same edge. Jungkook had more pressing matters to tend to than dealing with his own fragile mind. 

- The way he would get up and hop around for a second to soak in the clarity after being hit during a scuffle was one of the reasons why he’d been given his street name: The Playboy Bunny; further set in stone with his tattoo of the same moniker under his left eye. A cheekbone he’d tap and say “you want to hit me? why don’t you try your luck and see how well it turns out for you.” 

- He was doing reconnaissance, Sneaking around the back alley with his hood up and his glasses on- disguising his black eye that was sure to get more than a few looks from passers-by. The ears of the playboy bunny tattoo peeking out over the top of his mask. 

- He keeps his eyes on the crowd waiting for some sort of handoff- to see anything at all. But he’d lost his target through the crowd and has no drive to find them in the dizzying rush of people and umbrellas. Not yet. Not when the hum of addiction lurks in his veins. 

- Jungkook pauses lighting a cigarette, when a commotion to the side hidden around a corner- blurs his concentration. The world snapping back into focus when he sinks his fingernails into his palm. Terse voices. A couple fighting in the alleyway perpendicular to his. 

- Minding his own business was a particular skill of his- it took one kind of person to know when to step in, and another to know which problems weren't worth the headache. And unless it involved the acquisition money or some step therein, it wasn’t a problem worth getting into in Jungkook’s opinion.

- But Jungkook can’t stop his ears from hearing snippets of conversation, a low and angry male voice. The sound of a smack. “You just had to embarrass me like that, didn’t you? First, you come out dressed like a slob and then you act like a fucking whore- I swear if I see you give eyes to another man this week I'll beat you five ways to Sunday”

- The sound of a soft female voice, so quiet- almost indistinguishable from the pouring rain, “I wasn’t-” another smack.

- Jungkook has been hit so many times he knows the sound of it, the ragged gasp the woman lets out, also quite- like even the pain takes up too much space. 

- His body starts to move before his mind thinks it through as he gives up position in favor of investigating the noise. There he sees it, ivy growing up the wall next to the back exit of some restaurant. A woman, small crouching in front of a grotesque man. A baggy coat buttoned tight around her small form. hair swept back in a tight bun. Red lipstick smudged. Though you check your hands and think its blood for a moment before you remember you’re wearing it. 

- Jungkook waits for a moment before he watches you stand on shaky legs. you get up. 

- The rest of the underworld might be old grudges and blood feuds but Jungkook was only here to be a businessman. He didn’t have time for ego and arrogance, let alone time for altruism... 

- Usually. 

- He looks on for a moment, too sluggish without nicotine, but Jungkook’s lingering stare almost seems to spur the man on. He’s wearing a jacket with a military patch, a badge; some sort of congratulation for service done no doubt. and Jungkook feels his distaste for the man deepen. 

- “What you looking at punk?” he slurs. Stalking forward as if to shove Jungkook. He almost wants to tut- that would be an expensive action. Jungkook wonders if the man is maybe high or drunk or both. He’s has had his fair share of experience with junkies and he knows one when he sees one. 

- “Nothing, just a pig beating his girlfriend.” The man settles for shoving Jungkook back. And Jungkook lets him. You don’t look up, don’t do anything but lean to the side, like the brick wall is the only thing keeping you up. Jungkook sees the back of your hand, black and blue, the other bruises on your neck. You only make eye contact with him once. Just slightly. Barely in passing.  

- You look like Jungkook used to look. He remembers in the savage bite of an open-handed slap- the fear he sees in your eyes. He looks and looks. And it aches so viscerally as Jungkook watches you go, your hurt echoes through him. You look beaten down and broken like Jungkook used too; before he’d decided he was done taking punches from people who were supposed to love him- Were supposed to care. 

- (Before he realized life wasn't supposed to hurt) 

- He’s never been one to feel things for other people, the empathy sparing him through most of the suffering he’s seen. It’s not that he’s unfeeling; it’s just that Jungkook’s life has forced him to feel concerned only for himself and no one else. His own survival is his first priority; Not others. 

- He watches you walk away, And you don’t look back at him. Rushing to keep up with your husband's steps. He waits until you disappear into the crowd before he lifts his phone to his ear and makes a call. “Hey, I need you to flag all of the cars that leave the parking lot, they’re just a couple, should be coming to you soon.”

- Jeon Jungkook had become the most powerful man in the underworld because of two reasons; by being able to take punches, and by knowing when to mind his own business. 

- But For this, Jungkook thinks he can make an exception.

- (You won't remember meeting Jeon Jungkook, but Jungkook will always remember you).

~.~

Now

-It comes as no surprise that your little speech fades after a few days and the rest of the hybrids quick to return to treating Yoongi with a mix of disdain and fear. Though mostly- this seems to be caused by Minhyung's group and the other canine hybrids. Namjoon hears them whispering about ‘favoritism’ before they catch on that he’s listening in. And in the days following your impromptu departure from the farm, you find people quiet even further whenever Yoongi's brought up. Staring when Yoongi comes close, afraid to interact with him.

- Even Jimin is greeted mostly with silence from all but a few. The bunny hybrids don’t act so skittish anymore, and the cat hybrids could care less used to sticking to their own group. Taehyung seems to have encouraged the other bear hybrids to make an actual effort and they at least say hello now. It’s better than the derisive comments of the dog hybrids, or the snooty noses stuck high in the air of the dear hybrids and other exotic breeds. 

- They know Jimin is close to Yoongi and Namjoon, and now he feels even more like an outsider that before (somehow it doesn't matter as much as before). The only ones who don’t act overtly different are the new hybrids; Hoseok and the small lion hybrid. but They were never around to learn how to hate Yoongi in the first place.

- it's a little cute- the way that Hoseok will always shout Yoongi's name in greeting (though you're unsure if that's just his personality now that he's started to grow into himself). Hoseok is unbothered by Yoongi's reaction; to shy away from anything that will draw more attention to himself. But Hoseok's smile is so bright and elastic that even he has a hard time ignoring the otter hybrid. You hope there will be a friendship there eventually, that yoongi will open up to more than just your group. 

- The little lion kit is a new addition too, she's not the only young feline hybrid you have at the farm but she is the friendliest. She gets pretty close to the other cats that work in the kitchen almost instantly. Probably on account of her young age (she's barely 7) and the eldest cat hybrid seems to be particularly fond of the little one.

- She's curious and kind to Yoongi too- excitedly running up to him more than once to show him a little rock or some flower she found- and yoongi will marvel and nod, and if Jimin is near- he'll lean close and tell her how pretty it is. 

- She doesn't seem at all deterred by Yoongi's lack of voice. one day she even sees Jimin, her ears perking up excitedly, tail swishing. "Hello Yoonies voice!" it's a little cute- even if it does make yoongi splutter a little. But she's not exactly wrong; Jimin does talk for yoongi more these days. 

- She Always comes bounding up to you and giggling happily to be picked up. Her little legs stretching around your waist, small bottom sat atop your baby bump. Making you get the kind of look that makes Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin sigh and look impossibly fond. They can only imagine what you’re going to be like once your little one is born. Your due date is barely 2 months away.

- In truth- you’re starting to get a little bit big. You say it one morning with Namjoon. After he asks you why you’re looking into the mirror with such a displeased expression. The sound of your terse voices alerts Yoongi and he comes to the door to your bedroom to witness your spat. Making a flippant hand movement at Namjoon to back off. Namjoon could smell your distress on you when you looked in the mirror, his voice tense but breaking. “Baby just tell me, why you think you’re not beautiful like that? let me understand. Cuz to me- you look more irresistible every day.”

- It’s not that you exactly wanted him to agree with you that you were nearing the size of a whale- but this doesn’t help at all either. His unending insistence- doesn’t he see? when he looks in the mirror doesn’t he see what you do? His instance that everything is alright doesn't help when you’re feeling this self-conscious.

- Yoongi helps you, fiddling with Namjoon’s closet for a second before he pulls out an extra-large white shirt of his and helps you into it- tying it loosely over your baby bump so that it flatters your waist a little more. The attention that Yoongi shows you clearly making you flustered. Then he drags you to the mirror, tugging your hair out of its bun, the tension going out of your shoulders.

- Yoongi doesn’t know it, but Namjoon does. Your late husband used to always be so particular about your hair, yanking on it harshly if it was left down. and An easy way to avoid him yanking on it was to leave it up. And sometimes you still pull it up convinced it’s safer even though he’s dead and gone. It’s scary how simple it is- but the second your hair comes down your whole body relaxes.

- All the while Namjoon watches from your bed. And you take in yourself, the baby hairs free-floating against your forehead; Yoongi curls one gently around his finger and then lets it go. You take in the way that the fabric hangs now, making you look a little more proportional, Yoongi gives you a satisfied smile behind your back and you have to sigh and admit it. “Okay- okay- I’ll give you this- I’m not a whale”

- “And even if you where you’d be a pretty whale.” Yoongi has the good sense to hurl a pillow in Namjoon’s direction, but it makes you laugh all the same- the heaviness in your chest abated a little. Your sleeve brushing Yoongi’s as you head downstairs, Namjoon trailing behind.

- The beach trip was a nice distraction from chores but the real work comes crashing down on them the next few days. Your little group feels closer than ever, you rarely part from any of them for long and their intention, their little acts of care never fail to make you feel flustered and taken care of.

- Jimin always holds out a hand for you to take when you’re stepping over uneven ground, Yoongi makes a startled noise whenever you so much as get close to a hose that might trip you, always gesturing for you to pause and take a break whenever you’re working in the garden. Namjoon too, always running back and forth from whatever project he’s working on to check on you and make sure you have water or food.

- At night, Namjoon takes your stretch mark cream from you, rubbing down your baby bump and your hips, the little lines of lighter skin on your waist get little kisses from him.  

- Even if you want just a snack, Namjoon and Yoongi will bring you a full meal- convinced that you need to be eating more than you are. At dinner Yoongi fills up your plate- piling it high with more food then you could fit in your already crowded tummy. And he always eyes you suspiciously when you can’t finish the full plate. Namjoon too will level you with a look- asking if you really are full. 

- Since your pregnancy has progressed, you’ve become a little moodier, and a little hornier whenever way the wind blows. And Namjoon doesn’t help that much at all- and by that you mean, he makes it worse. When he comes out of the field with his shirt off and tucked into his shorts all of his thickness, his muscles that make you ravenous. 

- During lunch one day he drags you away to a forgotten tool shed, though it would be easier just to go up the hill to your bedroom- you feel like teenagers sneaking around like this. 

- Namjoon presses into you as he hits the latch on the door, muffling your giggles with kisses as you hide from the hybrids outside, voices that you can dimly hear, unable to pick out any one particular yet- but you know they're there. 

- You and Namjoon might bicker like an old married couple. But you also act like teenagers gooey and giggly and so so so in love. “Do you think that they can hear you like this? Or smell you, my love?” Namjoon is always quick to tell you how delectable you smell when you’re horny. His more sensitive nose-picking it up the second you feel a slickening between your thighs.

- You’re shaky when you respond. “I don’t know, maybe?” Namjoon always has this passionate intense air about him. He’s slightly possessive- but you’d never fault him for that not when it’s all about protecting and providing for you. Not when he always puts your pleasure first (you feel like you may have turned into a slight pillow princess with him). 

- Namjoon heaves you up onto the edge of a bench and then gets on his knees. Gently lifting your leg over his shoulder. He’s always mindful of how much you can move in your swollen state. He checks to make sure he’s not bending your hips in an uncomfortable way. 

- You put your hands back on the dusty bench to stabilize yourself as you lie back, Namjoon wastes no time in pressing his face close to your cunt and inhaling, His nose prodding at the thin fabric of your underwear. One of his ears caught on the hem of your dress. His fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs- so full and healthy it makes him hard in his pants. 

- He’s slow with the appreciation of your thighs and hips. Hands gripping and moving on to touch and feel like you have all the time in the world. But you hear voices outside the tool shed you’ve commandeered and you could just slip out and go back up to your house- but somehow you like this better. The thought of being discovered stirring an unsure heat in your stomach. 

- You can hear Taehyung's voice, and then- like a shock through your core- you hear Jimin’s. Namjoon can feel your jolt. And you realize- his sensitive ears must have known who it was before your own human ones did. He chuckles- teasing his fingers along the hem of your underwear, almost daring to slip inside.

- You almost whine when you think about what you’re being denied- the harsh pull of his fingers that you’re so addicted too, how thick his fingers and knuckles feel (almost as nice as his cock) when they pull out and push in.

- Yoongi and Namjoon have always had the most lovely hands, it’s strange that when Namjoon touches you- you think about Yoongi’s hands. The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. "you're thinking about them aren't you," The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. Because yeah; Yoongi and Jimin are apart of Namjoon’s pack too, and bonding and group sex are kind of the same thing to hybrids. You’d found that out the hard way when you’d found a group of cat hybrids all tangled together in the grass the other day.

- Namjoon is always so gentle with you because of your condition, but you find your hips jerking with want. His fingers still when he feels the way your wetness has spilled out the sides. His thumb pressed over your clit teasingly. “smell so good when you're like this So wet my love, are you thinking about them finding you like this?” 

- “Y-yes” you confess, and Namjoon growls, nipping at you through the fabric, the feel of his teeth brushing you, over the sensitive skin. The fabric cushioning the feeling, makes you almost gush, and you know you’ll be shakily legged by the time he lets you get down. And that he won’t let you get away from him until he’s taken care of you in this way, sated you in every sense of the word. 

- But he can also tell how shy you are, the heat under your skin at the thought of being discovered. always unsure how much of your dirty talk is a real want and not just something you like in theory. Namjoon knows the idea of sharing you with the others might seem like the most natural and hottest thing; to love you alongside them. but to you- a human, hybrid sex and hybrid bedroom dynamics aren't as given. 

- So he leans close, sliding your underwear down your legs slowly, letting you feel the heat of his palms on your skin. You're getting worked up a little too quickly, your heaving breaths needy. God damn pregnancy hormones you'd say if you could think beyond the plush feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to your clit. “Gotta clean you up for them, if they smelled you like this- then they’d know wouldn’t they?” 

- You prove Namjoons initial assumption wrong. “What if I-” you whisper- gasping quietly as Namjoon drags the fabric to the side and glides a delicate lick over your folds. “What if I want them to know?” the pleasure thrumming through your body as Namjoon licks up your slit. Namjoon stills, ears perked, eyes flashing in the half-light. The snarl against your cunt loud and echoic.

- The voices outside fall silent and Namjoon doesn't stop his ravenous licking no matter if you have to bite your lip to keep your noises in. One of your hands scrambling to pull at his hair and find something to grip onto and anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. Jimin is the first one to puncture the silence, “What was that?” 

- Then comes Seokjin's voice “all of you- move along- whoever it is they probably don’t want the three of you listening in like a bunch of horn dogs” which is basically a confirmation that they were listening in, and that Yoongi was there too. 

- When you finally exit the toolshed with weak legs, sure you’re going to have to at least got change your underwear. You find a bleary-eyed Seokjin a few dozen feet away, obviously upwind of the toolshed. he levels Namjoon with a tired expression. “You both have dirt on your knees” Namjoon has the good sense to look shy at that. You hastily brush off the spots on his, and he on yours.

- If Jimin and Yoongi smell anything on you later- they don’t say anything and the idea that they might make you feel hot all over whenever they lean in too close. You think you see a blush on Yoongi’s face more than once, and maybe see him adjust his pants out of the corner of your eye, but Jimin seems blissfully unaware.

- You have a check-up at the doctor’s office in the coming days. And although only Namjoon is allowed in the room with you (they have a two-person maximum because the ultrasound room is tiny), Yoongi and Jimin also accompany you. Namjoon comes bounding out after, waving the picture and smiling so so wide, both Yoongi and jimin leaning in close to get a better look- they’re so enamored with the little photo. And when you get home- Namjoon shows anyone that asks how the check-up went, eventually hanging it on one of the two fridges in the kitchen.

- Jimin is the only one who seems to notice the jealous looks- because you went out for ice-cream after and come home with them still partially melting (you’d had another craving- french-fries dunked in ice cream of all things). One of the other hybrids having heard Jimin talk to Tae about the beach trip too. They come to you at the end of the day, 2 bunnies, a cat, a fox and one of the bears- a mish moshed group of hybrids; petitioning you to start the beach trips for everyone.

- You can only fit so many people into the back of your truck so you pick a day and start a raffle for spots. Jimin throws his name into the hat just in case but to his surprise, Yoongi doesn’t. No matter how much Jimin bugs him too; He won’t agree to accompany Jimin to the beach again. Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes back tipped back against the grass, his sunhat crumpled. Offering up a few sweet tomatoes to soothe Jimin’s sour nerves. 

- The peace lasts for a couple of days before they’re right back to treating Yoongi like shit and for some reason, it pisses Jimin off more. No matter how many times he’s heard Namjoon asks Yoongi to please tell him when anything happens. The snake hybrid seems unable to fight back.

- Jimin asks one of the hybrids why she won’t look at Yoongi (after the snake has already gone up the hill to retrieve another dish for dinner) and beyond a startled look, she just says “none of us can smell him” she throws a stack of paper towels down onto the table angrily. The deer hybrid across from them stumbling with their silver wear But she doesn’t need to re-iterate herself. Jimin understands- it’s hard to trust someone who can lie to your face- and in the world of hybrids where emotions can be decreed from a simple sniff, Jimin can’t say he doesn’t see where they’re coming from.

- Doesn’t excuse their behavior, however. After all- Jimin can smell Yoongi’s emotions through his scent and he didn't realize that was something strange until now. To Jimin, Yoongi’s scent is soft and sweet- something gummy and soft like a marshmallow. But that’s probably because he spends so much time with the hybrid. The others only spend so much time around him and are unused to his scent. And the fact that he never talks and never tries to socialize doesn’t help.

- Jimin can’t imagine not wanting to smell more of it- not leaning in whenever the other hybrid passes. Jimin wants to bury his face in Yoongi’s neck and rub his cheek all over it. The same way that Namjoon does to him in the morning if he shows up before he’s changed from his pajamas. And he knows he smells soft like sleep- an alluring smell to the older alpha when he comes down the stairs, ears straight up eyes wide as he takes in all of Jimin's vulnerability.

- and it might have to do with what Taehyung had said- that alphas eat up that sort of thing. 

- Namjoon smells good too, his scent all soft mornings and sleepy walks, the older hybrid large and so pliant in his sleepiness, eyes swollen and face puffy as he hides in Jimin’s shoulder. Sending his pine scent all over so that it sticks to jimin no matter where he is. So that jimin will smell like Namjoon all day. 

- One of the cat hybrids at the sink rolls her eyes. But when you come down the stairs smelling much the same. You touch his arm so softly in passing, like you can’t believe you’re allowed. And Jimin’s senses are a dizzying blur of cream, peaches, pine, and marshmallow. 

- when he goes back to the barns, hazy at being scented by Namjoon so thoroughly. Taehyung levels him with a funny look and a chuckle. "you're more devious than anyone gives you credit for" thought Taehyung means it good-naturedly- it's good to have a friend to ask how to go about flirting with. the other hybrids gathered on the couch in front of the tv; some cartoon playing- pretend like they're not listening in. 

- "How do you know so much when you don't have a pack of your own Tae?" he asks over breakfast, the two of them clutching breakfast burritos on their way to check Tae's bees. Tae doesn't meet Jimin's eyes "you're just lucky- most hybrids dont find a pack so easily Jimin" his words aren’t jealous- only a little patronizing. And Jimin accepts it because he knows he has a lot to learn.

- Taehyung is right- out of all of the hybrids at the farm, there are only a few who have paired up or even made stronger groups or multi-person packs. the bunnies and the cats don't form set generally- though there are a few pairs and more than a few throuples.

- Jimin as caught Yeonjun making out with a tabby more than once- has learned to avoid certain sections of the woods all together because everyone knows that's where the bunny hybrids like to go in the afternoons. The canine hybrids are the only ones who have packs, though there are more than half a dozen loners like jimin and namjoon.

- It's hard for Jimin to cohabitate with them even though there are other larger predators and more than a few prey hybrids living in Jimin's barn. he hadn’t really realized until taehyung pointed it out that each different pack occupied one corner of the punk room. More than once- the room in the barns has felt hostile if only for the packs that have claimed either corner of the bunkroom. it's usual to wake up and find more than one of the pups cuddling with another in one single bed. 

- Having reciprocated love in his pack shouldn't feel like an impossibility to Jimin. But still, when Yoongi steps close- an inch too far away, his fingertips barely brushing- Jimin just- yearns. It’s a soft sort of yearning, the kind that has jimin jumping up whenever Yoongi needs something. Has him settling a think knit blanket over Yoongi’s nobly knees during movie nights, and sticking his own feet underneath the edge of the blanket. Feet Pressed to the clothed line of his calf. Maybe nothing will ever come of it, But Jimin yearns with everything he’s got regardless.

- In the late hours of the night, when Jimin lies awake thinking about the three of you. An instinct welling inside of him that says he should walk up the hill and fall asleep on your couch just to be closer to you three (the pack instinct- Taehyung calls it, looking a little bit sad himself when jimin asks him, the other hybrid moving away before jimin can ask exactly what that means) Jimin wonders if his feelings will ever be reciprocated.

- But love is a strange thing, it’s not just about saying it with kisses or touches- though Jimin wants them too. There is love in the small things, in building something together so that’s what Jimin tries to do. Every day- he takes to gardening with a new vigor. Shouting in joy when you harvest some of the tomatoes- filling up a whole gallon bucket with the amount that have ripened over the last week. Your peppers and cucumbers are beginning to produce more too.

- Jimin and Yoongi run to Namjoon just to give him a handful. The alpha gives each of them a sweet nuzzle in thanks, even if Yoongi chirps and moves back after a moment. A flush high on his cheek. Namjoon looking up at Yoongi from where he’s stopped- cheek on the elder's shoulder. The snake relaxing after a moment. 

- You spend the rest of the day showing Jimin and Yoongi how to prepare the tomatoes to make a sauce, roasting them on low heat. Cutting garlic so so carefully, and whenever Jimin looks across the prep table- Yoongi’s gaze darts away. halfway through- yoongi stoops down, sticking his socked feet into jimin’s lap, and it feels so nice, to have their weight there. 

- You go over to Yoongi at one point, and he tips his head back to look up at you. The back of his head is at the right height to lye up against your baby bump. And Jimin watches, as you slowly, so slowly, brush the hair out of his eyes and away from his forehead. Yoongi’s eyes flutter closed and he tips his face into your hand. Letting out a low happy grumble when you take his action as positive reinforcement, and drag your nails over his scalp. In Jimin’s lap, Yoongi’s toes curl. 

- It feels strange- and Jimin can’t quite put his finger on it- but it almost feels like Yoongi is letting you all touch him more than ever. Suddenly okay with touches- as long as it’s in a more private setting. Jimin can’t say he’s unhappy about it. Maybe one-day yoongi will even let Jimin scent mark him. 

- Jimin smiles at Yoongi’s happy little snake grumbles. And keeps chopping his garlic. Is happy to receive the same kind of scratch from you a few minutes later. Though he might abandon his chopping in favor of rubbing his face all over your stomach when the instinct strikes him. Jimin unintentionally lets out a growl when you start to move away. Slapping a hand over his mouth and apologizing, no matter how you and Yoongi laugh.

- Still, despite the happiness, you have in your kitchen, in your house, whenever you’re around each other. The rest of the world is not so kind.

- An adoption day comes at arguably the worst and best time. There is still a fair amount of friction between your group and the rest of the hybrids. And a few outsiders at the farm only make it worse. Though Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon aren’t the only hybrids who wear red stickers to indicate that they are not available for adoption.

- Hoseok surprisingly- grabs a yellow sticker. And the three of your hybrids watch- as Seokjin hovers around him- a red sticker on his own lapel- wary of all and anyone who interacts with the otter hybrid. His glares putting off all but the most attentive patrons. That's where it starts.

- Jimin is unfortunately caught in the middle when seokjin confronts hoseok. off to help the three of them bring down 3 trays of cut watermelon for the hybrids and the patrons. The dinner tables have been set out on the side of the field piled high with Hors d'oeuvre. You’re there with Namjoon greeting the humans. Games are set out too- for the hybrids and humans to play. 

- it’s no secret that they’ve gotten close, and jimin had assumed they’d talked about it- but apparently not. Seokjin is so angry he’s nearly crying. “why- hoseok- why do you want to leave the farm?” Hoseok’s little otter ears are tight against his scalp. “I just- I didn’t want to assume?”

- “Oh- so you’d rather just- throw away everything that we’re trying- all of this- you don’t you dont want to stay do you-” Jimin has never seen seokjin looking so lost, and he knows enough to guess that Seokjin’s anger is at least in part to due to some trauma (later- Jimin will find out that Seokjin’s mother left him with his last owner- an abusive man- to save herself).  

- Jimin knows enough to get in between them, telling them to calm down and spend a minute away from each other. Jimin ends up with Hoseok- “it’s hard Jimin- how do you, how do you have so much sureness with Y/n? with Namjoon and yoongi too? How do you look at them and trust that you should stay?” Hoseok's eyes remain on Jimin's red tag. 

- Jimin sighs, thinking it through, “do you look at Seokjin and know he cares about you? like- do you know it in your bones?” Hoseok bites his lower lip, “yes- but-” 

- “Then you should stay Hoseok,” Jimin walks Hoseok up to the main house where the stickers sit on the prep table. Changing out his yellow one for a red one. And when they head off back down the hill, Seokjin is waiting on the path with Yoongi, apologizing and dragging Hoseok away to the barns where Seokjin’s own private room is. Hoseok goes willingly, smiling up at the older hybrid. His narrow shoulders cuddled under one of Seokjin's wide ones. 

- jimin has to admit, an otter and an alpaca are a weird combination for a hybrid pack (But no stranger than a pair of puppies and a snake). His thoughts drift towards Taehyung- and Jimin hopes that his friend won't end up alone. it must not be easy- to see all of you pair off like this. 

- in some ways, that adoption day is full of just as much bullshit as they usually are. there are always people who dont understand the effort it takes to take care of a hybrid- they aren't just like any ordinary pet. it's easy to spot the ones that view them as pets- and less like people. You get a few rich people looking to adopt a companion as always. 

- A substantial group of families also look to adopt similarly aged companions for their single children. And you agree to more than one possible test weekend. You’re always so particular about letting the children go, so wary and so careful in the way you let them interact with the families.

- Though they don’t have parents here- there are more than a few good role models and parental figures. More than one child chooses a red tag for themselves. And they always know have a right to it- no matter how young they are. You make it clear to the group of them; If they don’t want to be adopted they don’t have to be. 

- You even get one couple- the woman withdrawn and sad, and a slightly jealous look at your own pregnant stomach says more than any words could. It’s pretty common for women who can’t have children to adopt hybrid children. and though some of it doesn't sit right with you, You aren’t one to judge. 

- Jimin spends most of the adoption day helping you balance the need for food and for games. running back and forth to the house to help. Though there is a little work that needs to be done here and there just to keep the farm running as usual. grey storm clouds roll in halfway through the day, puncturing the blue sky- foretelling scattered showers and storms. and jimin hopes it will cut the adoption day short so that you can return to your routines. 

- Jimin is just helping Yoongi putting away a broken badminton net When it happens- Jimin isn’t certain why it does. Only that he hears the words outside the shed after Yoongi's just excited to grab the broken rackets (Namjoon isn't the only clumsy hybrid you have at the farm). 

- “oh sorry- ew gross,” a shrill female voice says, and then he rounds the corner and sees yoongi picking himself up from the dirt- a rich lady and her peacock hybrid looking down at him like he’s the dirt beneath his shoes. The peacock hybrid has Yoongi’s sun hat in his hands and there is another hybrid- a wolf hybrid from the farm with a green sticker on his shirt, who growls down at yoongi.

- His shoulders shake too the way they do when he’s been touched and he doesn’t want to be. Jimin has seen you brush your fingers over the back of Yoongi’s hand, has even felt the coolness of the snake hybrid through the fabric when the elder grabbed his sleeve. Has touched him even more intimately as of late. But he knows that Yoongi can’t tolerate being touched by people he doesn’t trust- doesn’t want to touch him. basically, anyone, that's, not you, Namjoon, or Jimin himself. 

- “Hey- what the fuck!” Jimin spits, grabbing the sunhat out of the hybrid's hand with a growl, his ears flat against his head. If Jimin had elongated canines like Namjoon they would be barred in anger as he shoves the larger hybrid back. Yoongi shrinks impossibly smaller behind him.

- Jimin is hot and itchy from the heat and the humidity, and he really just wants to shower and cool off. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with entitled people today. And more importantly- no one touches Yoongi on Jimin’s watch.

- The hybrid looks surprised to be talked to in that way, he’s nearly a head taller than Jimin let alone the slightly taller feathers that poke out of the top of his head that give him the appearance of several more inches- but Jimin’s intimidating enough with his set expression to send the hybrid huffing away. Feathers fluffed.

- The peacock's iridescent feathers stand up on end as he grabs the hand of his human owner, her diamond tennis bracelet glittering in the sunlight. “This was getting boring anyway. Sorry” he tosses over his shoulder at the canine hybrid, who looks so disappointed his ears pinned back against his head. They only give him that- barely a look, before they’re heading off down the hill in the direction of the line of cars parked on the grass.

- The wolf hybrid deflates audibly- watching the woman and the other hybrid disappear down the hill. promises of home and family disappearing in a moment, but Jimin has to think- if they’d be discouraged so easily- were they really worth it? The wolf hybrid doesn't seem to think so- Turning his angry tear-filled eyes on Jimin. 

- But Jimin can see the hate in his eyes and knows not to mistake the tears for only sadness. “You both ruin everything” he growls out- before they too run back towards the barns- no doubt to tell the others how Yoongi had sabotaged their adoption. Even though that was far from the truth. in all honestly- yoongi just bumped into the lady- or more probably- the lady bumped into him when he was on his way out of the shed.

- Jimin holds out his sunhat to Yoongi, who takes it from Jimin carefully, Jimin doesn’t linger on the fact that his hand still shakes. Jimin’s hand lingers somewhere close enough where Yoongi could touch it could reach out if he wants too. If he wants to get that kind of comfort from Jimin's touch- then Jimin will willingly give it. 

- a faint flush coats the elder's cheeks. Oh no- he must be overheating then, Jimin feels a rush of concern. He knows what you would do, hover your hand close enough to Yoongi’s forehead, usher him upstairs for a break in the air conditioning, and a glass of icy lemonade.

- All they can hear is the shouts of laughter at the games the others play in the fields, “I understand why you don’t want to stay in the barns, why you don’t want to socialize with some of them, they’re so unkind to you it makes me crazy.” Jimin shakes his head, sour anger filling him like a rotten peach.

- Yoongi, looks more than pacified, looking up at Jimin with an indecipherable look. Most of the time, Jimin can get a good guess on how he’s feeling but not now- not that indecipherable heaviness he finds there. or the strangely heavy marshmallow scent that’s fluffed around them. Jimin lets go of Yoongi’s hat.

- After a moment Yoongi nods, and Jimin takes it as a thank you. They’re done for the day and dinner won’t be for another few hours or so. Jimin is ready to avoid some of the strangers and hopefully take advantage of the empty showers. The sky is grey with incumbent storm clouds when Jimin makes his way to the shower buildings which he finds blissfully empty; except for the bear hybrid Jackson that tosses a greeting at Jimin before exiting.

- Jimin doesn’t even bother to flick the lights on, instead of settling for the calm light that comes through the skylights, grey and hazy. the storm clouds have started to roll in properly. He hums as he disrobes, goes to grab his favorite strawberry body wash, and picks the last shower at the end, disrobing in relative comfort, glad for a moment of privacy.

- The blissfully Coldwater does wonders for his overheating muscles, relaxing his body deliciously from a day spent walking up and down the hill. he digests the chaos of the day- seokjin and hoseok fighting, yoongi getting shoved. you'd looked frazzled the last time he'd seen you, smile strained as you made small talk with most of the humans, Namjoon always close incase you needed someone to lean on.

-  Jimin had been able to tell that your feet were sore just by looking at you. Namjoon will probably make you sit down before long, maybe he already has. You’ll probably cut off the adoption day because of the rain. Taking down names and information before you send them on their way. You rarely let a hybrid leave the farm after one adoption day, needing to have more private meetings and house calls to willingly part with one of them. You just want to make sure you dont release them back into another abusive household. 

- He hums as he washes, lingering in the water and taking a longer shower than he usually would. He hums, testing the way his vocal cords wrap around the acoustics of the empty high ceilinged room. 

Then he hears the scuffling of someone in the bathroom too and cuts off. A little abashed at being caught. The rustling getting closer and its a moment before he realizes that the rustling is coming from his own section of the bath. he smells him the second before he pulls the shower curtain gets pulled back. 

- “Yoongi!” Jimin shouts, furiously grabbing at something to cover his nakedness. Jimin furiously tries to cover his crotch, grabbing one of the large bargain bottles of shampoo and hold it there even as cold water runs over his face. Getting into his wide eyes. “Yoongi what the fuck! You’re naked!”

- Jimin is glad that the rumors about snake hybrids having double the appendages as a normal hybrid are false but he can’t stop his blush or his wandering eyes as he sees the snake hybrid in full. Or the hot lick of arousal that shocks him through his core- especially when he recognizes the heaviness to Yoongi's scent as being arousal. 

- there is a single moment, jimin can smell yoongi- can see the want in his eyes, can feel his own scent fluff out to meet his, yoongi sags under the weight of Jimin's scent as the surprise dissipates. "do you-" Jimin's face must be brighter than a tomato. He reaches out a tentative hand, "do you want to-" 

- Before Jimin can do much more than that Yoongi’s lips are on his, tentative but firm and passionate, the fire leaking into him from Yoongi as jimin stumbles in surprise. The kiss tastes like thank you and Ive wanted to do this for longer than i care to admit and everything yoongi can't say, can't let slip past his lips. jimin drops the shampoo bottle which narrowly misses his foot as Yoongi’s hands come up to encircle his jaw so softly like Yoongi is holding the most important thing in his world. Jimin is so shocked that for a moment- he doesn’t kiss back and Yoongi retracts- not before Jimin chases his lips and the snake hybrid returns to him.

- It’s the first time Yoongi’s ever touched Jimin so bare, and the snake’s hands on the back of his neck feel cold and shivery but good. As Jimin’s back hit’s the wall and their fronts press together for a moment, just brushing. Then colliding with more force as they both realize how good it feels to be so close to someone you trust. It’s dizzying- intoxicating, and Jimin knows his mouth is moving sloppily even if he wants to kiss Yoongi with just as much intent. 

- The snake hybrid bites- actually bites- down on Jimin’s tongue. And a strangled whine comes to live and die in his throat. A snarl in his ears from Yoongi's mouth as the snake hybrid keeps his biting, moves to Jimin's throat- bites hard Enough that Jimin knows he'll leave a bruise. "leave more- yoongi please mark me" jimin feels hot with the thought of it- the thought of all the other hybrids being able to smell yoongi on his scent gland. 

- Jimin doesn’t know where to put his hands, he knows enough to know that Yoongi doesn’t like to be touched and unsure if it extends to right now. but it seems okay if he’s doing the touching. His hands sliding down Jimin's back to his waist. He’s a good kisser, the best that Jimin’s ever kissed (not that there have been many) and he tips his head forward to put as much scalding force as he can into it when yoongi leaves his neck in favor of his mouth, trying to match Yoongi’s intensity even if he can’t match his skill.

- Yoongi takes a step forward, and Jimin’s cock brushes his hipbone, and he can’t stop the way his hips jump at the contact, brushing into Yoongi further. Jimin’s blood boils with arousal. Yoongi is equally as hard compared to Jimin. And Jimin doesn't know if its water or precum that he feels on his skin. Can't look down to check.

- By the time Yoongi leans back and finishes running his fingers through Jimin’s hair and over his shoulders. Jimin’s so wound up he feels like he’s about the pass out. The cool water cascading over his back doing nothing to settle him. Yoongi moves his hips- testing the waters, as he grinds, works jimin’s hips into an unsteady rhythm. and jimin moans. 

- Yoongi pulls back, looking at jimin, their noses brushing, like he can’t bear to have jimin farther away from him than this, want heavy in his eyes, and Jimin tastes the words on Yoongi’s lips as good as if he’d said them. “Yoongi” jimin breathes. Palms pressed carefully to the shower wall so that he won’t reach out and yank Yoongi closer. But he’s Weak against the wake of this of all this feeling.

- “fuck- kiss me again- can we- ” Jimin feels strung out, his body heavy with something like heat- maybe Jimin is actually having a heat and it’s not just in his imagination (he wouldn't really know what it felt like- never having had one before because of his malnutrition). But This kind of kissing is certainly enough to trigger one.

- Yoongi opens his mouth for a second, almost like he’s about to speak- or to try to, Jimin’s never been sure if he can- if it’s muteness or just Yoongi being selective. And then in the next moment, Yoongi’s gone, almost tripping on his way out of the showers with how fast he’s leaving jimin. A whine dies in his throat and jimin starts after him, But then Yoongi turns back. Gesturing with a hand for jimin to stay put. Yoongi looks angry, and it takes a moment for Jimin to realize that the anger wasn’t directed at jimin- only at Himself.

- Jimin stays in the shower, water thundering down around him as the sky overhead thunders too. Jimin listens to the faint sound of Yoongi dressing and then leaving the showers. Jimin lets him go. So sure that he has absolutely no idea what just happen- or even if he didn’t imagine the whole thing.

- jimin’s hand on himself doesn't feel nearly good as Yoongi’s did. 

- Yoongi’s hands shake all the way back up the hill, and he hopes his wet hair won’t be too suspicious especially when a mixed group of hybrids crosses his path. Returning to the barns as most of the adoption day festivities have ended.

 - Yoongi’s careful to keep his eyes averted. And like usual- the conversation comes to a halt when Yoongi passes them by. It no longer bugs him the way it might have once. They have a good reason not to want to associate with him. Yoongi’s body shakes with the weight of the things he’s done and the things he’s going to do.

- you gather with 3 families on your porch as you take down their names and contact information. You send yoongi a concerned look as he quickly heads inside the house. Pausing only for a moment before he decides to go to Namjoon first. Later- later he’ll ask you too. 

- Stupid- he’s been so stupid recently. Touching you- indulging in these short sweet touches because he wants more so badly. Knows he can never have it doesn’t stop the wanting. If his owner ever found out what he’s done- if she ever found out what he’d almost done with jimin- she’d surely have Jimin’s hands for it. 

- And as much as Yoongi wishes it were any other way- Jimin almost touching him does remind him of far worse times. Though he’d been the one to initiate it this time- the memories still linger. 

- Times when foreign hands touched his skin as he’d thrashed and screamed trying to protest against the taunting words of his owner. “I’ve never been interested in snake dick but if you want him for tonight you can have him- just be careful- he bites” and he shakes with those memories. Though its been many years. like most kinds of torture- eventually, his owner had grown bored with using yoongi's body as a bargaining chip. Yoongi wonders if he’s ever going to be able to be touched that way without feeling the revulsion at his own body.

- Jimin had come close, but he'd known- known that yoongi didn't want him to touch him. Had seemed more than willing to be touched himself. the revulsion hadn't hit him until the end. 

- The places he’s been touched without his consent feel black and decaying- or like ink, every time someone touches him- Yoongi’s surprised that ink doesn’t come away on your hands soft and delicate. But it didn’t change the fact that Yoongi wanted it- and wants it still. 

- he wants to see you soft and sated the way you look sometimes in the morning when he can smell Namjoon on you- wants to cause it- maybe, someday in the future if you'll let him. He knows you’d be gentle with him. Wouldn’t put your hands anywhere he didn’t want. Would check in with him- going as slowly or as quickly as he wanted too. Namjoon would be able to be gentle too- Yoongi’s sure of it.

- He wants it, even though he knows that want only put you all in danger. He’s an incredibly selfish person. He hopes he never gets to have that intimacy with you, for your sake.

- yoongi should only let himself dream of something good before he goes- sinks back into that life. But the temptation for more is too strong sometimes, his want filling him up like sticky sweet syrup that pollutes every moment. 

- Namjoon is on the second floor of your house and Yoongi takes the stairs two at a time. Folding laundry in what will one day be the nursery for your child. He’s taken the ultrasound up here now- hung it up so he can look at it. and Yoongi is reminded of A few days ago when he gushed about the development of your child to Yoongi in the kitchen comparing them to the size of a fruit. “a cute little cantaloupe- the cutest little cantaloupe”

- You and Namjoon have made the decision not to find out the gender, but the walls of the nursery are still pained blue, puffy clouds above and little flowers below, dandelions and daisies, a stalwart sunflower that curls over the arch of the door half-finished. Yoongi knows you work on the mural it whenever you can. But Namjoon gets a little paranoid about the fumes- you compromise and keep the windows open along with the door to your balcony to allow as much air circulation as possible.

- The crib, a fluffy white thing is already piled into the corner. And Yoongi remembers the first few weeks here when you and Namjoon had overzealously ordered it. He’d come downstairs after dinner one night and found both of you puzzling over the directions. And he’d shooed Namjoon away as he’d helped you put it together. The three of you ending up giggly and punch drunk tired by the time it was fully put together. And then had to carry it all the way up the stairs. 

-A mobile of little felted flowers that Seokjin made you as a thank you present a hangs above the empty Crib- colorful and cute. And Namjoon has set the laundry on the unused changing table in neat stacks. All of the other furniture is piled into the center of the room so that you can paint the walls. He turns when he hears Yoongi, his tail swishing.

- “Hey Yoon- what you get caught in a rainstorm or something?” the rain splatters against the windows with a soft patter and Yoongi drips onto the floor. He never bothered to dry off after the unintentional shower with jimin. Yoongi makes a shrug that means ‘something like that’ and if the younger hybrid hovers on the way that Yoongi’s lips look a little kiss bitten and swollen he doesn’t say a thing. Namjoon knows better than anyone- what they talk about and what they don’t.

- He hands over the slip of paper; “jimin should move into the main house, you and I could clean out one of the storage rooms and move the stuff into the attic.”

-  Yoongi watches Namjoon’s eyes rove over the words a few times. The hybrid purses his lips, “I’ve talked to Y/n about this- and she agrees- but I don’t know if he wants too? He seems pretty comfortable in the barns, he likes Taehyung and they’re friends. and we kind of want to leave it up to him if we can.”

- Yoongi snatches the paperback from him, annoyance flickering in his chest as he rolls his eye. Didn’t Namjoon see that nothing would change if they didn’t push him a little? Jimin is the type to take that kind of abuse again and again if it means not making a fuss. And Yoongi knows it’s only a matter of time before something happens again. He turns it over onto the other side and using the wall as a place to write.

- “He’s already being treated differently because of me” 'me' being double underlined- so that Namjoon really understands what he’s trying to say. Yoongi just wants to make sure Jimin is safe before he goes. Before he needs to leave and before it gets too dangerous and too near a time when his owner will physically retrieve him. Not that Namjoon knows that Yoongi’s presence has an expiration date. Namjoon searches Yoongi’s face for a source to his desperation and finds none.

- Yoongi has never felt worse for keeping secrets. Maybe in another world- Yoongi would have confessed and asked Namjoon, with all of his connections to the police, for help. Yoongi knows enough to put the whole crime system out of whack and yet. Years of negative reinforcement and beatings have taught him to keep his mouth shut and that isn’t going to change now; not when Yoongi’s life isn’t the only one at risk and he knows you’ll all live if he plays by the rules. He doesn't care about his own safety anymore. 

- The second he sees Yoongi’s distraught expression Namjoon steps closer Taking off his flannel and tugging it around his shoulders. Namjoon might not make moves to scent mark Yoongi but dressing him in his clothes is as good as he gets. Namjoon’s comforting alpha scent fluffs around him.

- Yoongi wonders if jimin feels the pull the same way he does. Dynamics are more mobile in snake hybrids and downright non-existent in humans. but they’re more set in canines. Namjoon puts his hand on Yoongi’s clothed arm and Yoongi shuffles close after a second. His nose centimeters from Namjoon’s neck taking in deep breathes to try and steady himself. He didn’t realize he was shaking.

- “It will be alright Yoongi, I promise. He’s gonna be safe.” Namjoon adds quieter. And below them both- in the first floor of the house, he can hear your voice, echoing louder and laughing at some sort of joke, Namjoon’s tail starts wagging at the suggestion of you. “I want them to feel safe too.”

- Yoongi wants to write “he should take my room- I won’t be staying in it soon anyway.” but Yoongi needs to make sure- before he leaves. Jimin has to be included in your little pack. He doesn’t want to think- about what the three of you will go through when he eventually has to leave. The days are counting down to the end of the summer. 

- He’s fucking selfish, so selfish, to kiss Jimin like that when he knows he won't be able to stay in the hybrids life. He’s selfish every time he begs affection off you, every day he keeps Namjoon Company when he’s cleaning up the other barns. Yoongi writing out words in the dust when Namjoon asks him questions. Eyes only searching when Namjoon turns his back. Looking for any sort of hidden compartment. Completing his task even if it’s the last thing he wants to do. Betraying you like this.

- Jimin spends the rest of the day wondering if the kiss with Yoongi was just a dream. But later at dinner, Yoongi won’t meet his eyes, and jimin knows he didn’t imagine the kiss. Guilt sticks to Yoongi, more distracting than honey stuck between your fingertips.

- Both of them go to sleep still thinking about the kiss. Jimin wondering if it will happen again and Yoongi thinking that he’d like it too. His fingers running over his lower and upper lips, mind awash with the memory of jimin’s mouth on his. And night falls heavy like a weighted blanket on the farm. The sky a big sheet with holes poked through for stars. A heavenly breeze tempting away the summer heat.

- All of the hybrids safe and snoring in their beds. Some even paired- if they’ve got it. Two furry bodies packed close on a single bed. Some even dream of homes they mind one day live in or of the people that one day they’ll get to love. The idea of being kept and treasured lulling them into a drowsy haze of anticipation and security. 

- That night, Namjoon knocks on Yoongi’s door. the hybrid leaning up against the doorframe as he watches the snake get ready for bed. “you know... you could sleep in our room if you want, we have an air conditioner in there too.” yoongi has a notepad ready, he knows that Namjoon likes to open all the windows and even the door to your balcony to let the fresh air in so that it feels like you're sleeping outside. He steels himself to think of someone other than himself before he writes- “I’m okay- thanks though” Yoongi writes out. 

- Namjoon lifts one of Yoongi’s blankets to his neck before he leaves, thoroughly scents marking it before he leaves it with Yoongi. And Yoongi sleeps easy that night with his nose pressed to the blanket. Safe and secure in his room. Nothing bad happens to yoongi that night even though he cuddles close to the blanket, and when he wakes in the morning. his heart beats a steady thumping rhythm- his whole body humming with anticipation. 

- It’s different to feel excited about being in love, excited for a day spent close to the people he cares about. And he knows he won't take a single day for granted. 

- The crickets and cicadas chirping in the field. And in a low tone on the tree outside, a morning dove gentle and unassuming. The sun rising over the hills. Tastes of idyllic and smells of Eden. Like lavender and honey.

- A hand outstretched, scrambling in the dirt before it goes still, fingers just a few inches from safety. Blood mixing in with the sand. The morning is not perfect for everyone.

- But even you would say the morning was peaceful, if not for the dead body dumped at the end of your driveway. 

Kofi

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 61

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 2,591

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Taking Care of Business

You were in shock and at a loss for words, while Amber’s impatient expression as she stared you down meant that she obviously expected you to say something. When it became apparent that you weren’t going to kickstart this lovely conversation, she gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes before breaking the silence with a haughty voice that instantly grated on your nerves.

“Well, are you going to let me in, or what?”

Your subconscious gave a resounding scream of ‘fuck off!’ and hissed at Amber, while your brain warned to proceed with caution. The last thing you wanted right now was a fight, but it wasn’t clear which path led to a worse confrontation: letting her in or telling her to leave. Deciding to attempt civility, you clamped down the words ‘I’d really rather not’ that were on the tip of your tongue, and instead gave a small nod and stood back from the doorway to let her in. The sickly sweet smell of flowers hit when she passed by, and you had the incredibly random thought of where the fuck does she get perfume in an apocalypse? 

Ignoring the unimportant question, you watched as she glanced around your room, eyes flickering over the small bed, the wooden chair piled with clothes, and then the stack of old rickety crates holding your belongings. Her face scrunched up in utter disdain of the meager surroundings, solidifying what Ben had once said about her coming from a privileged background before the apocalypse. Her room upstairs probably had all kinds of fancy furniture and clothes. You wanted to feel annoyed, even a bit ashamed, but then remembered whose bed you were now spending the night in and immediately lost all sense of self-consciousness. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what material possessions she might own, because you had Negan and she didn’t. No matter how this conversation went, that fact wasn’t going to change, and nothing she said was going to ruin your newfound happiness. You were still nervous and feeling a bit cagey being in the same room as the woman who was far from your biggest fan, but the security of knowing where you and Negan stood with one another helped you to keep calm and project an air of indifference. 

However, you still didn’t want to play this too arrogantly, and decided not to close the door the entire way, pushing it so that there was still a centimeter of space keeping it unlatched. The crack was small enough for her to not have noticed, and gave you that extra padding of reassurance. You didn’t trust her one bit, and wanted an easier exit, if necessary, or a way to hopefully be heard if you yelled for help. Not that you were too worried about a physical confrontation; you looked up and down her petite, small frame and thought, you can take her if you have to. The subconscious gave an aggressive yell of agreement and stared Amber down with laser-like focus. 

Not wanting to make any assumptions, you decided to stand there silently and wait her out. It didn’t take long, as she abruptly turned to you with a sneer and said, “I bet you’re feeling mighty proud of yourself right about now.”

Well then, guess we’re going with no pretense or attempt at subtlety. Raising your brows in surprise, you honestly replied, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” You were certain this had to do with Negan, but weren’t sure if it was in regards to the last few weeks, if she had heard about the scene in the cafeteria, or, perhaps, it was something else entirely.

She narrowed her eyes at you and practically hissed, “Don’t play stupid with me. I know that you’re the one who convinced him to throw us all out.” 

You couldn’t hide the look of utter surprise at her words. Had Negan said something to the wives today? But when?! You had seen him off on the run to the outpost this morning, and there had only been perhaps a 20 minute space of time from when his men had sat down for dinner and he himself had entered the cafeteria. Had he spent that small chunk of time talking to his wives?

Apparently so, as Amber confirmed a few seconds later. 

“I can’t believe he would just march in there and tell us, tell me, that we’re not needed anymore.” She scoffed, as if the idea was laughable. “And I bet it was your idea that we lose our rooms too, right? You couldn’t even let us stay where we were, let us be on the same floor as him. No, you somehow convinced him to kick us out, and tell us we’re to ‘reintegrate into the community’. What the fuck!” 

She had used her fingers in air quotes around the reintegrate part, which would’ve been a bit humorous if not for her screeched curse at the end. Your emotions were all jumbled, since part of you wanted to fist pump with joy that Negan had decided to officially move out his wives and make them a part of the community, while another part of you knew that to let your happiness show would only cause Amber to escalate. And while you didn’t feel too bad for her, especially considering the way she’d treated other women like Maria and Trixie, you could still relate on a human level to the shitty feeling of being unwanted. It was that little crumb of empathy that you tried to lead with, despite the subconscious begging you to just bypass all that and use a fist instead. 

“I honestly wasn't aware that he did that,” you said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in your voice. “I understand that it’s gotta be frustrating to-”

“Don’t try to feed me bullshit by saying you understand!” she interrupted, eyes blazing with anger. “You think that just because you waltzed in there with your little food trays and spread your legs for him whenever he wants that it makes you better than us. You could’ve played by the rules and become a wife like the rest of us, but nooo. You must think you’re really fucking special, to screw us all over and wreck the entire system! News flash bitch, you’ll never be enough to satisfy him, and he’ll get bored with you soon enough. Then we’ll see how much you ‘understand’ when the tables turn and he asks us to come back while you’re the one tossed to the side! Because that’s what will happen in time, and it’ll make him look weak and indecisive to the entire community. I hope you’re prepared for that, for his potential downfall to be all. Your. Fault!”   

Well so much for going the empathetic route, you thought as a spark of anger burned in your gut. She stood there, breathing heavily from her outburst and wearing a cruel smirk as she waited to see what effect her words would have on you. Said effect was that both your subconscious and brain were now wielding swords, ready to go to battle and take her out. 

Any desire to try and make peace flew out the window, as you saw through her act and straight to exactly what she was trying to accomplish by confronting you. How dare she take her own hurt and insecurities and try to throw them back on you. And what made you extra mad was how calculated they were to cause injury. She had spit the words with pure venom, designed to seep into your veins and poison all confidence that what you had with Negan was real. 

If she had said this to you even two days ago, it might’ve actually worked, might’ve combined with that padlocked box of questions and been the tipping point to send you over the edge into fully believing every word. There had also been the ball of self-doubt, which until the other night had been constantly following you around and whispering that Negan would never give up a group of women who were always at his beck and call for someone as independent and outspoken as you. That he couldn’t possibly change his rules so completely for you. That he couldn’t possibly love you. 

But this wasn’t two days ago, and you knew better now. 

Spine stiffening, you stared Amber down and said in a cool yet stern voice, “It’s obvious that nothing I say will make you happy, unless it’s that I leave Negan alone and let you have him.” You saw her eyes spark in anticipation at the words, as if she expected you to do just that. “But that’s not going to happen.” 

Her fists clenched at her sides, and she opened her mouth, probably to spout more vitriol. But you weren’t having it. In fact, she wasn’t even worth the effort of fighting, and refusing to spend another second entertaining her bullshit would be a more satisfying win than arguing back and forth. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” 

“Why you-”

“Leave, Amber. Before this escalates and ends in a public and unattractive way. Unless you want others to see you escorted out of the Sanctuary.”

You were possibly talking out your ass with that last bit, since you didn’t have the authority to ban anyone from the compound. However, she didn’t need to know that, and you could tell that the threat worked when her mouth clamped shut, eyes blazing with hatred as she marched towards you. For a moment, you had the fear that she was going to start a physical altercation. Instead, she angrily stomped past, a hair’s breadth away from knocking into you as the pungent smell of fake flowers trailed after her. 

“This isn’t over, bitch.” 

The words were said as she grabbed the knob and threw back the door dramatically. It flew open and slammed into the wall, swinging mere inches from your face. It would’ve been an impressive exit, except that she had barely set foot out into the hall when every muscle in her body went taut as a bowstring, and her face drained of all color as she looked at something up and to the left. 

Taking a step forward to glance out the doorway, your eyes widened in shock at the sight of Negan standing right outside. You weren’t sure how long he had been there, but seeing as how the door had been unlatched and opened a crack the entire time, he had to have at least heard the end of your conversation. 

Her mouth opened but no words came out, and you knew that she was frantically trying to come up with a way to twist the situation. If given enough time, she’d make herself look squeaky clean and try to manipulate things so that it would appear as if the confrontation was somehow your fault. Rather than give her time to come up with a bullshit excuse, Negan spoke first, his tone low and deadly serious. 

“Don’t say a fucking word. Nothing’s changed from what I told you earlier, and I don’t want any more fucking feedback about it. You and I are fucking done, and if you can’t handle that, then you’ll be escorted the fuck out first thing tomorrow morning, just like she fucking said.”

You felt a spark of satisfaction at his agreement with your threat to make her leave, at the way he stood in solidarity with you. Amber deflated slightly at his words, but she still glanced back at you over her shoulder, eyes shooting daggers. Unable to help one moment of pure pettiness, you looked her square in the eye and got the last word.

 “I’d say this is fucking over.” 

She knew she’d been beaten, you could see it written all over her face. But Amber was prideful, and she’d not crumple in front of an audience. Instead, she held her head high and walked quickly past Negan without a second glance. The two of you watched her march down the hall and disappear into the stairwell, and you had a feeling that, despite her brave face, she was going to find somewhere private to hide and lick her emotional wounds. 

Negan turned to you, the anger slipping from his expression as he scanned up and down your body, as if to make sure that there was no physical injury. Thankfully, all wounds had been emotionally inflicted and they were nothing more than shallow cuts, rather than the deep stabs Amber had been hoping for. 

“How long have you been standing there?”

His lips curled up into a pleased smirk, as he replied, “Long enough to know that you had the situation fucking handled, and didn’t need my help.”

You huffed out a tiny laugh at that, pleased to know that while he had been listening, he hadn’t just charged in and taken over. He’d been willing to stay back and let you deal with the conflict on your own...had trusted your ability to take care of it. 

You started to exit the room and close the door, but halted when he said, “Why don’t you pack a bag first.”

“What?” you blinked rapidly at him in confusion.

He shrugged casually, as if to try and offset the seriousness of his words. “Since you’re spending nights with me, it only makes fucking sense to move some of your stuff up to my room. Maybe then you won’t keep stealing my fuckin’ toothbrushes and clothes. Maybe if you ask nicely enough, I’ll even clear out a drawer or two.”

It took a few seconds to process that Negan had just done the apocalypse version of asking you to start moving in with him. Your subconscious and brain had linked arms and were twirling in a circle while tossing confetti into the air, but you tried to act as cool and casual as Negan had about it, nodding and turning back into your room. It wasn’t until you were sure he couldn’t see your face that you allowed a huge grin and silent scream of excitement.

Grabbing the brown sack, you threw in half your t-shirts (aka the ones that were currently clean) and the navy blue gym shorts. A slight blush tinted your cheeks as you tried to quickly and discreetly throw in a few pairs of underwear and socks, though you knew he was standing in the doorway and watching your every move. You also grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste, but left the shower items. Negan had plenty of those to share, and you weren't willingly giving up the luxury of his fluffy towels and fancy soaps. You topped off the bag with some extra hair ties, a comb, and the copy of Harry Potter. It wasn’t everything, but it put enough of a dent in your belongings that you wouldn’t need to stop back here every evening after dinner, and could instead go straight to his rooms. 

Walking towards him, you went to sling the bag strap up over your arm, but he held out his hand, palm up in offering. You gave a joking eye roll, but passed over the bag so that he could sling it up over his own broad shoulder. Instinctively reaching for his hand, you laced your fingers with his and gave a squeeze of thanks, as the two of you started off down the hall and upstairs to his room.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[undersero]

mouthy

repost from my old blog!

pairing: geto suguru x female reader

contains: dubious consent/consent not explicitly given within the written work, brat taming, blowjob/face fucking, degradation, spitting, slapping, swearing.

word count: 1066

**this work is intended for 18+ audiences only. minors do not interact. do not repost this work. do not promote this work on any other platform**

“Watch your fucking mouth, little girl,” Suguru’s breath ghosts over your ear, bringing goosebumps to your arms as his hand clamps tighter around your throat, back meeting the wall with enough force to momentarily knock the attitude right out of you.

All the vitriol in your body evaporated, the words of your next sharp retort dying on your tongue as soon as you felt his hand closing around your windpipe. Wordlessly, helplessly, silently, your mouth opened and closed as you desperately wrack your brain for a response, but none comes, and you’re left to gaze at your boyfriend’s hulking figure.

Sugu is pissed. It’s the silent, seething kind of anger that so easily bubbles over, makes him snap, and has him acting on his irritation before he can reason through the fact that you’re looking for this exact rise out of him. He’s gone, giving in to the desire, the dark, lustful need to put you in your place.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he asks you, faux sympathy dripping on each syllable. He considers you, gaze dark as he smirks at the blush that’s invaded your cheeks.

“Not so big and tough now, are you? Little whore mouth of yours isn’t as brave now?” he’s cooing, so condescending it makes your skin prickle with anger and embarrassment, but there’s little to no fight left in you, not now, not after he’s silenced you with his large hand on your throat, long fingers millimeters from overlapping at the back of your neck.

Words, again, fail you, and you’re barely able to gaze into the tall man’s eyes as he squeezes your throat, and you’re ashamed to feel yourself get wet at your predicament.

“Since you want to run your mouth,” he continues, seeming to not need your input on the matter, “I’ll have to put it to work, now won’t I?”

Quick as a flash, you’re on your knees in front of him, eye level with the distinguished bulge in his pants. Shame creeps up your spine further when you feel excitement in your veins, but he seems to be aware of this, because he laughs. Cold. Cruel.

“You don’t get to cum, baby,” he tells you, again, the condescension in his voice so heavy and mocking that you want to cry. Your expression must reflect betrayal and shock, because he laughs again, fisting his hand in your hair and tugging you closer to him, pressing your face unceremoniously against his hardening cock.

One hand snakes around the front of his pants and pulls his zipper down; the other hand still stays in your hair before yanking you forward. You feel the shaft, the hard, hot shaft of his cock against your nose and lips as you’re shrouded in his scent.

“Mouthy little whores like you are only going to service me, understood?”

And as if you needed guidance, he used the hand which was wrapped around your hair to move your head up and down. A nod.

“Oh, smart girl,” he said, faux-praising you. “Now get to work.”

Suguru’s cock is so thick that you often worry about whether or not it will fit in your mouth. It always seems to, though, even if he’s gotta force it a bit. After following instructions to spit on it, he was shoving his cock in your mouth, a satisfied moan leaving his lips.

Salty precum fills your mouth, a result of Sugu enjoying your brattiness more than his words lead you to believe. But you know he enjoys it. He always does.

Sugu only gives you a moment before he’s thrusting into your mouth, a gag erupting from your throat as you were not quite ready for the full length of it. Your gag just makes him laugh, his hand pulling your hair and guiding you closer to his hips, ultimately forcing more of his cock down your unprepared throat.

Tears stream down your cheeks at this point, and you struggle to regulate your breathing, just as Sugu expects you to.

Abruptly, he pulls you off his cock, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his throbbing, needy dick. You sputter and gasp as air fills your desperate lungs, and Sugu’s low, cruel laugh reaches your ears. Your eyes unfocus, and for a moment, you think you hear his voice, but you can’t be sure.

And his hand slaps your cheek hard enough to leave a sting, making you whimper. Mere milliseconds after, he grips your jaw and forces you to look up at him. He isn’t mad, though, not like the slap may make you think. Instead, his face is amused.

“Have I fucked you dumb already?” he coos, mocking you. “Can’t even hear me when I’m asking you a question.” His fingers press into your cheeks, at the vacant spot between your teeth, making you open your mouth.

And he spits directly into your mouth, holding your jaw closed until he feels you swallow it. Arousal leaks from you at this point; Sugu knows just what to do to get you going. In the next moment, his cock is buried in your throat, and breathing is a struggle once more, though not as much as the first time he pressed his pubic bone against your face.

His thrusts aren’t gentle. He fucks into your face at a brutal, unwavering pace. Your throat slowly loosens, accommodating the massive length being fucked into it, though the wet and choking noises from your mouth don’t stop. They get louder. And as they get louder, Sugu’s thrusts get more desperate. It appears he was more aroused than you thought by your show of defiance, and soon you realize how correct that assumption is.

Less than ten thrusts into your hot, wet mouth later, and he’s pulling his cock from your mouth, now sloppy and wet, and jerking it over your face before globs of sticky cum paint your cheeks.

The sight of Sugu standing over you, cheeks pink, face flushed and pleasured, makes you whimper, and when he hears that, he smiles. This time, it isn’t cruel.

“Guess you got me off pretty good there, little girl,” he coos, friendly. Then, his hands are under your arms and he puts you on the couch, the closest piece of furniture, and settles down right on top of you.

And it’s many orgasms before he gets off of you again.