#and its not even people with dog trauma

[literallyjustahumantrashcan]

Just a reminder that Nakajima Atsushi of Bungou Stray Dogs is my special guy, and anyone who says he's a bad protagonist and/or that the protagonist should've been Dazai can catch the pointy end of my sword.

idc if you think he's annoying. If Dazai were the protagonist(and I say this as a huge Dazai fan) I guarantee people would find him annoying. Because people are never pleased and need something to bitch about.

Atsushi is messy, he is a bitch, he is morally grey, he is kind, he's a kid and his world is constantly falling down around him. And he is the best choice for bsd's protagonist.

[robotpussy]

i wish ppl would just shut up when ppl say they're afraid of something i don't care if you think it's stupid or unnecessary or the thing they're afraid of is already widely disliked by many people you don't understand where ppls trauma is coming from and even if there isn't any trauma causing the fear just shut up and move on

[blackvahana]

Yeah. Man. I'm just sitting here remembering I've been doing this my entire life. I feel like there was a patch I wasn't, part of the teen years, and that's either I've forgotten because trauma orrrr something else but

No wonder I've never felt anchored on this plane. But it doesn't matter, well, no, it matters a lot, but this life is just constantly isolating in how it works so I will keep the talk of not fitting in here and what being weirdly one got in one foot out has done to talking to myself lmfao but... I remember. I remember being in the garden as a really young child and I'm not a young child. I'm this chimaeric fairy-type thing of swirling and bulging colours like a psychedelic faceted-insect-eye's led trip, four or more wings of different types that are again, so ungrounded, so psychedelic, vivid. Not uncertain. Not half-formed. Fully formed, the starbeing in me just barely contained in the shape of the human-pretending-to-be-a-fae it's pretending to be

I remember so much, actually, and it's. it's just weirdly melancholic....? Maybe not melancholic, but it's so sad and I don't know why. Actually. I mean I've been trying to piece it together for like twenty minutes now but... People get a little irritated at me for being very "you don't understand and no one sees me" but like. I have lived an entire life walkinv streets where no one sees me. It's very complicated, there's. mental health stuff in there because of course I've come across a lot of spirits but I have bad issues seeing people as real but like. Man yeah no I am a snail and one part of me can be physically seen but the other has always been on the other side

[moodycarcass]

Finally watched Alfreds playhouse after years of hearing artist I followed say it fucked them up bad. I get it now it's 9am and I'm fucked up thinking about it

[iguinn]

honestly this is going to be controversial but after our dad told us quite a few stories about smaller dog actively trying to provoke and bite his lab mix (uve heard of him) to the point an incident happened that made him way more on edge around other dogs since... we think that we need to start to be more critical of small dog owners who dont train them because if a big lab mix like our sweet big boy meant to actually hurt their dog for growling and trying to attack him trust us we would not let our sweet boy be put down because some idiot did not train their dog to not actively attack other dogs because they think its ok cause their dog is small. train ur small dog cause even a generally gentle and well trained bigger dog (like our dad's lab mix) can snap if provoked enough.

[snekdood]

the stereotype of rwingers becoming trans and then trying to become leftists shouldnt be a "ewww you're morally impure and havent been a perfect progressive since you were a fetus like I have" type of thing, if anything it should open up a broader conversation on how a lot of people amab are basically from day one being indoctrinated into the right thus making it harder for people to accept themselves and thats very concerning and we need to do something to stop this.

[renah]

binged Kedamonotachi no Jikan and I'm still... processing... what I just read, but can I just say how cathartic it was to see Airi get back at her family when she goes to her hometown for the funeral...

[wlwreader]

hi yall :3

[mashpotatoe]

im a white jew, i was born in israel,

ive lived there all my life and was brought up in an environment that fosters racism driven by nationalism, nationalism driven by racism.

in israel, they teach you jews and muslims (though usually, they just say arabs) have always been enemies, the same way the US deems the entire middle east as a inherent war zone, ridding them of the responsibility for perpetuating war in thst region.

they tell you "were the fair and humane side who strives for peace! its the arabs who never accept the offer!"

i remember the first time i began doubting that sentiment was in fourth grade, when we were having a discussion in class about the character of Saul from the Torah. the teacher was talking about how Saul, the first monarch of the Kingdom of Israel, used to fight the Philistines, and when she added that the Philistines were the natural enemy of the Israelites, she asked the class what group of people is their modern equivalent to which everyone very eagerly replied "Arabs!" and nevermind that there in that same class sat two arab boys, one of whom sat next to me, who i looked at and thought "but he isnt my enemy? hes just a boy in my class."

they teach you to hate arabs. sometimes they say it outright. sometimes they say it more carefully, or make a distinction between good and bad arabs, those who are with us and those who are against us.

in a state based on the idea of (white) jewish supremacy, they teach you jews are naturally superior. they use the conspiratorial narrative of "jews controlling the world" to their favor, giving their own watered down explanation for why antisemitism exists, saying that it must be driven by jealousy.

the zionist movement always used antisemitism to its advantage, either for reinforcing the notion of jewish supremacy or appealing to the real pain and trauma of generations, people who survived the holocaust, connecting them to stolen land where they are "guaranteed" safety ergo granting "justification" for the suffering of others.

its using peoples real pain that makes fear mongering so effective, and when the israeli population grows up being told all of their neighboring countries want to kill them, they quickly get defensive of the "only land where they can feel safe", but the only explanation ever provided for Why these neighboring countries are considered enemies is because theyre arabs.

and when it comes to palestine, it isnt even recognized as a country, nor identity. just a threat. ive talked to many people who are genuinely unaware of the occupation, and they arent willing to believe it either, because the media narrative has successfully shifted the blame on hamas. because "how could it be us? we want peace! its the terrorists who make us look bad! and their children, they grow up to be antisemites*, might as well get rid of them too!" they never stop to think what environment these children must grow up in to develop these "radical" ideas.

* what they mean by antisemite is really just antizionist, but the term anti/zionist isnt practiced in local dialect, being a zionist is treated as a given

any jew who stands against israels oppression is dubbed a self hating jew, but the biggest contributors to antisemitism is the people in charge of an ethnostate, because at any moment they could decide who is not white enough to be jewish, who is too jewish to be white, who stood against the current coalition government and who is an obedient dog.

israelis arent a monolith, but many of them have been won over, convinced its an "us v them" situation, when in reality it could never be the "us" that "loses"

the israeli government was waiting for an event like the massacre on the seventh of october to declare war, to have the so called "right to defend itself", so they could initiate the final steps of an ethnic genocide and displace, if not kill, all remaining palestinians. under the guise of bringing peace.

it isnt too late to call for a permanent ceasefire, to end the occupation.

please contact your representatives, attend protests and rallies if you are able. palestine will be free, and the flowers will rise again.

[reserwrekt]

I've not been very active but for some reason ppl are following me. I get exhausted by apps sometimes and need long breaks. Actually, I'm exhausted by people. You don't understand, they put me in the pound and labeled me unadoptable.

[spacerockfloater]

The way people switched on Tamlin the moment Rhys was introduced is diabolical.

“Tamlin never really loved Feyre, it was all a trick from the start”: It is stated that Tamlin was disgusted by the idea of forcing someone to fall in love with him and considered it slavery, but ended up being so in love with her that he ultimately lets her go and choses her freedom and safety over that of his own people. Rhys confirms that Tamlin loved Feyre too much. And he loved her truly. Not because he had to. Tamlin treated Feyre with dignity when she was engaged to him. He introduced her as his lady, to be respected and cherished by all. And she really was loved by his people, too. Rhysand uses her as his lap dog to scare Hewn City and parades her as his whore.

“Tamlin never did anything for Feyre, he just used her”: He improved her and her family’s life in every aspect and offered her everything he had.

“Tamlin had sex with someone else in Calanmai”: Out of duty and responsibility because he didn’t want to force Feyre, who still wasn’t sure about her feelings, into it. All of the High Lords perform the Calanmai. Lucien says so. How convenient that this is never brought up with Rhysand. He surely does perform it as well. All the theories in here, “Lucien doesn’t know what he’s talking about/ This is a SC ritual only/ He probably just passes the duty on to someone else” are just a way for people to villainise Tam and glorify Rhys again. All of them inaccurate. The Calanmai is canonically performed by every High Lord. There’s no evidence that proves otherwise. As the son of one High Lord and the ambassador of another, Lucien would know. He is 500 years old. It’s just more convenient for SJM to never bring this up again because it raises the question of “Who was Rhysand fucking all these years?” and it makes her favourite character look bad. And once he is engaged to her, Tamlin flat out refuses to do it. Let’s be real for a second.

“Tamlin didn’t help Feyre under the mountain”: He literally could not. He was bound by a curse. He was forced to be Amarantha’s consort and a consort cannot oppose you. His powers were bound. Alis warns Feyre that Tamlin will not be able to help her. Stop acting as if he didn’t want to help her. He decapitated Amarantha the moment he got his autonomy back. Claiming that there’s no proof that Tamlin was under the influence of a spell when he literally didn’t break the curse and Amarantha’s magic didn’t allow him to use his powers is crazy. And even if he tried, he could never provide actual help. We see this when he begs Amarantha for Feyre’s life. Him showing he cares about her would only make Amarantha more jealous and vicious towards Feyre.

“Tamlin made out with Feyre instead of helping her”: He couldn’t help her run away. No one could do that. She would never make it, Amarantha would find her. In fact, Tamlin specifically could not help her in any way. He could only assure her he still wants and loves her. And she wanted that just as much. Rhys abused her physically, mentally, verbally, drugged her and much worse. And he enjoyed all of it. If he didn’t want to raise suspicions, he wouldn’t have placed a bet in her favour. Rhys is a sadist, SJM just decided to mellow him down in the next book so that we’d all like him over Tamlin.

“Tamlin ignored Feyre’s wishes and only wanted her to be his bride, he didn’t let her be High Lady”: Both Tamlin and Feyre were bad communicators going though trauma and Tam had a whole court to care for. Tamlin was unaware of how Feyre felt because she barely spoke up once. Rhys knew because he literally lived inside her head and had all the time in the world to focus his attention on her since his court suffered zero consequences during Amarantha’s reign. And Tamlin simply told her the truth: there’s no such thing as High Lady. Even her current title is given to her by Rhys, the magic of Prythian has not actually chosen her to be High Lady. The title and its power are decorative. And she said she didn’t want that anyway.

“Tamlin locks Feyre up and uses his magic to harm her”: He locks her in his humongous palace to keep her safe, after she just came back from the dead and his worst enemy is kidnapping her every month, while he runs off to protect his borders. Rhysand locks Feyre in a fucking bubble. Tamlin loses control of his magic. He doesn’t want to harm her. That’s not abuse. Abuse is intentional. Feyre and Rhysand lock Lucien and Nesta up. They lock the people of the Hewn City up in a cave. Feyre loses control of her magic and harms Lucien’s mother. Double standards I guess.

“Tamlin is a bad and conservative ruler”: Tamlin is such a beloved ruler that his sentries literally begged to die for him. Feyre had to fuck with their minds to finally turn them against him. They were his friends. He was so progressive that the lords fled his court once he became their ruler because he wouldn’t put up with their bullshit like his father did. He loved all of his people. He is against slavery. The Tithe was just tax collection. Rhysand practically rules over just one city, while ignoring Hewn City and Illyria. He treats 2/3 of his realm like shit and everyone except the residents of Velaris hates him. He collects tax, too, but we conveniently never see this. He ranks the members of his inner circle (my 1st, my 2nd etc.) and reminds them every moment that they are his slaves first and anything else second, while Tamlin treats them equally and even gives Lucien an official title by naming him Ambassador.

“Tamlin conspired with Hybern”: He was a double agent and his short lived alliance, two weeks all in all, not only didn’t harm a single soul, but ultimately saved all of Prythian as he was the only one who brought valuable information to that meeting. He dragged Beron to battle. Rhysand’s alliance with Amarantha harmed thousands and only helped save one city, Velaris.

“Tamlin is responsible for turning Nesta and Elain into Fae”: No, that was Ianthe, who got the info from Feyre. Tamlin was fooled by her, just as Feyre obviously was, or she wouldn’t have trusted her. Tamlin was disgusted by that act.

“Tamlin is less powerful than Rhysand”: Rhysand himself says that a battle between them would turn mountains to dust. Tamlin killed Rhysand’s dad, the previous High Lord of the Night Court, in one blow. He is just as powerful as Rhysand. SJM again just wants us to believe otherwise. And he is smarter, too. He was the only one not to trust Amarantha. And he was a good spy for Prythian against Hybern.

All of these takes are cold as fuck. SJM was testing the waters with ACOTAR and she made sure the main love interest, Tamlin, was insanely likeable, so that the book could be a satisfactory standalone story in case she couldn’t land a trilogy deal. She didn’t know it would be such a big hit. But once she realised she could turn this into a franchise, she had to figure out a new story to tell. She may claim otherwise, but there’s just too many plothotes to convince me. And in order to make her new main love interest seem like the best choice, she had to character assassinate the old one. There was no other way. ACOTAR Rhys was too much of an evil monster to be loved by the majority of the audience. But Tamlin was introduced to us as such a heroic and passionate man that is literally impossible to turn him into someone despised by all. Feyre’s relationship with Rhysand reads too much like cheating on Tamlin. That’s why anyone with basic analytical skills is able to realise the flaws of the narration.

[dogthemaverick]

Az's vet: yeah you need this, this, this and this. It'll cost roughly £££. Do you have insurance?

Me: sure I do but could I get a prescription? I work with [specific animal care branch] and can get the items and procedure there for free

Az's vet: .......... you know what? Never mind. Revert to her previous diet and monitor

[larcenywrites]

any headcanons about what dating logan/wolverine might be like? 👀

I can try 😮‍💨 just like with sabretooth, I worry I can’t properly capture him… but we can always dabble around with ideas!

Wolverine x Reader

Warnings: definitely has nsfw | one line does refer to reader being AFAB |

🍺 Sigh… the real question is, how are you going to get in a relationship with this man 😒

🍺 Never mind whether he’s still pining after Jean or not, the guy just refuses to commit 🙄 doesn’t matter if you’ve fucked or not.

🍺 But let’s skip that whole dramatic montage and say you did manage to finally tie him down just a little 🤏

🍺 It’s not like Logan doesn’t have fun or smile or know how to love! But when it comes to an actual bona fide relationship… it’s just harder to comfortably do those things. He’s lived a long time, been through nearly every type of trauma, hates himself for what he is half the time, and, while it hides well behind all that attitude, he’s afraid of a lot of things— from himself to the world.

🍺 So it makes it hard for him to love like that. Feelings are kinda hard for him to talk about 😔 at least, at first. Later on it gets easier, and while his tone may still be soft and gruff and he might sound reserved, but he won’t shy away from any sweet pillow talk anymore 🥺 though… any specific topics pertaining to a future… he’s probably a little more eager to switch to something else 😣

🍺 He’ll definitely be all growly if you start playing with his hair 😤 believe it or not, he’s a little particular about his grooming, and still a little funny about being unexpectedly touched at times— even by his partner.

🍺 But perhaps the real show of love here is the fact that he still won’t stop you 🥲

🍺 Usually the free time he has is spent fucking shit up in the danger room or drinking at his favorite spot, but he will actually take you on dates that don’t involve either! (But let’s be honest, it’s kinda hot to watch him tear shit up sometimes 😏)

🍺 It’s canon that Logan enjoys some broadway musicals! And while it’s not its favorite thing to have to do, he can dress up quite nice 😘

🍺 Actually a horndog 😮‍💨 For a guy that’s always going on about controlling his raging animal or whatever, he sure doesn’t have much control when his sexual partner even looks at him the wrong way 🙄 Maybe it’s all the energy he can never quite get out, or maybe it’s because he goes without for a while at a time, but definitely don’t be surprised when, upon finally getting to share his bed, you don’t get very much sleep 😘

🍺 Unfortunately(?) the dude can smell horniness, which will get him going no matter what his current situation is 🤭

🍺 I know this man eats pussy like nobody’s business 🥴 literally pouncing on you 🥴 maybe a rather hard bite to your thigh before just literally diving in, but otherwise probably won’t do much foreplay, especially nothing all loving and sweet.

🍺 Surprisingly a cuddler? But not, like, when you do it :/ a selective cuddler, we’ll call him. He’ll roll over and trap you in a bear hug 🥰 but no matter if you are taller or shorter than him, he’s gonna be face planted in your shoulder blades

🍺 one of those people that will not be little spoon 😒😒😒😒😒 you might get away with it if you catch him already in bed and you just crawl on top of him and wrap around him 🤭

🍺 but he’s definitely a sucker for having you lie on his chest 🥺🥺🥺🥺 he’ll probably sigh as if you’re bothering him, but it’s kinda like that thing dogs do when they get comfy and sigh loudly 🥰

🍺 it’s counterintuitive, but tbh the more you shower him with love the more he low key hates himself… but he still definitely enjoys it! He actually does love to be loved! A little shy about it, though.

🍺 don’t be afraid to kiss his hand right where his claws come out 😘

🍺 not necessarily jealous as much as he is protective…

🍺 well, he does get a little possessive…

🍺 sometimes might be petty af if you try to come into bed smelling like someone who’s pissed him off that day (many people piss him off every day)

🍺 like it’s not your fault you were in the same general area as Cyclops for longer than ten minutes and Wolfie over here can smell that 😒

🍺 When he’s done throwing his pity party, though, you get way-too-tight cuddles though so it’s a win? How else are you supposed to smell like him again?

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 2

<-former chapter ~ AO3 link ~ next chapter-> I will block any ageless blogs. Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 6181.

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

Author's note: reminder that reader is kinda a bitch at some points, thinking mean, unjustified things about our 141 once in a while. Unreliable narrators, my sinner. Apologies for any grammatical errors , the bad russian and such. So uh, this got waaay longer than intended so here you go. It will be a couple of days before the next chapter, so enjoy this snack for u all, my sinners.

chapter 2: Delivery from the Hybrid's Den!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“I have a friend coming over for a while,” John softly said next morning, hand resting on your head, fingers stroking your long ears now and again,, “to help us with getting the boys settled.”

You were on the floor, half way beneath the kitchen table, snuggled up against Price’s leg, feeling much more needy, knowing the ‘boys’ as your owner called them, would be delivered later today or tomorrow. They needed to be chipped and Price had asked for a full health check from his vet, as well as vaccinations and dental care. John was a caring owner; the mere fact that he did this from the get go was proof of that. He had done the same when getting you, made sure that any recent wounds or scarring were taken care of - getting your teeth fixed and your nails checked.

You didn’t have much of your fangs left when he got you; your earlier owners had taken those, the memories still haunting you once in a while. They had done it without anesthesia, not even by professionals. Same with your claws, that wasn’t beneath your nails anymore, thanks to former owners as well. Price had gotten the wounds cleaned and fixed up; they had almost grown closed by now. For most of the time that you lived with John, he had made sure your nails were always done nicely, however you wanted them.

John was a good master. You loved him, more than you knew you should, desperate for his attention, acknowledgment and praise. You didn’t want to share him, not with these hounds he had decided to get…

… not with this apparent friend.

You didn’t answer with anything but a displeased sound, tightening your grip on Price’s pants; when he offered you another piece of sausage you were quick to eat it, licking at his fingers while he chuckled. For a moment your tail wagged, eating the food and pressing against his hand.

He couldn’t be serious - abruptly changing so many things? and you were just supposed to accept it? Finally, you replied.

“Do I know your friend?” You didn’t bother to seem excited in any way, your skepticism seeping into your voice like poison. Price took another sip of his tea, not commenting on it.

“You’ve met him before but it’s been years. First year I had you, I reckon. Remember Nikolai?” 

Nikolai. Nikolai. Different faces flashed for your eyes, trying to pinpoint who you had met that bore that name. 

“No,” you finally admitted.

“Can’t blame you, lass. You were a little mess when you met him.”

You let out a huff at his words, embarrassment making your toes curl. It was true, your mind was muddled when it came to the first half year or so together with Price. You had been wary of every single person, desperately acting out and having to wear a muzzle, slowly getting used to the gentleness and rules of John. How he was fair and didn’t change his rules, didn’t punish you without reason.

You heard the front door open, ears peeking up a little, a small bark leaving you on instinct.

“‘Morning,” Laswell called out, making you settle again with a huff. While Laswell was strict and sometimes a meanie, she wasn’t a threat. Only to you and John’s private time.

“Good morning,” John called out, “I’ve made coffee.”

“Ugh if I wasn’t a lesbian I would marry you,” Kate groaned happily, by now so comfortable with John that she simply moved to take a cup in the cupboard, helping herself to the coffee and some food. They had known each other when younger, that was all you knew. Their stories always changed when you asked.

“Morning puppy,” she greeted, leaning over to give you a small pat that you leaned into, tail wagging once more, “are you going to misbehave again today?”

“Hopefully not,” John hummed, picking up his tea cup once more, “Nikolai is arriving in a couple of hours.”

“Ah, your old crush,” Laswell mused happily as she sat down across the table, once again making you wonder how long they had known each other, “going to pull yourself together this time?”

Wait. Crush… crush? Your head whipped up to look at your owner and oh fucking hell, John fucking Price was blushing. You huffed, clearly not pleased at all with this new knowledge.

Wonderful, wasn’t that just fucking wonderful? Now he was going to abandon you fully, to run around being a lovesick puppy and playing with the new hybrids.

“Don’t tease me,” John answered, clearly embarrassed, a rare sight indeed, “that’s none of your business.”

Kate just laughed. You let out a grumble, trying to snuggle even closer to Price, practically clinging to his leg by now. Price returned his hand to your head, petting you once more, looking down at you. You returned his gaze, doing your best puppy eyes, letting out a little whine. He smiled at you, his other hand scratching you beneath your chin.

“It’s been years,” he mused and you were pretty sure that he wasn’t even talking to you, “he had to return to Russia. His mother passed away.”

Russia? A memory appeared in your mind. A small party. Champagne, treats. Praise from Price’s friends and colleagues, attention and love that you had basked in. Other hybrids that sent you longing and lustful looks. A tall, broad man with a loud laugh and a strong accent. Wearing a gold chain. Long hair, rough hands when he scratched you. He would almost make your owner shy with his teasing but he would shower you in love.

“Did I meet him at a party once?” You asked, “big guy, strong accent ? Wearing a gold chain?”

John laughed, “yes, that would indeed be Nikolai.”

Huh. It was not much you could remember about him. You remembered liking him, but despite that, you weren’t really interested in him getting here.

“He is going to help with Soap, Ghost and Gaz,” John then said, almost as if to convince himself that was why he was here. You rolled your eyes at their names. Not that you had any say, you were usually just called different pet names, but you no longer bore the name your mother had once given you. It wasn’t unusual for pets to get their names changed with every new owner. Your legal hybrid name, with John, was Daisy, even though the man rarely ever called you that. He called you so many other names, Princess, Darling, Sweetheart, Birdie and so on. But apparently he had decided not to change these working dogs’ names.

“Sure,” Kate answered with amusement in her voice, taking another sip of the coffee before adding, “whatever you say.”

Price didn’t answer with anything but an annoyed grumble.

“Those are stupid names,” you muttered. A sharp tug on your ear made you yelp, one of your hands grabbing onto his wrist to get him to let go of your furry ear. 

“Be nice, Princess. You’re going to behave, am I understood?” You didn’t meet his eyes, a little whine merely escaped from you.

“She just needs to be shown her place,” Laswell carefully said, John not letting go of your ear, much to your dismay, but he didn’t tug on it - just kept it there as a warning, “maybe they’re better at that.”

“Hopefully they’ll be better at it than me,” he muttered and you whined - the grip didn’t loosen and he didn’t look down at you.

“Nikolai is going to help with that too?” 

“He had ideas, at least.”

Fucking wonderful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nikolai was the first of the four men that you already hated, to arrive. 

You stayed inside the house, watching John appear from one of the stables, almost lighting up at the sight of the man who exited the car.

He still looked like the old memory you had of him; big, long black hair and a grin on his face. He was taller than John but not by much, Almost seeming completely opposite to your owner. While John wore working clothes, a grey T-shirt beneath his blue flannel, dirt on his pants, Nikolai was wearing a pair of blue jeans, white T-shirt and leather jacket.

Even inside the house, you could hear the booming man that was Nikolai - he greeted your owner with a loud “John!”, before hugging him, even spinning him around. You couldn’t help but stare; John was far from small but the other man had swung him around like he had been a teenage girl. 

John was blushing like one too. The sight made you curious - just like you wondered how he and Kate met, you wondered how this Nikolai met your owner.

You couldn’t help but wag your tail at how happy they looked. Despite how you hated the idea of the man staying here, even just for a little while, you liked seeing John happy like this.

Then two pairs of eyes suddenly looked directly into the window, both staring at you. It made your ears tip back a little. Your tail kept wagging, eating up the attention. 

When they moved, you moved too - rushing towards the entrance, stopping in the doorframe to the living room. 

“My my, if it isn’t the famous puppy,” Nikolai mused, his Russian accent strong, eyes almost twinkling as he looked you up and down, “up to trouble, da?”

You huffed, crossing your arms, though you felt your tail betray you by wagging a little, “I’m never up to trouble.”

Both of the men laughed, making you growl a little. 

“Unruly - just like last time I met you!” Nikolai mused, looking over at John by his side, “you gave up on training?”

John shook his head, “don’t even get me started, mate.”

“You told enough over phone,” Nikolai answered, waving his hand at John while pushing his shoes off with his feet.

Ah. So he had talked about you with Nikolai already? The fact made you scrunch your nose a little. Maybe Nikolai was just as stupid as John when it came to realizing why you were upset.

Nikolai stepped into your personal sphere with no warning, almost backing you up against the door frame, making you panic and growl a little. Tail no longer wagging - you could see John tense up in the corner of your eye, but you were too distracted by the stranger.

“Nik—“

A part of you expected him to hit you - you had met plenty of strangers with your former owners, who didn’t even let you sniff their hand or anything. Some hurting you and —

He offered his hand. It didn’t hit you, but raised to your nose instead. You squinted at him, before taking a couple of sniffs, still not quite sure what to make of him.

“Don’t like you,” you growled in warning, showing your teeth a little, not even attempting to be polite. 

“You don’t like farm life yet, puppy?” He asked, tipping his head to the side, voice demeaning, stupid smile still on his face. You wanted to slap it off his face. “Stupid little puppy.”

Instead you chomped down on his hand, Price instantly scolding out your name, moving to drag you away. But Nikolai didn’t even flinch - didn't move besides laughing again. 

It made both you and John confused.

“If you want to hurt me, you would have to bite harder, Princess,” Nikolai crooned, “now let go.”

You wanted to piss in his shoes and rip his socks to pieces. Maybe scratch up that leather jacket of his. Yet you found yourself letting go of him, your teeth barely even having made a dent in his skin.

“Get your ass into your room,” John hissed, a redness in his skin that you weren’t sure came from embarrassment or anger from your action.

“No harm done, John,” Nikolai laughed; he scratched you behind your right ear, just a tad to the left and it was like your brain melted for a couple of seconds, your body reacted on its own, tail wagging and right leg moving as well, “she just attempt to be dangerous no?”

John let out a small sound that you weren’t sure  what to make of before he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you away from Nikolai, “and that’s the kind of behaviour I don’t want.”

“He was being mean,” you whined in self defense, unable to not follow the hand dragging you into the living room, “he almost dared me to!”

Perhaps an overstatement, but you already knew what was going to happen the moment that Price pushed you over the armrest of the couch, “I bit him to defend myself!”

“You will not, and I repeat myself, not bite my guests,” he pulled up your skirt and down your panties with such a quick movement that you didn’t get to point out that you didn’t care, one hand grabbing your tail; his other hand collided with your ass cheeks, once, twice and then a third time, before he snapped out, “got it?”

A defiant bark left you, because while you knew it was bad behavior, you also wanted to prove that you weren’t afraid of this Nikolai. You twisted a little, knowing your ass and pussy was basically on display for both men. 

The grip on your tail tightened making you cringe with pain, jaw tensing.

“Apologise.”

You shook your head in defiance, ears hitting your face. Price leant over you a little, hissing out, “I would advise you to apologize, princess. Now.”

A part of you knew he was upset because he liked Nikolai. If he actually had feelings for him, as Kate had pointed out and several things pointed towards, you knew he wouldn’t like being embarrassed too much. Your ass still stung a little.

You were the actual victim here, weren’t you? It wasn’t your fault he decided to change everything you loved and then accept that he had his lost love over, who immediately tried to push your buttons.

“‘m sorry,” you mumbled after two seconds.

“Louder.” John demanded, straightening up, so that you were no longer hidden.

"I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment - then the sound of a lighter and as you dared to glance over at the bigger man, who was leaning against the door frame, you saw him staring right back at you, a lit cigarette now between his lips.

“Is okay, Lapochka.” He said, stupid smile still on his face.

With that John finally let go off your tail, pulling up your underwear and your skirt down, ignoring your whine. He didn’t even touch your pussy! Didn’t even give you some love!

You pouted as you looked over at them, sliding down from the armrest of the couch, hands going beneath your skirt to rest against your warm skin on your cheeks.

“Sorry Nik,” John once again apologized - as if it was him who John had just spanked! The audacity! You let out a little displeased bark.

“She usually doesn’t bite people,” he continued as he ushered Nikolai as if you weren’t right there, needing love and attention.

“Is okay,” Nikolai answered with a shrug, casting one last glance over at you, smirking for just a second, “some of it was my fault - wanted to see what she would do.”

Asshole.

“Room, princess - now.”

“But he literally ju—“

“I said now.”

“You’re being so fucking mea—“

“Crate then.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You might have slammed the door to your room, growling as you plopped down on your big fuzzy dog bed. 

It was about 30 minutes later than you dared to wander from the room to the kitchen again, standing in the doorway, watching the two men talk. Eyes moved to watch you again, as you whined and got on your knees. crawling to the two men, shamefully settling between Price’s legs on your knees - tail carefully wagging, sending your owner a pitiful glance.

“‘m sorry,” you whimpered, knowing John was easy to sweeten up, “‘m sorry, sir.”

A hand moved down to scratch you, though it wasn’t John’s-  you carefully licked his hand, a pleased rumble leaving the guest.

“Smart one,” he muttered, giving your cheek a little pinch, “knows how to be sweet, da?”

“Always,” John answered, looking down at you with his usual loving eyes, “soft lass is hard  to stay mad at.”

“Perhaps you need some more company,” Nikolai pointed out, “I worked with military pets before, they’re much different than you, milaya.”

“We don’t need them,” you whined, having no idea what Nikolai had just called you, “John will forget about me, will be too busy, he –”

John’s foot ever so gently pushed against your stomach, “don’t start that again.”

“Just insecure,” Nikolai suggested, making you huff.

“Am not,” you argued, but you still nuzzled closer to John, starting to move your hands to his inner thighs, moving to look up the best you could, looking from under the edge of the table, sweetening your voice a little, “It’s just a mistake, that’s all.”

“Spoiled, that’s what you are, darling,” John pointed out, but he still reached out to gently pat your head, “however, the boys will be here in a couple of hours and there is nothing you can do about it.”

You whined pitifully at his words, upset that your clear dissatisfaction with them joining the farm wasn’t clear. It was like John didn’t want to realize at all that he didn’t need to stay out on this farm. He needed to go back to the city, to the fancy penthouse apartment, to the parties that lasted out to the late hours of the night, where you could gossip with all the other hybrids.

“Milaya,” Nikolai repeated again, rustling with something in his jacket that hung over the back of the chair he was currently sitting on, pulling a little package from it. You watched curiously, though trying to seem disinterested. That was until he opened it and the most wonderful, mouthwatering scent you had smelled in a while appeared and you instantly moved from between John’s legs to Nikolai’s, making your owner chuckle.

The piece of jerky looking meat that Nikolai held in between his thumb and pointer finger, looked simple but oh the smell of it made it known that it was good.

“You behave and let us look through papers now, da?” 

“Yes,” you said, unable to look away or stop your tail from wagging, “I’ll behave.” 

The moment Nikolai offered you the piece, you were on it, barely missing his fingers with your teeth as you stole it from his grip. Nikolai was chuckling, putting the bag back into his jacket, while you chewed, a pleased moan leaving you as you settled beneath the table. 

Hopefully these mutts would prove themselves too difficult - so that John would send them away again. You would happily wave goodbye to them. 

With the sweet aftertaste of the meat in your mouth and their soft voices discussing fences, you closed your eyes.

You weren’t going to help with the pack settling in - that was for sure.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You barely got used to your owner’s crush, before there were once again new things happening. Kate appeared, greeting Nikolai like an old friend as well. You hadn’t figured out much about the man, other than he had worked with a lot of hybrids throughout the years. And with helicopters. However that all fit together, you didn’t know… didn’t really care.

The big truck that arrived a couple of hours later, stood out against the farm houses; a colorful logo was painted on the otherwise steel gray vehicle.

THE HYBRID’S DEN! helping owners find their perfect hybrid pet since 1960!

You remembered seeing their logos everywhere when you were sold to the auction, years ago. The auction houses and facilities had often felt like an intermission from your former life to your new; never knowing what was going to happen, treated with the minimal care, but kept healthy enough for the auctions. 

The staff wore the colorful logo on their black uniforms, exciting the truck a few moments later. You almost wanted to tell them to ‘get the fuck back into that truck and drive off’ again, but you figured it wouldn’t result in them actually doing so.

You kept your distance, standing on the steps of the front door - strategically keeping Nikolai between you and the closed metal crates that were inside the truck. There were nothing more than a few air holes in the boxes, from where some different sounds appeared. Barks and a growl or two, though they all sounded a little slurred. Nikolai moved, giving you a better look at them, as he joined John who was nodding along to some of the information, while looking through and signing some papers. Though you were mostly distracted by the crates, you could hear some of their conversation, catching words like sedated, muzzles, stressed. Your own trip hadn’t been nice either but a part of you wanted to point out to your owner that this only proved your point of this being a bad idea.

Some of the auction workers helped move the crates to one of the bigger empty sheds that Price had apparently been renovating without your knowledge. So apparently not so empty any longer. Not that it had been hard to do that, you ignored most of the different renovating and building jobs that both John and the helpers did.

Still… he could have told you. God, did your master tell you nothing anymore? It didn’t really help your mood, your growing annoyance clearly amusing for Nikolai if his smiles back at you were anything to go by.

Despite your repeated frustration with this entire situation and these new hybrids’ mere existence, you followed along inside the shed. It was nice… Isolated, with a tiny bathroom, an area padded with mattresses, which was clearly for them to sleep together, pillows, blankets… you wanted that too. Sure, you had loads, but this only made you want more, want more from Price, so that he could prove he still loved you. 

There was a radiator, several windows, lamps and electricity outlets. You scrunch your nose with displeasure. They didn’t deserve that. At least they weren’t inside the main house. 

There was a little notch in the other corner opposite the bed area, almost like a tiny expansion, another door next to it; it was almost like a small horse stall - a deep layer of hay covered the floor. You didn’t even step into the place, but you knew the hay would itch.

You wanted it. Not the itching of the hay, but the entire place, simply for the sake of having it, so that they couldn’t. Speaking of them, you watched from the main entrance as the metal boxes were opened.

The Belgian malinois and German Shepherd mix was the first one to stumble out of the box; he fell two steps later, directly into the hay, a deep sigh leaving him, eyes darting around. You could barely see him from the amount of people inside the stall. 

“It’s alright, Gaz,” Price comforted, while you stayed in the door, keeping his distance to the hybrid, “You’re okay, boy.”

Gaz didn’t answer, just panted a little, ears tipped backwards - his eyes looked a little blown from what you could see.

“When will the sedatives wear off?” Laswell asked one of the workers, but you didn’t look at them, eyes instead at the other hybrid. 

When you had arrived, you had been scared and angry, drugged as well. But you had been alone. While you grew up with your parents, in a nice enough place, you hadn’t seen them for years - and while you had befriended a lot of other hybrids throughout the years, you had never been a part of a “pack”. You were alone — but this Gaz wasn’t and a part of you envied him, even for that.

“In an hour or two,” the worker replied, pulling you from your deeper thoughts, “they weren’t too happy to settle down before we left. It was necessary.”

A small bark left the man in the hay. It was answered by the two other hybrids, who still hadn’t come out of their respective boxes. Nikolai gently tapped on the top of one of the boxes with a knuckle.

“Come join your friend,” the Russian suggested, voice not as loud as earlier.

A moment later the border collie mix, Soap, crawled out of his box, eyes instantly on Gaz, letting himself lay halfway on top of the other. A little growl leaving him, muffled from behind the mask. Not even a second later, Ghost got out of the last crate. The Great Pyrenees almost got on his legs, growling despite the muzzle and swaying from the drugs.

You watched the staff pull back the metal boxes, letting the hybrids get some space. Ghost didn’t stay on his legs for too long, eventually sitting down next to his pack mates, the lower half of his face hidden from view as he looked around the shed.

His gaze stopped at you; you were unable to sense the reaction from seeing you again, if there even was any.

“We’ll let you have some minutes, okay? Then we’ll take the muzzles off.” John gently offered, pulling the giant from the moment, so that he looked away, giving Price a small nod. Your owner was at the edge of the hay filled area but he didn’t step into it.

You stepped back, letting the staff members from the auction pull away the boxes, Laswell and another farm worker helping them. Nikolai looked from the pack, then over his shoulder at you, barely even trying to hide a smile.

Then he winked. You sent him an unimpressed look back, tipping your chin up a little, looking away from the three hybrids in the hay, pretending you weren’t curious about them.

Some more rustling in the hay and then a half croaked, “mah held hurts,” left Soap, voice a little slurred - you couldn’t help but look over at him. His accent was weird. His ears were tipped down, some hay already stuck in his hair. With the pathetic look on his face you didn’t understand how he was supposed to be a big bad soldier.

You weren’t being petty at all.

“It’s the sedatives,” John calmly answered the hybrid, who let out a big breath from behind the muzzle.

“If I take the muzzle off, will you behave?”

“We have water for you,” Nikolai added, keeping his distance - you kept him in between you and the dogs, not risking anything. You trusted the men to be able to defend themselves. But with no claws or fangs, you weren’t a fighter - more a runner. Even if you didn’t like running.

The two muzzled ones, Soap and Ghost, sent each other a look - but it was Gaz, half hidden beneath Soap, who let out a tired “please.”

Ghost gave a small nod then. John stepped into the hay, unhurried as to not spook them, and it was Ghost who tipped his head down first to let Price open the lock with a small key. The moment he was free, he smacked his cracked and dry looking lips. 

Clearly, the man had never heard of chapstick.

Though, much more apparent, where the colony of scars on his lower half of the face. Trailing from around the lips, one over the nose as well - cheeks and chin. As he smacked his lips, you saw he had lost a fang in the bottom of his mouth. It wasn’t just sanded down like yours, the tooth was fully missing.

Price repeated the action with Soap, the hybrid instantly opening his mouth wide with a yawn, his jaw even making a popping wound.

Nikolai appeared with three bottles of water from a little cooler in the shed - you didn’t have your own cooler, which meant you would be demanding one… not that you needed it but still — giving the hybrids each one, that was always immediately opened. Gaz pushed Soap away and sat up too, while John backed away.

“My name is John Price -we met shortly at the auction. I’m the owner of the farm and you will all answer to me. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” For a moment you were impressed with the three hybrids’ synchronized answers. Only a short moment however. They were probably just beasts trained to answer like that. Yeah, yeah, you could do that too, if you wanted. But you didn’t.

“This is Nikolai, my friend, he will stay with me for a while, helping you all to settle in properly. You will follow his orders too - as well as a mean looking woman, Kate Laswell, who will appear at some point.” Humour tipped into the last part making Soap snort and Gaz give out a half-slurred giggle, while Ghost just let out a grunt.

“And this,” Price suddenly turned over to you, looking a little amused from the distance you kept between all of them, “is my pet, Daisy.” 

“Well hellooo, bonnie lass,” Soap said, his tail immediately wagging, grinning at you, as he slurred, “aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes.”

Nikolai and John dared to laugh at his words, his rather pathetic attempt at being charming, while you growled, watching Soap get an elbow in the side from Gaz, while Simon just stared, almost differently than the scot, like a hungry beast. If you were fully inside the shed, you might be able to smell if they were turned on. Disgusting. 

“Come’ere, sweetheart,” John crooned, clearly pleased with the reactions from the men, while you scrunch your nose, tipping your chin up a little - giving it a shake to reject the command.

“Do not be like that, milaya,” Nikolai suggested, “thought you were going to behave, no?”

You just growled a little again, unable to help your tail go between your legs a little; you didn’t really want to be spanked again, but you didn’t really want to become acquainted with these hybrids either.

“My princess isn’t too pleased with you lot being here,” John calmly explained without taking his eyes off you - they were still all staring at you - as John raised a hand, making a ‘come-hither’ motion that had you swallowing some spit, “but she isn’t going to chase away any wolves, are ye, pet?”

You huffed, crossing your arms before stepping inside the shed. The scent in there was nice and clean, even with the vague scent of the newcomers, and you walked to John, stopping halfway hidden by him.

However, as John’s arm snaked around your soft waist in a strong grip, you whimpered as you were pulled forward a little, unable to hide behind him. Both Gaz and Soap were wagging their tails at you, while you tried ignoring the scent of the room the best you can.

“I’m expecting you all to get along - and not hurt each other too badly, understood?”

While the others answered in agreement you just hid your face in his shoulder, twisting a little in his grip.

“No playin’ too rough,” Nikolai added, “Puppy isn’t used to other hybrids.”

“I am!” you snapped, “Just not…”

The shed was quiet for a moment as you mulled over your next words. What to call them. Military dogs. Strays. Mutts, un –

“Not what?” Nikolai almost seemed entertained by your declaration and you looked away, before finally mumbling.

“... working dogs.”

Simon huffed. You shot him a sharp look that he didn’t really seem to be affected by, in any way.

“I’m sure you all will get along,” John just mused, before looking down at his watch, “A certain princess has become too bored now we’re no longer in the city -” he ignored your mutter of ‘have not’, “- and I can’t entertain her all the time. Mentally or sexually.” 

You whined with embarrassment, a little angry growl seeping into it, but Price didn’t really react, barely moved as you twisted in his grip, ignoring the grin of the several males in the house. 

“ - Now, I will leave you three to get acclimated a little. But, there are a couple of rules that I expect you all to follow, if not there will be punishments.”

Synchronized nods. You still twisted, digging your fingers into his arm to no avail - then a hand snagged onto your collar from behind, choking you shortly as you were pulled back, Nikolai pressing against your back. Now free, Price pointed to a little map over the area, that you hadn’t noticed on the wall.

“Your jobs will essentially be to help keep the place safe. We have had problems with wolves and foxes, and so has the neighbors, since there lives a bunch in the area. You three will help keeping them away and Soap will help around my sheeps and goats in particular, given you’re a herding dog–”

Soap nodded, tail wagging, all three dogs staring at the map intensely.

“- I will find other things for the two of you to help with as well, but your main focus will be on keeping the animals - and the rest of us - safe. One of the neighbors got some horses stolen not too long ago. I would like to avoid that as well.”

You didn’t even know that. What you did know, however, was the heat of Nikolai’s body behind you, keeping you close and tethered so that you couldn’t run off.

“Most of the wildlife will go away if intimidated, but at times you might need to attack them. I am not going to give you any firearms yet though,” John looked over at them, his voice  firmer than you usually heard it, “That will come along the way, if needed. We can discuss other weapons later on.”

The mere idea of John giving them any kinds of weapon made you want to throw up - or throw a fit. Had he gone fuckin’ mad?? giving them guns? They were going to shoot everyone, going to kill John and you. You really didn’t want to die.

“My farm includes these - and these fields. You will not and I repeat not, leave my land without a valid reason. There will be punishments if you do - you will all be given collars like another certain puppy–” all eyes watched you for a moment and though, you wanted to hide  your face in your hands, you didn’t, merely crossed your arms, ignoring the low laughter from Nikolai behind you, “that are fitted with trackers, so I will know if you do.”

Great. So hoping for them to run off wasn’t a possibility for now.

“Biting or attacking my staff in any way will result in severe punishments. You will lose privileges if you don’t do as told, without a valid reason. Is that understood?”

“Yessir.” 

“Good boys. Now, these upcoming days you will most likely be following me or Laswell around, while we get you in on all these. All dinners will be eaten in the main house and you will be given keys once I get them made one of these upcoming days. I will give you a couple of hours now –” Price looked down at his wrist watch, “Then call you in, an hour or two before dinner, so that you all can shower. Any injuries, allergies or anything that the Hybrids’ Den didn’t write down, that I need to know?”

They all shook their heads, behaving like synchronized swimmers in your opinion. 

“Good. You’re all free to relax here or explore the farm if you wish so, when the drugs wear off.” 

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

As you entered the farm house, you shrugged off your jacket and abandoned your shoes in the entrance, not caring to clean up after you, ignoring John’s irked huff.

“Insane!” you declared, walking further into the house, “You’ve gone insane! You’re all going to forget about me and those horny knotted mutts will be all up in my business!”

You flopped down on the couch, face first, continuing your ranting into the fabric.

“I might as well barricade myself inside my room - Because I dont have a tiny house!! but guns! SURE ! give them guns!” Your voice was muffled, but you were, perhaps a tad dramatically, loud in your ranting. You could just make out whispering between the two men but you didn’t care… not until you were forced to, quite literally.

“Little puppy,” Nikolai’s accent was heavy - his body even heavier as he settled on the back of your thighs, a fist coming to rest next to your head, that kept his full body weight from you, “Throwing a fit again, da?” 

You could feel the slight bulge against your fat ass, making you swallow - and tail wag, hitting Nikolai against the thighs, making the man chuckle. John as well, who settled down with a cigar in one of the arm chairs opposite the couch. You didn’t even need to look to know that he watched as Nikolai tugged at your skirt.

[p0orbaby]

Spark Enough and Something Catches

summary: about how you’re guard is firmly up, until alexia comes into your life

warnings: soft sex but nothing explicit, past trauma

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 2.2k

-

You’ve never trusted a footballer before. Or a soccer player. Whatever people want to call it. The first time you meet Alexia Putellas, she’s all legs and sharp cheekbones, like someone engineered her in a lab. You meet her at a party you didn’t want to go to, dragged along by a friend who swears that this one will be fun. A lie. It’s full of people who own tiny dogs and use the word “network” as a verb.

She’s there because she knows someone who knows someone. A friend of a friend of a cousin. There’s a lot of loud talking, loud music, loud everything. You’re not loud. You’re a suspicious introvert with a knack for reading people, and you don’t like what you see—except for Alexia, standing in the corner, awkwardly holding a drink that’s too small for her hands. She catches your eye, and that’s it. A quirk of fate, the universe playing a practical joke.

It takes her a while to approach you because she’s Alexia Putellas, and you’re wearing that expression that says, “Do not approach me.” So she doesn’t. Not right away. She takes her time, watches you from across the room, which you find creepy until she finally makes her move.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” she says.

You shrug. “I’d rather be anywhere else”

She laughs, and you think, Oh no. This one has a nice laugh. This is a problem.

You’re not great with people. You like cats. Maybe dogs. But people? Too complicated. Too many feelings. You’ve built a wall around yourself, and it’s made of titanium and bad experiences. Your exes didn’t leave you with much except a distaste for small talk and an obsession with collecting weird anecdotes.

“So,” she says, and you can tell she’s trying. “Do you like football?”

“Not really,” you say, because it’s true. You’ve never been one for organised sports. The idea of running around after a ball while people yell at you seems absurd. Alexia blinks, and you wonder if you’ve blown it before it even begins. “But I’m open to persuasion”

Another laugh. Okay, maybe you haven’t blown it.

You spend the rest of the evening chatting. Or rather, she chats, and you respond in monosyllables, because that’s how you protect yourself. She’s patient, though. She waits for you to say something more, something real. You don’t give it to her, not yet.

You don’t think you’ll ever see her again. But then you do, because she asks for your number, and like an idiot, you give it to her. What’s the harm? It’s just a number. A number’s not a promise.

She texts you the next day, something simple. “Hey, want to grab coffee?”

You think about ignoring it. It’s what you usually do. But you don’t. You say yes. You go for coffee. It’s awkward, at first. You’re not used to letting people in. You’re used to hiding behind sarcasm and deadpan humour. But Alexia? She’s disarming. She’s earnest in a way that’s almost annoying. But she’s also funny. Really funny. And smart. She listens when you talk, really listens, which is unnerving.

-

This goes on for weeks. Texts, coffee, dinner. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to lose interest or realise you’re not worth the effort. But she doesn’t. She keeps showing up, keeps asking you about your day, keeps making you laugh with stories about her teammates. You start to let your guard down, inch by inch, like a dog coming out of its shell after too many years in the kennels.

One night, you’re at her place, a cozy little flat that’s much too neat for someone who’s always on the go. She’s cooking dinner, and you’re sitting at the counter, watching her move around the kitchen with the kind of grace that only comes from years of training. She catches you staring, and you look away, but not fast enough.

“What?” she asks, grinning.

“Nothing,” you say, because how do you explain that you’re still trying to figure her out? Still trying to understand why someone like her would be interested in someone like you.

She doesn’t push. She never pushes. That’s one of the things you like about her. But it’s also frustrating, because sometimes you want her to push. To break through the last of your defenses and force you to confront whatever it is you’re afraid of.

You eat dinner, and it’s delicious because of course she’s a great cook. She’s good at everything, which should make you hate her, but it doesn’t. It just makes you like her more. You’re screwed.

After dinner, you’re both on the sofa, watching some movie you picked out, a quirky indie film that’s more weird than entertaining. You’re not really paying attention. You’re too aware of her, sitting next to you, close but not too close, her hand resting on the cushion between you.

Halfway through the movie, she pauses it, turns to you. “Can I ask you something?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure”

“Why do you keep me at arm’s length?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, and it takes you a moment to respond. “I don’t”

“You do,” she says, and there’s no accusation in her voice, just curiosity. “It’s like you’re afraid to let me in”

You shrug, trying to play it off, but you know she’s right. “Maybe I am”

“Why?”

You don’t answer right away. You’ve never talked about this with anyone, not even yourself. But she’s looking at you with those eyes, those stupidly kind eyes, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“Because people leave,” you say, and it sounds so melodramatic that you almost cringe. But it’s true. People leave. They get bored, or they find someone better, or they just decide you’re not worth the effort anymore. And you’re left picking up the pieces, trying to pretend like it doesn’t hurt when it does. Every time.

Alexia doesn’t say anything for a long time. She just looks at you, really looks at you, and you feel like she’s seeing every cracked piece of you, every scar and wound you’ve tried to hide. It’s terrifying.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, finally. “Unless you want me to”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you don’t. You just sit there, staring at the TV screen, which is frozen on a scene that doesn’t make sense out of context.

She reaches out, slowly, like she’s afraid you’ll bolt if she moves too fast. Her hand rests on yours, and you tense up, but you don’t pull away. You can feel her warmth, the softness of her skin against yours. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like a big deal, like something significant is happening.

You take a deep breath, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn to face her. “I’m scared,” you admit, and your voice is barely above a whisper.

She smiles, just a little. “So am I”

That surprises you. “Why?”

“Because you’re important to me,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I don’t want to mess this up”

You laugh, a short, incredulous laugh. “I’m the one who’s going to mess this up”

“I don’t think so,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that makes you believe her.

The moment stretches out, and you know this is it. This is the moment when you decide whether to keep running or to let yourself be caught. You’re tired of running. Tired of being scared. So you lean in, just a little, and she meets you halfway. Her lips are soft against yours, tentative at first, like she’s giving you a chance to change your mind. But you don’t.

The kiss deepens, and you lose yourself in it, in the feel of her, the taste of her. It’s like nothing else exists, just the two of you, and for once, you’re not thinking about what comes next, or what could go wrong. You’re just here, in this moment, and it’s perfect.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing a little harder, and there’s a flush in her cheeks that makes her look even more beautiful, if that’s possible. You don’t say anything, because what is there to say? Words aren’t enough for this.

She doesn’t push you for more, doesn’t try to take things further. She just holds you, her arms wrapped around you in a way that makes you feel safe, like nothing can hurt you as long as she’s here.

And maybe that’s true. Maybe, for once, you’ve found someone who won’t leave. Someone who sees you, really sees you, and thinks you’re worth the effort.

It’s terrifying. But it’s also wonderful.

You don’t sleep together that night. You’re not ready, and she understands that. Instead, you fall asleep in her arms, her steady heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace you haven’t felt in years.

-

In the morning, you wake up to find her watching you, a soft smile on her lips. You’re not a morning person, but somehow, with her, it’s different. You don’t mind waking up early if it means seeing her like this, all warm and soft and a little messy.

“Morning,” she says, her voice husky from sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, and it’s the first time in a long time that the word doesn’t feel like a lie.

She kisses you again, slow and sweet, and you melt into it, your body relaxing in a way that feels foreign but good. Really good.

You spend the day together, doing nothing and everything. You talk, you laugh, you kiss some more. There’s no pressure, no rush. Just the two of you, figuring things out at your own pace.

It’s weeks later when you finally decide you’re ready. It happens naturally, one moment leading to the next, until you’re both in her bed, the room filled with the soft glow of the bedside lamp. You’re nervous, but she’s patient, taking her time, making sure you’re comfortable every step of the way.

It’s soft and sweet and a little awkward, but in the best possible way. You’re not used to being vulnerable like this, but with her, it feels right. It feels safe.

When it starts, it’s all gentle touches and soft kisses, but then there’s this moment—this ridiculous moment—where your elbow jabs into her side at just the wrong angle, and she yelps, both of you freezing like you’ve broken some unspoken rule. There’s this split-second where you’re sure the mood is ruined, but then she bursts out laughing, a real belly laugh that shakes the bed and sends you into a fit of giggles, too. You laugh until you’re breathless, your faces inches apart, her forehead resting against yours as you try to remember how to breathe.

“Sorry,” you manage between giggles, your voice tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

“It’s fine,” she says, still chuckling, and there’s this glint in her eye that makes your heart skip. “Who knew elbows could be so dangerous?”

You’re both grinning like idiots now, and somehow, the awkwardness dissolves into something tender, something that feels more real than any scripted moment ever could. She kisses you again, slower this time, her lips curling into a smile against yours. There’s no rush, no pressure to make it perfect, just the two of you figuring it out together, your laughter slowly fading into soft sighs.

You’re still fumbling a bit, still learning each other’s rhythms, but there’s a sweetness to it, a sense of discovery that makes every touch feel electric. You’re hyper-aware of everything—the warmth of her skin, the way her breath hitches when your hands move lower, the way she murmurs your name like it’s something sacred.

And when it finally happens, when you finally come together, it’s not the smooth, cinematic moment you’ve seen in movies. It’s a little clumsy, a little hesitant, but it’s yours. The connection is raw and unfiltered, filled with soft gasps and whispered reassurances. You can’t help but giggle again when your hands get tangled in the sheets, and she joins in, her face flushed and happy. It’s imperfect and human, but somehow, that makes it perfect in its own way.

Afterward, you lie there, tangled up in each other, your head resting on her chest. You can hear her heartbeat, steady and strong, and it calms you, makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can do this. You can let someone in without losing yourself.

She strokes your hair, her fingers gentle against your scalp. “You okay?” she asks, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” you say, and for the first time in a long time, you mean it. You’re more than okay. You’re happy.

She smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment, into her. You’re still scared, still worried that it won’t last, that something will happen to ruin it. But for now, you’re holding on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

[snekdood]

All ik is if i gotta be isolated and socially ostracized in spite of doing nothing wrong, then maybe we dont get to be so forgiving and understanding and Here For the person who put me in this situation. Kinda think they deserve the same shit too, i mean, if we're all being fucking genuine right? Or did they convince you so well that theyre so uwu weak and innocent that even though theyre a rapist you still need to hold them with kiddie gloves?