#and that’s just me being reasonable lol

[hexhomos]

I feel like people forget the reason viktor was socially adverse and disliked interacting with many people isn’t a lack or confidence, but a genuine annoyance with many people. He didn’t connect with people because they didn’t match him in goals, motives, intelligence, and personality.

and that’s why he chose Jayce. Jayce matched him, Jayce completed him and helped him. Jayce was a genuinely good person who had a brain and a personality.

Considering the way people in piltover are.... lol... this tracks big time and also really reminds me a lot of his orginal champion biography / motivations. Viktor has always been very idealistic and laser-focused on achieving things. He's quick to dismiss people who are, in his vision, just wasting his goddamn time. (See the way he calls league Jayce 'flamboyant and arrogant,' and makes little of their friendship after they break up - that's the average piltover citizen description in his POV imo)

Personally I'm really fond of the way s1 depicts the jayvik meeting as both of them being really aggrieved at each other, viktor for safety reasons and jayce because he thinks this guy wants to ruin his life, only for that whole dynamic to disappear the INSTANT viktor hears jayce describe his dream and how he was trying to achieve something that would improve lives at large. That's his entire thing. That's the line of thinking he's been silently mulling to himself all his life and finally, he hears an echo. Someone talks back.

[littleones-thoughts]

🖍️ My partner! I think I mentioned it in passing but it wasn't a serious enough conversation so I dunno if he remembers ;-;

❤️ I haven't thought about it but maybe Hayden from Fields of Mistria would be a really nice caregiver.

🩹 My head gets like...light. I get giggly and tend to talk "small". Sometimes words are hard but not always.

🧡 It isn't often, but it's pretty consistent to whenever I see my partner IRL and he uses a specific tone of voice or calls me nicknames like little one.

🍬 I didn't know it was a thing! Ooo I'd love recs!

💛 I don't really have a specific age (that I can tell??) maybe around kindergarten or first grade? I'm unsure.

🧸 I'm an only child and I regress.

💚 I heard over and over that I was an 'old soul'.

🧩 I would love a sippy cup! I'm unsure of if that's weird. But I sipped a drink a little out of s straw and have been obsessed with getting a sippy cup ever since.

💙 Not sure. I haven't had a chance to explore a lot. Maybe babycore? I'd have to do research!

🍭 I joined Tuesday! So like two days 🫣

💜 I'm not able to regress enough to have one but I think it would be Minecraft or just my "big" obsessions like MHA.

🍼 I think I'd like to make new memories. I haven't had the chance to purposefully do it yet but I think I would just want to make new memories.

🖤 Unsure? Had some friends a while back but I am unsure if I can count them because I don't know the label they used.

🪀 I tend to around my partner. Especially when I'm sleepy.

🪁 I think more traditional? Because the last time it happened I was watching Minecraft let's plays like I did when I was little and got immediately floaty lol

🎨 Paci! I like to chew on things and suck on things so I think I could benefit from one.

🍬 I am unsure of what that is.

🦋 Sometimes I am, but sometimes I think too hard about it and feel shame. And worry if I can be a successful adult with a career if I want to explore this part of me. Silly, I'm sure.

🧚🏼‍♀️ A way to relax. Life sucks, and I grew up too fast. I've recognized it's possible that may be the reason why I regress. I was always so mature. Even at the ripe age of six I was judging and annoyed at my classmates for just being kids. I feel like I didn't get to be one- at least not fully.

🧦 I'm too new to have any opinions! So far everyone seems really nice though!

🦇 You can do that!?

🌸 I don't have any particular headcanons.

🐈‍⬛ I'm probably the majority actually. (Unsure though)

🧃 Puppy!!

🐇 I only have one person I want and trust to- but I'm too nervous to ask them. I'm worried they'll find it weird.

🎀 I don't think I regress to a specific age. Or if I do I don't know what that age is.

🎮 I don't know. I daydream near 24/7 so it would probably be easy!

🌈 Werewolf! But the kind that just turns to human or wolf at will!

👾 When my partner calls me something like little one or coos at me because I did something cute according to him.

💭 Sitting on the floor and coloring while he sits on the couch. Having a sippy cup on standby of course.

🌙 Agere Ask Game!!! ⭐

🖍 Who is the first person you told/would tell about your headspace?

❤ If you had a fictional caregiver/little who would it be?

🩹 What do you experience when you regress? (i.e fuzzy feelings, motor skill or speech struggle, etc.)

🧡 How often do you regress or try to regress?

🍬 Do you read agere fanfiction and if so, about who?

💛 What school grade (if any) would you be in according to your headspace?

🧸 Are you an older sibling who regresses/caregives or a younger sibling who regresses/caregives?

💚 Were you considered an "old soul" growing up or were you more "childish"?

🧩 What was your first piece of agere gear or what would you want as your first?

💙 What's your regression/caregiving aesthetic? (kidcore, babycore, altcore, etc)

🍭 How long have you been apart of agere tumblr?

💜 What are you obsessed with right now in your headspace? (sanrio, sharks, bluey, etc)

🍼 Do you include your personal nostalgia in your regression/caregiving or are you creating new memories?

🖤 Have you met any other regressors/caregivers in real life?

🪀 Have you ever regressed in front of someone or has someone ever regressed around you?

🪁 Is your headspace affected more through traditional or alternative regression? (bottles & cartoons or horror & thrill)

🎨 What's a piece of agere gear that you really want to have/try?

🍬 Have you ever experienced vent regression?

🦋 Are you comfortable with your regression/headspace?

🧚‍♀️ What is age regression/caregiving to you?

🧦 What's something you like & don't like about the agere community?

🦇 Have you ever regressed in a dream?

🌸 Who do you headcanon as a regressor or caregiver? (fictional or real)

🐈‍⬛ Do you think you're represented enough in the agere community? (poc, boys, under 20/over 30 yrs)

🧃Which animal best represents your headspace?

🐇 Has it been or was it hard for you to find a little/caregiver?

🎀 Does your headspace match the gear you use/want? (i.e. regresses to 10 years but loves pacifiers)

🎮 Do you struggle to play pretend or are you super imaginative?

🌈 What mythical creature would you rather be? (Hybrid, Fairy, Dragon, etc)

👾 What's the quickest way to get you in your headspace?

💭 What's one thing you often daydream about doing with your little/caregiver?

[michellesneptune]

HOW THE MOON SIGNS ACT WHEN THEY LOVE YOU pt. 1

disclaimer: forgive me if the series doesn’t cover all twelve signs, but i don’t think i’ve known enough people to speak about everyone’s way of loving. please be patient🤗

aries moon/1H

ooooh those little devils🔥😈 you can see the mischievous twinkle in their eyes. they’re children of Ares - the god of war! when they speak of their loved ones it feels as though they’re ready to kill for them any minute, only waiting for the right (or any😂) reason.

(just my observation, please don’t come at me) i believe that these natives are prone to being more loyal, less selfish and flaky than aries venus. aries is known to be 'the baby' of the zodiac, valuing independence and self-fulfilment greatly. however, i’ve noticed aries moons to be devoted af!! you will never catch them bad mouthing a friend or a partner.

also, from my experience, both placements like to fight, however aries venus often does it for own enjoyment, the initial chase turns them on. as for aries moons, they’re more steady. they would go to great lengths for friends and partners. you can call them in the middle of the night and ask the craziest favor, they WILL come and help.

(please keep in mind that i mean unevolved aries venuses that still have a lesson or two to learn!)

PS. they love to be treated like the center of your world, please give them attention💕

taurus moon/2H

hmmmm how do i put it… 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍! i will say that i am biased bc my boyfriend is one and the way he’s attentive, always asks about the details of my day, pays attention to my routines and shows love through acts of service🥹 you’ve probably heard the rumours and they’re true. taurus moons make the best cooks ever. and i don’t mean putting together a couple of cheap pancakes, nuh uh. their sharp senses only let them buy the best quality ingredients and cook with great care. bonus points if they prepare a dish that they know is your favourite!

i will say though, they are not the most verbal lovers. but when they’re in, they mean it. when they say they love you, it becomes a fact so obvious that they don’t feel the need to repeat it over and over. they like to settle into a routine, so don’t expect them to be flaky, send mixed signals and stir things up just to feel something/for fun (sag moons cough cough😅😅).

they also seem brutal sometimes. but i believe it’s because they see honesty as the highest form of trust. they want to feel comfortable with you. they value silence, too. they’re the type to show you their appreciation not by telling you how perfect you are but by actually putting in the work to show you your value and show that they’re worthy of being by your side.

lastly, their homes are their sanctuaries, a reflection of their feelings. usually beautiful and they look for someone worthy of letting in, to match their belongings. they get a rep for being possessive and stubborn, nevertheless with the right person they can make a sacrifice and at least try to change their ways😂😂

virgo moon/6H

okay so i know they’re said to be critical, demanding, neurotic etc but hear me out. virgo is a mutable sign, ruled by mercury and in true mutable fashion they DO get wild, fun and unhinged lol. as a virgo moon myself i am well aware of the fact that i often act like i’ve got a stick up my ass. but when i get closer to you i want it all: karaoke nights, fast car rides, spontaneous trips! sometimes i even take those things to the extreme!

they’re also said to have the highest standards. and while i imagine it’s partly true, i believe that this placement is all about accepting the biggest, weirdest quirks of your s/o (as well as 6th house synastry!).

besides, i think that we get more so insecure and self-critical in relationships, analyzing the f outta our partners, wondering whether we’re meeting their demands! we’re about the overall quality of the partnership and just want it to be perfect🥺 we’re also quite anxious and require lots of reassurance.

lastly, everyone knows it: virgo moons are like the final boss of small acts of service lol. vacuuming your flat, folding your clothes. they notice the smallest things that could improve your life and happily do them for you!

capricorn moon/10H

this one is tricky. they remind me a bit of taurus but more rough in a sense that they probably won’t pamper you with luxurious baths and gourmet food but they will do things like pay your rent, get you a job or buy a car😂. i’ve noticed them to be a bit grumpy sometimes, definitely not the softest lovers.

they’re up to giving some tough love. pushing you into a scary path that they know will be rewarding in the end. teaching you that even in the hardest lessons of saturn there is light. they’re not the most cheerful on a daily basis but - surprisingly- they are the ones that keep calm in the face of crises. they’re like okay we can’t do anything about it now let’s appreciate what we do have and focus on what we can change.

it’s because they know all to well how karma is. they had to learn it the hard way which made them so strong and resilient.

what i’ve personally noticed: they will stick by your side no. matter. what. this isn’t always a good thing as sometimes it’s best to walk away but if you’re expecting a cap moon to give up on you, don’t.

i also feel like they’re used to being the oldest sibling, the mom friend etc. please take care of them from time to time!

that is all i have for you! thank you for reading💕 i wish all of you lots and lots of love💋 see ya

~Michelle

[koalapastries-writes]

I'M ONE OF THE GUYS

formula one x trans!male!driver!reader

request: how the fia would react to to y/n as a driver (or any of the drivers) almost being arrested in a country where it's illegal to be trans/gay ... that being a whole thing and the driver almost being kicked out of the race that weekend but doesn't and as a big f u to all the transphobic people running the race, they win the race that weekend - @moonandstarshyuck

summary: who gets arrested and then wins a race in f1? you.

warnings: swearing, transphobia, very minor suggestive content, very minor mention of oscar x reader, mentions of the fia and liberty media being assholes

face claim: faceless but uses pictures of other drivers + includes old/inaccurate photos for the plot lol, reader's team is inconsistent

fia.official

liked by pierregasly, f1, and 37,381 others

fia.official Statement regarding the events that occurred this morning.

tagged f1, youruser

                comments

user1 he got arrested???

user2 right? like what for???

user3 guys it's qatar, it's probably because he's trans

user4 HE'S TRANS???

user5 @/user4 you didn't know? bro is NOT secret about it?

user6 what do you mean he's not doing the sprint?

user7 the fia when a trans driver is subject to bigoted harassment: let's punish the driver! liked by youruser

user8 lmao y/n liked he's pissed

user9 oh he's gonna EAT this weekend i just know it

youruser

liked by lancestroll, logansargeant, and 1,258,770 others

youruser landed in doha! oh yeah, and i got arrested :))))

                comments

user10 he's so unserious help 😭

alex_albon what's with the last slide???

youruser idk it felt like an appropriate reaction

user11 y/n gets arrested and makes it the whole grid's problem

user12 he's so real for that i fear

user13 oh i am thinking Thoughts about y/n in handcuffs

"what do you mean the fia want me to drop out of the race?" you exclaimed, staring at your manager in disbelief. "they're too chicken shit to kick me out so they want me to drop out? fuck no."

"y/n, consider it, it's for your own safety—"

"bullshit, it is! they don't like that i'm trans and this just gives them a reason to get rid of me," you argued.

your manager sighed. she was used to you and your ... stubborn nature. of course, she understood your frustration. it was far from fair for the sport officials to try to kick you out when you were the victim. but sometimes, just sometimes, she wished you'd pick your battles a little more.

"so that's a no, then?"

"damn fucking right it is," you said, already leaving to get ready for quali, which you were now very nearly late for because the fia hadn't allowed you to participate in free practice or the sprint. "i'm racing. if they want to stop me, they have to do it themself. i refuse to be a doormat."

you were a good racer and a good driver, regardless of the situation, but it was impossible to deny that you were fiercer when you were pissed off. everyone talked about charles and max and even fernando being track terrors. usually, you were calm and collected and mostly flew under the radar no matter how well you did.

but this race?

there was no radar. there was just you.

qualifying p7 after not knowing if you'd even be allowed to race half an hour prior. the whole race had been a mix of daring overtakes, aggressive but fair battles, and a few shitty strategy decisions from your team. after a late pit stop that very nearly cost you the race, you managed to overtake oscar for the win.

f1

liked by kimi.antonelli, sebastianvettel, and 1,781,926 others

f1 Y/N L/N WINS IN QATAR!!!

After a rocky weekend and numerous distractions, Y/N proves once again that he belongs on the top step of the podium!

#F1 #Formula1 #QatarGP

tagged youruser

                comments

user14 KING SHIT

user15 who gets arrested and then wins a grand prix

user16 Y/N L/N, everyone 👏

user17 he's insane

user18 user17 he's an icon is what he is liked by youruser

user19 "rocky weekend" HE GOT ARRESTED

user20 not f1 posting this like they didn't try to get y/n to drop out of the race-

youruser

liked by jensonbutton, francolapinto, and 2,938,567 others

youruser say it louder, optimus prime

                comments

mercedesamgf1 y/n please take this down - toto

youruser no ❤️

user21 DADDY CHILL HE'S ONE OF THE GUYS

youruser fia.official f1

user22 oh he's MESSY messy

user23 i mean i'd be pissed too. they tried to make him drop out of the race. liked by youruser, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and others

oscarpiastri mega drive mate 💪

youruser thank you for recreating the fourth slide and drowning me😑

oscarpiastri youruser you know you liked it

user24 youruser on a mission to turn the whole grid gay

user25 the random mika/michael pic he's just like us fr

maxverstappen1 usually i'd be mad about the second photo but i think i'll let you have it this week

youruser like you could stop me any other week

f1 admin is very sorry ...?

fia.official seconded 🙇‍♂️

user26 i don't even follow f1 but i might start watching because y/n is unfairly cool for a man who drivers fast cars in wonky circles

youruser vroom vroom

user27 HELP

©koalapastries :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: first smau! hope you like it 🫶 partially inspired by the ve'ondre remix of it girl lol

comments + reblogs appreciated!

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers + photos from pinterest!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs

[idolomantises]

Hello, I just had a question about your monsters and girls comics, cause, do correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I haven’t seen a single cis man in the whole thing, im not saying this as a bad thing or something that annoys me, I’m just curious if there is an in lore explanation (besides it being called monster and GIRLS) or if you just didn’t feel like adding them/they weren’t introduced yet for your own reasons, again this is just something I noticed and was wondering about entirely out of curiosity

Alex is a cis man and Domino is... debatable (angel genders are weird lol). and there's no lore explanation, i just prefer drawing women hence the title. there would probably be more cis men if i drew more men to begin with.

[meracyn]

BITTER || kwon jae-sung

sypnosis. after a painful breakup that left you mentally scarred, you are forced to see kwon again, this time at the sekai taikai tournament. after successfully avoiding him many times, he finally got you to himself. the question is– will you go back to him again?

notes. cursing, reader is female for this & part of miyagi-do. kind of angst? trying out a new style for these lol

You arrived at the bar with the rest of the Miyagi-Do members. After many hours of rough training sessions and competition at the Sekai Taikai tournament, you all agreed it was fair to have some fun for a while.

The music blared through the speakers, every vibration being sent to your body. It was pretty full, but you weren't going to let that prevent you from having fun. Robby and Miguel went off on their own, as well as Demetri and Hawk. Devon had stayed back since she claimed to feel unwell, leaving you, and the female captain of your dojo alone.

You made your way to an empty spot, when you heard an all familiar voice call out to you. Looking up, you saw Sam, who sat next to you on the table, offering you a drink. "Here, you did great today by the way." She said with a smile.

Taking it from her hand, you took a sip. "Thanks, you did too." Not long after, Sam excused herself to take some fresh air outside, reassuring you she wouldn't take long.

As you were left alone, you eventually got bored and decided to go up to the bartender and order a stronger drink, which was probably a bad idea as you ended up drinking more than you intended to. Your vision was slightly blurred and your head was starting to throb.

"Ugh.." You groaned, pressing a hand against your forehead as you tried to walk out of the bar, stumbling on the way before you bumped against someone. Muttering an apology, you took a step forward when a hand grabbed your arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A sharp, low voice practically hissed at you. You felt your heart stop as you recognized the voice all too well, bringing back painful memories you thought were already gone. You tried to get out of their grasp, but their hold became much more firm, making you unable to leave.

"Let me go," You said, your tone coming off more aggressive than you thought.

"And let you be with those guys who are practically eyefucking you?"

Clenching your fist, you finally looked up. Like you figured out, it was Kwon.

Memories of the breakup flooded your mind, reminding you of the pain you felt back then. It only made your head hurt even more–and your heart, too.

"I can handle myself, thanks." You mumbled, taking the opportunity to remove your hand away from his touch. "I don't have anything to talk to you about."

Kwon reached out to hold you again, this time an arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. "Actually, we do need to talk."

You shook your head in anger, attempting to get him off of you. Kwon dipped his head low in response, his lips beside your ear. "Do you really want to cause a scene right now?" He asked, his tone sending you shivers down your spine.

You reluctantly stopped moving, as Kwon took your hand and led you out of the bar, headed towards a dark alley. The air was very chilly, a stark contrast to the bar’s warm atmosphere. As soon as Kwon stopped walking, you yanked your hand out of his.

"Why did you even bring me here?"

"I didn't think you would be at the Sekai Taikai."

"But I am, what about it?"

"You keep avoiding me."

"Yeah. The same reason you ended our relationship turned out to be in vain." You retorted, voice wavering slightly. The alcohol was starting to affect you more by the second, causing you to hold onto the cold, rough wall behind you.

Kwon took a step closer to you, faint hesitation flickering in his eyes for a moment before disappearing just as quickly. He lifted his hand to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin. "Remember those nights we spent together?" He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling a wave of drowsiness overcome your senses. "Kwon..don't.." You said quietly.

"Let us try again," Kwon persisted. "Give me another chance..yeah?" He murmured, bringing your face closer to his. Your breath hitched at his actions, heart pounding.

"We can't." You pushed him away from you, making him slightly surprised. "We're in different dojos now. Focus on yours, and I'll focus on mine." Before you could continue any further, Sam spotted the both of you and quickly rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder as she glared at the male in front of you.

"Get out. Don't you dare get any closer to her." She threatened, before turning to look at you, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah.. let's just go." You replied while avoiding Kwon's burning gaze. Sam nodded, letting you hold onto her for support as she led you out of the place.

You couldn't look back, fearing you would break and go back to him. Although deep down, you knew Kwon would do his best to do just that.

[ramblingautisticman]

So, I haven't stopped thinking about this post I did talking about Logan being terrified of Wade going quiet because of the whole Stryker-sewing-his-mouth thing, so naturally I wrote a lil angsty thing for it.

(Also posted it to A03 here!)

(Also, @icarusredwings hope you enjoy, cause your little reblog of my post kind of inspired this lol!)

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

It's this constant fear. This constant nagging in the back of his head. Logan can't help it.

Normally, he's fine. Wade is practically talking every minute of every day, but on the rare occasions he doesn't, it catches him out.

Wade doesn't need to know that though. Wade doesn't need to be burdened with more of his own stupid hang ups than he already is. So what if some of his nightmares are more focused on Wade than they are his X-Men? No one but him needs to know that.

Logan just subtly makes sure Wade is fine, reminds himself that "Stryker is dead Peanut, trust me. You made sure of that." and moves on with his day. Mostly. Usually.

And okay, yeah, maybe he should tell Wade. Maybe Wade has a right to know about what happened to the 'other' him. Maybe Logan wants to tell him purely for his own stupid reasons. Maybe he wants Wade to know that Logan won't ever let anyone do that to him. Not this time.

He can't bring himself to tell him though- instead just keeps it buried inside like most of his other trauma- and it works for awhile.

Up until Wade gets a cold and loses his voice.

It's fine. It's totally fine. He is totally fine. Logan definitely hasn't been staring at Wade's mouth just to make sure it's still there. He definitely hasn't woken up terrified and sweating because of the nightmares happening more often. He definitely hasn't had a panic attack because Wade couldn't respond to him. No. Not him. Never.

He could deal with it. Wade was just sick. It was his stupid shitty healing factor working over time to stop the cancer, and as a result he had a cold. It was fine. People got colds. People lost there voice. It wasn't the same. Stryker hadn't done this. He still had his mouth. He could still make noise- hell- he could still speak! It was just alittle croaky and quiet.

Logan knew it really shouldn't get to him this much. After all this time, he should be able to move on from that stupid shit, right? He was over 200 years old, he was grown ass man, he shouldn't be hovering near Wade to make sure he is still breathing out of his mouth. He shouldn't be sitting so close to him on the couch just to hear the tiny mutters he makes. He shouldn't be glaring at his mouth just to make sure he still fucking has one.

He knows this Wade- the Wade that saved him- never went through the Stryker bullshit, and he knows that should comfort him. He knows that should fill him with relief, and in a way it does. It means he never had the one thing he holds so dear taken away from him. It just also means that- that could still happen- couldn't it?

Sure, Stryker was dead, but that didn't mean anything. Laura was still made in a lab and experimented on. Wade was still tortured and traumatised. Just because the guy that started all this shit wasn't around anymore, didn't mean it still didn't happen. Logan couldn't help but think that, any day, someone was going to come and take Wade away. Someone was going to hurt him in a way he wasn't sure he could fix.

Wade wouldn't be Wade without his mouth. He was called 'The Merc With A Mouth' for a reason. Wade's whole thing was talking. He loved making his family laugh and using stupid pet names and telling Logan all about the lore of his favourite show. He loved reading to Al and helping Laura with her drama class. He loved coming up with quick comments and snarky remarks while he killed assholes on missions. Wade just wouldn't be the same if he couldn't talk. Logan knew that all to well- and the though that one day, it might still happen? It just didn't sit right with him.

Even after Wade's healing factor fully kicked back in again. Even after Wade was back to rambling about cartoon dogs and his latest mission. Even after Wade had killed someone with a stupid joke. Even after he started making gross sexual remarks again.

Logan still woke up from nightmares terrified that the Wade he was laying next to had a scar tissue covered mouth. Logan still had panic attacks where the only thing to sooth him would be Wade's soft voice. Logan still subconsciously found himself staring at Wade's mouth- just incase. Logan still hated when Wade was quiet while watching a movie or eating something.

He wasn't sure he would ever get over it. Not fully. He would probably get better with the nightmares, grow used to them in a way he had with the others that frequented his mind, but he would still make sure. Double checking.

He would get used to Wade going quiet when he focused on a show or if he had a mouth full of food, but his eyes would still drift to his lips, making sure they were still there.

He would be okay with Wade sometimes loosing his voice, but it would still send a wave of panic over him. It would still make him lean in alittle closer so he could make sure Wade was breathing through his mouth or muttering something.

Wade would probably never know, Logan would probably never tell him, but he would get better. He would remember that this Wade hadn't been touched by Stryker faster when he woke up. He would settle quicker as Wade mutterd a quiet "I got you baby" as he wrapped an arm around him. He would find comfort in the fact that this Wade- his Wade- would never shut up.

No matter how hard anyone tried.

[tinydefector]

Hooray!!! Omg i’m so happy lol. I’m definitely going to be smiling for the rest of my day. I finally had time to think about it and how about a platonic familial scenario with mtmte magnus and the ambassador on break and casually chatting, fluff please. let me know if you need more details, and take your time <3

(i’ve been having data problems so hopefully this ask sends through 😅)

Out of the bag - human effects

I had so much fun writing this Buddee and I hope you like it!.

Word count 1.6k

Ultra Magnus x human reader

Fic Masterlist

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________________

The ambassador sat quietly working through files while on the desk, fingers pinching their temple as they re-read the text. A hot drink beside them as they worked. Ultra Magnus sat at the desk as he too worked. It would have been rather funny to look at, A large alien robot sitting at his desk working while his co-worker who was much smaller sat on the same desk on their own seat with a desk. They looked almost like they were a toy figure. 

They take a sip of their drink and roll their shoulders slightly. "Please tell me I don't have to fix another 15 files of Rodimus getting side tracked again and typing out random words like Chinchilla?" They mumble almost like a pray.

Ultra Magnus cycled a weary ex-vent, field rippling with long-suffering patience. "I'm afraid so, Ambassador. The captain seems...incapable of submitting forms in any semblance of proper order." He pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, nearly the same pose as them. an unmistakably human mannerism picked up from long acquaintance. "At this rate, reconciling his haphazard paperwork will occupy the majority of your work cycle."

Magnus observed the ambassador's flagging energy levels with mild concern. "Perhaps you should take a brief respite. Overexerting yourself serves no purpose - I can handle the captain's responsibilities for the time being."

His tone, while stern, held an undercurrent of genuine care. Despite their differences, he cared deeply for the ambassador; their well-being remained in everyone's best interests. 

"The schedules can wait. I suspect you've had enough excitement for one orn already." A hint of dryly amused. "I'll be alright Magnus, Just got a headache and sore. Really wasn't planning on dealing with reports, but it beats having to do holovids with Prowl, I want to strangle that mech some times." They reply leaning back in their seat, bringing their drink up and holding it in their hands as they close their eyes for a moment.

Prowl's combative nature makes diplomatic discourse a...trial, to say the least." He cycled another heavy ex-vent. "Though I must say, your own entanglements have proven equally...taxing, of late." Magnus leveled them with a pointed look, with a hint of mild disapproval.

"I trust you understand the risks involved, consorting so closely with the crew. Propriety and protocol exist for good reason - to maintain order and prevent compromising our mission." 

Yet beneath the stern admonishment, a thread of genuine concern shone through. "I only caution you to tread carefully, little one. The games played aboard this ship can be...treacherous, for those caught unawares."

His gaze softened marginally. "I would not see you come to harm, simply for wishing to find companionship in these trying times. Despite what you and others may think i do care about you" 

Embarrassment slowly works its way into their system as they look down as if they were a child who just got caught stealing something. "How.. how did you" they start not knowing how to continue talking. "Come now, Ambassador - did you truly think your...activities would escape my notice?" Magnus replied, a hint of wryness in tone.

He shook his helm slightly. "I may be strict, but I'm not blind. The signs were...quite evident.” Leaning back in his chair, Magnus fixed the ambassador with a measured look. "I'll not lecture you on proper conduct - Primus knows life aboard this ship is complicated enough as it is." Attempting to soothe their clear discomfort. "However, I must urge caution. Entanglements with subordinates."

They continue to look down for a moment processing his words. "I know, I wasn't planning on getting involved with anyone, it just sort of happened. Told Ratchet that it was to stay on the down low, and Ratchet had the same concern about risk, he wanted to make sure if something did happen with other bots outside of him and Drift that i had someone to trust if something happened. I was just worried that if you, Rodimus or Megatron found out. My job was gone" they mumble, they were filled with so much anxiety and panic over the situation only for the mech they feared the most about it to just say he knew. 

Magnus cycled a heavy vent. "I see. That...explains certain observations, I must admit." He rubbed a servo over his faceplate. "Ratchet and Drift, of all mechs. I confess, I had not anticipated that particular entanglement."

Fixing the ambassador with a level stare, Magnus continued, "However, you needn't fear repercussions from myself or the others." A hint of wryness entered his tone. " We've all been there, at one point or another." 

They let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you Magnus, and I'm making sure to look after myself. Woah just wasn't expecting to be having this conversation with you is all. You have no idea how much fear I had about you finding out about my um.. 'activities'. You bots aren't exactly subtle about your 'human fucker' content  " they state before slowly having another mouthful of their drink.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I understand your concern. confess, even I am not entirely immune to the temptations that arise. However, I endeavor to maintain strict protocols."  Magnus continued solemnly, "I cannot - and will not - control the personal affairs of my crew. That is a burden I do not wish to bear."

A hint of wryness entered his tone. "Though I must admit, the antics of Megatron and Rodimus have certainly tested my patience on more than one occasion. They are both very fond of you"

“I had a feeling they were. Magnus you being tempted, now that's new to me, I'm sorry they are causing you trouble” they chuckle, smiling up at him, enjoying the banter.  

"Ratchet and Drift both know I'm not interested in a relationship, it's mainly just stress relief, and i think Sunstreaker just has a bjt of a kink for someone who isn't going to scratch his paint" they confirm, making him aware of yet another bot involved. Magnus's optics widened fractionally at the mention of Sunstreaker - another unexpected development in this tangled web. "I see. So Sunstreaker as well, hmm?"

”It would appear you...ambassador has been quite diligent in cultivating a support network aboard this ship." Fixing the human with a measured look, Magnus continued, "And you are certain this...arrangement suits you? Entanglements with the crew, regardless of intent, can prove...complicated."

The nod. “Yes, I'm content and want to keep this on the down low, I don't need it getting back to my superiors on earth, nor do I need Prowl making issues of it.” They explain. In truth they were very happy with the arrangement, and felt less guilty now that they were talking with Ultra Magnus over the situation. 

"I merely wish to ensure you are not inadvertently placing yourself in jeopardy, little one." Magnus paused, considering his next words carefully. "However, if this provides you the stress relief you require, then I shall refrain from further commentary." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Though I must admit, I'm somewhat impressed by your...resilience, in the face of such formidable suitors."

It makes their face fluster as they look away from him quickly. “That's not funny and you know it” they huff under their breath only for him to let out a soft rumbled noise. Shaking his helm ruefully, the Autobot commander returned his attention to the ever-present datapads. "Very well. You have my discretion and, should you need, my counsel as well."

"They have all been good to me, very respectful and accommodating. They mainly have been dead quiet about involvement because of you actually." They hum. "Well technically you, Megatron and Rodimus. You three I do look up to alot, and your opinion means alot to me. I was just worried you would have me court martialled and shipped back to earth for fraternization "

Magnus's field rippled with a mix of surprise and begrudging respect. "I see." 

"While I cannot condone such...personal entanglements, I confess I am impressed by your discretion thus far. It speaks to a level of maturity and pragmatism I had not anticipated." Magnus met their gaze steadily. "You have proven yourself a valuable asset to this ship. I would not see that jeopardized, simply due to youthful indiscretions." 

With that now out of the way they sit there quietly before looking up at ultra Magnus from their spot sitting on the desk. "Could I have a hug, at the moment I can feel myself shaking from the fear and anxiety " they try to joke and make light of how afraid they were of him finding out. 

Magnus regarded the ambassador with a soft expression, field pulsing understanding. "Of course." He gently scooped them up, cradling their small frame against his chest in a rare display of tenderness. "There is no need to fear, Ambassador." His deep voice rumbled with reassurance as he lightly stroked their back.

They lean their head against his plating, relaxing against him.  "Thank you, you're a real one Magnus. No one will ever change that" Magnus rumbled softly, the vibration soothing against the ambassador's frame. "You are most welcome. I am merely doing what I believe is right."

He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring their comfort as they leaned into him. A rare, small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You have earned my trust, Ambassador. That is no small feat."

With that, Magnus simply held the ambassador, allowing them the chance to find solace in the steadiness of his frame. And in truth he rather enjoyed holding them close. 

_______________

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[ctrlhope]

Chasing Tornados (m)

synopsis: Ever since you were young, you found solstice in the clouds. Found haven in their winding winds, their chilling storms. Monsters of the air meant to destroy became your love— your safety. You know everything about the skies, yet you only want to know more about him. Wish for him to love you just as much as you do him. Your best friend. Your scorpion. Your impossible. Your Yoongi. -> part of the rest, relax, reserve series

m.yoongi x f.reader

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : wc: 21.0k+

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : genre: hybrid au, storm chasers au, soulmate au, friends/coworkers to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : content: scorpion hybrid!yoongi x human!reader, storm chaser!yoongi+reader, angst, semi-public sex (bathroom), fingering, p in v, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, bratty!reader a lil, rough sex, thigh riding, sex under the influence (alcohol), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, one mention of a breeding kink, yoongi has a tail, mates, misunderstandings, fights, jealousy, non-linear storytelling, reader and yoongi are both kinda stupid idk, but also v cute, angst but a happy ending <33

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : notes: heyyyyy it’s ur girl, back with another mc let’s play video!! kidding lol, sorry this took so long to write, life has been really hectic. trust me on this fic lol. but i rlly fell in love with these two nd I hope you do too <33 and i hope u enjoy my attempts at comedy! remember!! my requests are always open nd you can always feel free to send asks to characters <33

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

Wind wraps in your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in your ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person. 

But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon. 

The world acts as something greater- something more than yourself. A collective that has not a care for you or the people in it. A system acting for its own desires. A storm that takes and takes and takes until there's nothing left to give. 

You love it. Love every second of it. 

Even if you should be scared, even if you should be terrified– look for cover just like everyone else. To hide and cower away from the winding beast that destroys homes, takes down power lines. That kills. You can’t. Not when you feel this– this calling deep in your bones. This calling to know more. This calling to conquer a monster. 

To chase the impossible. 

You have always lived for that very thing. Have constructed your entire life around finding answers for beasts that are beyond reason, to construct something real from what can only be construed as fake. To look the storm in the eye, to live within it rather than to be consumed.

And that is exactly why you stand where you find yourself now. Tornado Alley. A storm brewing just in front of you. Warm air meeting cold, finding breath, coming to life. 

Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should let panic set you alight and carry you far, far away from the death spirals. Maybe you should do a lot of things, yet you can't. You can only stare in wonder as rain hits your flesh. As the wind tries to take your clothes, battering them in the breeze. As electricity cracks above your head, light debris flying past your form to entertain the forming tornadoes fury.  

Bang, Bang, Bang.��

Now that sound isn't from the storm, it can’t be. Sounds too much like metal, like a fist hitting it. Oh right, the car. 

“(Y/n) get your ass in here, now!” His voice is loud, forced to so you could hear him above the storm. He would never yell otherwise. Never raise his voice a single decibel against you. 

Your body turns to face him, a smile breaking across your cheeks without a second thought. Eyes turning to crescents, rain dripping down your cheeks. 

Right, Yoongi. 

The impossible. 

You don’t know when it happened. It shouldn’t have happened. But you knew it did. Felt the shift in your soul whenever you looked at him, felt your blood pumping just a fraction faster whenever he was close. Felt yourself yearn to smell his signature Yoongi scent whenever you sat in his car, whenever he drove you around on one of your little escapades. 

Maybe it was a year ago. Maybe less. Maybe more. You could never be sure– emotions never were your strong suit. But he knew that, and he didn’t care. Never pressured or pried, always just let the two of you be. Act in co-existence in a way you doubt two people could. 

Your partner in crime, your solace among the disarray perpetuating every second of your job– your life. The only person you knew crazy enough to chase the storms with you. To risk their life driving you into the eye. Your right hand man. Your friend. 

None of it should have happened. But it did anyway. Isn’t that always the way life goes? The same way the storms control the skies, he found himself controlling your heart with no will of his own. No knowledge of the underlying flutter that found its way into your guts the second he looked at you, nor any knowledge of the way your eyes fell into adoration when they fell on him. 

Why did you have to fall in love with the storm? 

You weren’t sure– never cared to look deeper into the fact. Never cared to think about why you couldn’t fathom a future without him. Never dared to dip into why the scrawny kid from your college has suddenly become a man before you. Never even thought to challenge the pre-disposed ideologies that held your friendship by its core.

No. You would never do anything as stupid as that. 

Yes, you were a creature of impulse. Never the type to take into account the consequences your actions disclosed. But you like to chase the impossible. You would never think to actually attempt to change it. Especially when you could lose everything in the process. Lose him.

In more ways than one.

Plus, you know where he stands. Know he could never see you as anything more than a friend– a little sister. The hair ruffles, the slight glares he gives when men talk to you in the bars, the way he puts up with your ‘overly affectionate’ cuddles– as much as you wish the simple actions meant more, you knew they simply didn’t.

A big brother. Unfortunately for you, he knows that’s the role he plays in your life too well. 

But he’s not your big brother. He's a man, you’re a woman. It’s not like you ever asked to get caught up in the stringers that tangled you together. Not like you ever asked for this crush to form. 

“For fucks sake! (Y/n)!” His voice is louder now, a harsh yell pulling you from the thoughts that sunk you under the waves. His body forcing itself through the wind to get to you, arm raising to shield his face. “We have to fucking go!!” 

He would admonish you later for getting too caught up in your own thoughts again– something you knew all too well. But when the storm was raging around you, it was almost easier to think. To get lost in the recesses of your brain until you drew the conclusion you had been looking for all along. 

His hand grips your wrist now, dragging you back to the safety of your company truck all while scolding you harshly with words he never actually meant. Just his salt-coated concern peaking through the surface. And well, his concern about getting swallowed up by the storm. Yeah, most people worry about that kind of stuff. At least that’s what you suppose. 

“Are you that fucking stupid?” He shouts roughly at you, forcing you to get in the passenger seat. His touch is gentle even if his words are strong. He always has been strong. “You’re going to get yourself killed!” 

He slams the door closed before you can say anything back– frustrated but not mad. Never mad at you. And for that you can’t help the giddy feeling on your lips. Your eyes watching him as he quickly walks to his side of the car, tail curled close to his back almost as if to protect himself. 

Right, his tail. You forget about it a lot of the time– but at the same, you are so very fond of it. Smile whenever it moves in response to his emotions, giggle whenever he forgets about it himself, tripping over the thing. 

You often forget Yoongi isn’t a full human. But it’s never played much of a role in your life, in your friendship. So you don’t really see the point to care. Choose to ignore the scorpion blood that runs through his veins and view him as any other person walking the face of the earth. It’s never bothered you. 

Most people around you call you a fool anyway, it’s not much to add another reason to it. 

“Ah~ Don’t worry, King Yoongi. I don’t plan on getting myself killed anytime soon.” You let out a gentle giggle as he finds his way into the car, pressing on the gas almost immediately and driving as fast as he can away.

His body is so rigid, so stressed. Yet you can’t be further from it. Your legs propped haphazardly on the dashboard, your body sinking deeper into the seat. You trust him. He always gets you out. Something about his special senses, probably. Maybe. 

Actually, you don’t know. You should ask him about it later– how he can see in such horrid conditions. 

“You will if I just leave you there.” He rolls his eyes, glancing over to you for only a second before managing back to the road, “Don’t think I won’t.” 

“You won’t though.” He only scoffs, but you can see the smile at the corner of his mouth. It warms you almost as much as the sound of the rain– or maybe it's hail now, pelting the roof of the car.  

“I could and I will.” 

“But you won’t.” 

“Just put your fucking seat belt on.” He grumbles, his voice getting a fraction louder as he turns the wheel harshly, a last second manoeuvre. A stick flying through the air past your window. A narrow avoidance. 

The car bumps harshly as it drives, the roads narrow and in disarray. Swerving to avoid debris that litters the ground and jumping as it dips into potholes. It feels like a race. Makes you feel alive even as you click the belt into place– as he moves his tail across your frame to act as a second one. 

You should be scared. Should be terrified of getting caught in the storm. But you trust Yoongi. You know he’ll always protect you. 

“Did the other teams drop their equipment on time?” You ask, reaching below your seat and grabbing the computer. He sends you a pointed glance. 

“According to the sensors we were the last ones.” 

“Well we always are~” You mumble back, a little sing-song in your voice while your head tilts towards your chin. Eyes scanning the array of measurements that pop up on the screen– reading them, taking in their meaning. 

It is your job, anyway. 

“Who’s fault is that?” His words don’t perfectly cross your ears, never do when you're trying to focus. An input of too much information at once and a computer might explode! Aka your brain, aka he’s known for years you have selective hearing when trying to understand complicated things. 

“Mhmm…” You quietly mumble out, fingers moving quickly to type as he finally drags the car out of the storm. Slows down to a more human speed as you type out a few observations, input pieces of code to make your readings more sensible. 

You completely miss the small smile he sends your way, the tilt of his head trying to check “Mmm… Nothing we haven’t seen before. Got a couple of cool 3D models of the storm your screen, “Anything interesting?” 

though…” You tilt the laptop in his direction, showing him the model of the storm. Exactly how big it was, how fast it was moving. “Just an E2, but still pretty.” 

“Yeah, had to’ve been to almost let it eat you.” 

You roll your eyes, shutting the laptop as he pulls over to the side of the road, “Of course, I’d let anything as pretty as that take me out.” 

He scoffs, “Anything, really?”

“Yeah, you know that guy on Attack on Titan that's like ‘oh i’d let a pretty female titan eat’-- Wait a second it is not my fault!” You suddenly announce, his words before finally registering in your mind, “You’re always tinkering with the the the bits!! That’s why it takes so long!”

You grump, crossing your arms. A fond smile finding its way to his lips. 

“Yeah, cause the ‘bits’ are the real issue, aren’t they? Not you playing out music videos in your head while a tornado is hurrdaling at us?”

“Okay! That was one time! And totally not my fault!” You huff, not in any real annoyance, just simply banter. Yoongi always seemed to like your over-dramatic reactions anyway. “You said we could play Hurrcane!! By my girl Bridget Mendler! You know what that song does to me!” 

He can only laugh in response, the gums of his mouth showing as he tilts his head back. Long black hair falling lower against his shoulders. Tail falling lax for the first time in forever. Crests shown in his eyes. 

You like giving Yoongi your reactions if it means he can smile like this. 

When he looks in your direction for a breef second, you can’t help but puff out your cheeks and stick out your tounge in pestilence. The action only causing him to shake his head, eyes returning to the road a little brighter than before.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. How could I possibly forget.” A thousand words are said behind his tone that you could never pick up on. Never notice. “You get so excited, like a kid. It’s funny.”

Your head jerks to look at him, a pointed glare in your eye, “She makes me feel things you can’t even hope to understand, Min.”

He rolls his own, “Uh huh. I’m sure.” 

College. Senior Year. The perfect hell it bestows on all of its captors. 

The combined effort of senior thesis’s, grad school searches, advanced level course work, and the unyielding need for money after graduation, as it turns out, is the best possible combination for stress any one person can find! How wonderful. Especially for you, with a stupid gpa you need to upkeep to keep your stupid scholarships, so you can get your stupid degree and get your stupid job–

Well, okay. Now you’re just spiralling. 

Annoyed and tired has never been a good combination for everyday dreamers. Especially those that have been working their entire lives for a single goal. To chase their every last dying hope since they were a child. To become the very person they could only wish to be in their youth. 

But in all fairness, your ass has been handed to you on a silver platter after your last exam grade was horribly, terribly slid to you face down against the table. A quiet note of “see me after class” listed on the top without reverie. Your thoughts a sudden cyclone vortexing you inward and onward, wishing you could tell the sweet summer child of your adolescence that you had failed her. That you were never going to be able to live inside a tornado as she had wished. 

Oh. The monster that you were. 

That was, at least, until you did meet with your professor. And, apparently, he wasn’t going to drop you from the class and (somehow) get you removed from the college like you had thought! Even better, he saw how hard you worked– how much you truly care. Deciding to lend a hand rather than pull it back. Giving you a building and a time to meet with a tutor he specifically picked out. 

Someone he would apparently trust his life to. Your life– okay, academic career, to as well. 

That’s how you found yourself now. Walking through a library that had to be older than your great grandparents– the scent of mildew filling your nose as you moved farther and farther into the recesses of the building. 

Why, exactly, you had to meet in the deepest, darkest corner of the library at an absurd hour of the day confuses you even now. Annoys you a little, quite frankly. Leaving your dorm past 8pm feels like a nightmare.

But you trust your professor, you trust that he wouldn’t steer you wrong. Well, hope is probably a better term. One that more accurately portrays your inner conflicts as you make your way to the back conference table nestled deep within walls of encyclopaedias. Dust entrapping the air you sit in– age and memories baked in the walls. 

At worst, that’s all you shall make. Memories. Call the whole thing a bust and look online for some tutors or go to a used bookstore and buy a few more outdated textbooks. At best, you’ll pass the class and become one of the best meteorologists the world has seen. No pressure on Mr. Mystery Tutor or anything. Obviously. 

None at all. 

Your fingers find themselves tapping against the table as you think; seat already taken, items already spread out as you wait. Just your ring finger over and over in a repeated motion– the beat of wind speeds picking up on a desert plane. The bubbling of magma under the surface of the earth. The–

“(Y/n)?” A husk of a voice breaks your almost monotonous silence, your tapping suddenly ceased as a chill travels down your spine. A chill from the tone of someone's voice alone– can you believe that? 

Somewhere, once, when you were little, you heard that a chill runs down your spine whenever a serial killer passes by. But this isn't that. No, this is something entirely different. More familiar. More recognizant. 

Your eyes shoot pitifully fast up at him, almost tilting your head as you take in the features. Black hair– maybe brown, baggy hoodie, slouched shoulders. One hand supporting the shrap of his bag that hangs over his shoulder. 

No, you don’t know him. Maybe a future you does– one where a timeline passes over this exact spot. Where you’re friends already, maybe something more. Something safe. Though, that isn’t a very scientific explanation. One colleagues and professors may make fun of you for. You disregard the notion, only nodding your head to confirm. 

He only mirrors the motion in return, seemingly not one for conversation himself. Finding himself pulling out the chair across from yours, setting himself inside of it. Wasting no time in pulling out his own belongings. 

Laptop, textbook, notebook. 

“The professor said you were having trouble with qualitative analysis of…” His voice trails off, and you can’t help but wonder how someone's voice can almost sound like a well-loved record. A tune that can’t quite find its sink– almost too rigid to hope itself melodic. 

You listen to the same voice as it sings out the songs of your lessons. As he goes over the failed exam beat by beat. Explaining the first few questions in such simple terms anyone could understand them. Not in a way that felt condescending, no. Again, it just felt so warm that you couldn’t do anything but listen to him quietly. Absorbing everything without a single interruption. 

Well, until question 7 at least. That is when you feel two synapses connecting in your brain reminding you of an ultra-important task that absolutely cannot be forgotten. A handshake. Your small hand cutting him off, reaching across the table without a second thought.

He stares at the pervasive hand as if it is something he’s never seen before. Never been offered in the first place. Something offensive to hurt rather than anything else.

Interesting. 

“My dad always said you have to shake hands when you’re meeting someone. Or else it’s bad luck down the road. So…” You explain away simply, like it should be obvious to every person on the Earth. It should, honestly. But you’ve been told you have issues with thinking that way– that things obvious to you should be obvious to everyone else. That everyone else lives within the same bubble you’ve found yourself residing in your whole life. 

You know it isn't true– that the bubble you’ve created is something you simply live in alone. Periphery finding itself resident to everyone else. But that’s awfully lonely, isn't it? You choose to think the former. 

His shoulders slowly unfurl, defences slowly lowering as he meets your hand in the middle. Rough palm meeting yours, shaking slowly up and down before both sides pull away. A magnet short of attraction of two bodies as you pull away. 

“Good.” You nod, pulling your knees up to hover off of the ground. Resting them against the edge of the table instead. “I don’t like bad luck either.” 

There's a beat of silence, one that you don’t mind. 

“Do you not like black cats then either?” His tone has an edge of pessimism to it. His defences considering a raise. 

You, on the other hand, feel immediate offence. How dare he! “What?! Are you crazy! Or course I like them.” 

You miss the crook of his lip into a light smirk, defences gone once more, “Well, normally they’re seen as bad luck…” 

“That’s just a stereotype!” You instantly defend. Your body leaning over, moving your face closer to his. 

He holds his arms up in defence, pencil still wedged between his fingers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My bad completely.” He lets out a quiet chuckle at the end, you only puff out your cheeks.

“Entirely.” You huff quietly, almost sounding like a petulant child, “I would never judge something just off of how they’re born.” At that, he almost perks an ear. 

“Really?” He asks, his eyebrows slowly raising, “Not even hybrids?” 

Ah, hybrids. A common discussion other people find themselves having, one that you never really found the purpose of. Arguments on their rights, the ethics of keeping them as pets, on if they should even be classified as intelligent life. You hated all of them. Didn’t understand for a second why people kept themselves concerned with class divisions or keeping others subservient at all. 

As far as you care, they’re the same as humans. Think like humans, act like humans. Another creature just as deserving the right to live and exist as all others. You don’t concern yourself with the difference in their existence– seeing them, treating them the same as you would any other person. 

You can’t stand that others find different opinions than yourself. Cutting them off entirely for treating another living, breathing creature with the capacity to think for itself as less. Reminding you desperately that you live on the periphery. 

“No, why should I care.”  You scrunch your nose up at the notion you’d think otherwise. He takes the action differently. “They’re the same as everyone else.” 

You surmise your ideologies simply, though you’re never sure if your words construe correctly. His results are inconclusive as well, letting out a quiet grunt. Dropping the subject. Keeping his words from revealing what is true. 

“What else is bad luck then?” 

You don’t notice the quick subject change, “Walking under ladders, whistling in the woods, doing your laundry on a sunday. …I can’t imagine saying Bloody Mary in a mirror 3 times is much help either.” 

He pauses for a second, his eyes just looking at you. They’re sharp things– knives against a grinder maybe. Could even be too sharp to be human, if you cared to look a little closer. Cared to notice the differences between you and him. 

But you don’t, nor will you probably ever. Just allow him to shake his head simply, let him return to your test questions without a single other thought leaking into that brain of yours. Only this time, you feel comfortable enough to ask a few more questions. Let him delve more deeply into the work without the threat of your mind wandering off to useless things. Allow the clock to tick later, later, later into the night– moving from your exam, to the most recent concept your class has been working on. Carefully treading the water, staying afloat as you finally begin to understand. 

You hate to admit it, you really do for the sake of your pride alone, but he really is a good teacher. He doesn’t seem upset when you ask questions– no matter how stupid you are. He stays calm whenever you start to get frustrated, carefully talking you through it instead of getting upset himself. He seems so peaceful you almost want to hate him for it. 

Almost, because between the gentle instructions and messy handwriting as the hours tick late into the night, jokes begin to crack freely between both of your tongues. Gentle jabs that mean nothing, topics construing into obscurity flowing into something more entertaining to discuss. 

Though– he did seem to have pause when you told him you don't trust fish. Something about them thinking they’re better than you– of which he agreed. Not that they’re better than you, of course not. But that yeah… they do seem to have that kind of look in their eyes. 

He feels the same way about birds, you learned. Interesting. 

It isn’t until midnight that he calls it, a time you didn’t even think was plausible. You thought it was 9:30, 10 at the latest! There’s no way midnight could have come so soon! Just the idea of it sounded fake. But then you checked the clock in the library, then your phone, and now you don’t know what to think. 

Time has never flown so simply with another person. 

“I told you I wasn’t lying.” He has that stupid smirk on his face, the one you’ve decided means he’s feeling cocky and amused. 

“You could… you could have changed all of them when I wasn’t looking! To trick me?”

“Yeah.. mhmm.. And what would that do.. For either of us..?”

“. . . I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Right.” He smiles, a real smile that shows off his gums. You can’t help but reflect a smaller one back at him. 

Once again he moves first, standing after he’s collected all his belongings. Tossing his bag over his shoulder while you hurry to catch up. Sliding your laptop inside before making sure your pens know their correct homes in the case–

What was that?

It was something so subtle anyone could have missed it. A mouse scurrying between cases, a piece of trash floating by. Something brown moving quickly in the corner of your eye. Something you neglected to notice. How could you not notice something so obvious?

When you look up at him– finally take the man you’ve spent the night with in his entirety, you see it. You missed it while he was sitting down, obviously trying to keep the thing from view, but now there was no hiding it. It was impossible to hide the thick brown tail that hung behind him in such a relaxed posture you wonder if he forgot about it, too. 

You couldn’t help the instant fascination as you took the form of it in. The pretty segments it appeared to be broken into– 5 if you counted them correctly, all stacked neatly upon one another. All leading to a stinger resting at the end, gently curled inward rather than held in defence. 

The gentleness of the man himself contrasted so nicely with the firmness of the tail. 

So pretty.

It was only then that he must’ve realised his mistake. Must’ve noticed your silence, followed your eye line to see exactly where it was laying. Realised that he let his guard down too quickly– understood too quickly that you didn’t already know about his… condition. His state of existence. 

The professor must’ve not told you. Probably thought it was a negligible factor even though it never is. Maybe when he came in you missed it, you didn’t actually look up at him until he sat down anyway. Until his tail was already tucked deep under the chair for protection. 

Without realising it, his tail raises. Curing behind his back, the tip looking even sharper than it normally does. Meanwhile his body tenses up entirely. Defence utterly encasing his form.

Fuck, and then your eyebrows are raising– and next you’re gonna start screaming and he’ll have to run so he doesn’t get taken in by hybrid services and–

“Can I touch it?” Your voice brings him back to reality, back from the ‘end-of times’ it found itself careening towards. Now he’s just, he’s just confused. Did you just ask him if you could touch it? Why aren’t you acting like he’s suddenly the scum of the earth? That’s how hybrids are treated anyway. 

Even if you said otherwise earlier, that doesn’t mean much to someone who's never experienced otherwise. 

“. . . oh… or maybe that’s rude. Forget it. Sorry.” You rush out instead, taking his appearance softly. Honestly, you don’t know much about what could be considered ‘rude’ to hybrids… you don’t have much experience with them at all, actually. 

“You’re not…” He fumbles with himself, his tail remaining raised like a predator. He forces himself taller, forces himself to appear more together. More ready to ‘strike’-- figuratively. He clears his throat, “What, you have something you want to say?”

You cock your head back sharply, rising to your feet, “No, why would I?” You feel just as confused as him. Maybe asking to touch a hybrid’s parts is more taboo than you thought… 

“Look I didn't mean any offence it was just pretty and–”

“Just fucking run off and report me if you’re going to–”

Both sentences are said at the same time from each party, the response mirroring exactly as well. Both faces twist into that of almost confusion and offence, upset that the other would dare say something like that for entirely different reasons. 

“What are you talking about?” Your question comes from annoyance, almost anger that he would think you would do something as nasty as reporting him when he was just trying to live his life. 

His comes from the simple word pretty. Why would you think his appendage was anything of the sort? The one thing his entire life that’s set him back– the very blood in his veins betraying him. The reason he can’t be accepted by normal people. The reason he has to take stupid night classes at this university with any professor that is actually willing to accept him. To accept his under the table payments. 

The very reason he’ll never get a real job– just hope to be adopted by someone who will let him do what he wants. Just hope that the authorities don’t find him, or that his own landlord won’t turn him in before he can do that. 

And you think it’s pretty? No fucking sane person would. 

“Why would you think I’d report you?” Your tone is hurt, the pang in his heart hurting just as much. He hates that he feels it, and he hates that he wants to comfort you more than anything else. Stupid fucking scorpion genes. 

“What else would you do?” He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Literally nothing. I would do nothing.” You glare at him slightly, “I don’t care that you’re a hybrid, why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” His tone is accusatory, but he doesn’t quite know what else to make it. 

“Okay, let’s go down the list, yeah?” The spite in your tone lets the both of you know this night is taking a sour turn, “You can think, you can feel, oh right, you’re your own fucking person.”

You roll your eyes, “I know words don’t mean much, probably, but I view literally every creature as equal.” He still stands firm, your words and his life experiences battling in his mind. You sigh, this isn’t going anywhere. “Listen, I know it probably doesn’t mean much, and like, we both just met so I know it doesn’t hold much value. But I’m really sorry for whatever you’ve gone through in your life. It couldn’t have been easy. But I really, truly don’t care about whatever laws are in place. As far as I’m concerned, you’re equal to me.”

Your tone had gone soft, more gentle. Trying to dispel the hostility that hung fragrant in the air. But it looks like he can’t move. Doesn’t really know how after all of that. You probably wouldn’t either– though you’re not sure, you’ve never been good at putting yourself in other people's shoes. You just hope he believes you… that’s all you can do. 

“I’ll head out first. You have my number, text me if you want to meet again.” You start towards the door, the ball left in the other man’s court. You wish you could’ve at least got his name first but.. He never introduced himself. Hmm, maybe you did the handshake too late, that’s why the bad luck kicked in. 

“You think it’s pretty?” You almost don’t hear his words, too far away. 

You turn your body back to face him, a gentle smile crocheted onto your lips, “Of course I do. Exquisite.” 

The two of you stand in silence for a minute longer, trying to navigate the confusing energy moving between both of your forms. It’s only when you turn back around again to leave that he finally speaks. The simple word of his name. 

“Yoongi.” 

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Yoongi.” You say softly, tilting your head to look at him once again, “I really do hope we can be friends.”

But that was years ago. Friends came and went; now you want so much more. More than you could ever quite articulate. You know it now as you sit with him, an after-chase ritual in whatever cheap roadside bar you can find. Never finding yourselves regulars, always on the move– save for the presence of each other. 

“I don’t think luck is real, you know.” Yoongi drawls into your ear, the scent of alcohol heavy on his tongue. His body leaning against yours in the crowded bar, hair dancing against the side of your neck all while his tail finds itself curled around your back. A simple motion that could only be described as protective, possessive. 

“What?!” You dramatically slap your hand against your mouth, an action you picked up from him. Alcohol inhibiting both of your minds only slightly, letting words flow a little easier than they otherwise might. Letting touch feel a little more commonplace. 

An afterwork tradition, if you will. 

“You’re insane!” You announce, slapping his shoulder playfully, “You’re gonna make bad luck get us Yoongi!! Take it back!” 

Your voice is almost a whine, and he wants to fold because of it. 

“You say that like you aren’t a stem major!” He laughs, his eyes shining like crescent moons you want to live on. Wait, does that even make sense?

“That doesn’t matter! We're like– the least scienc-y!! Our whole job is practically based on luck! Oh my god!” Now you’re stopping your foot a little, and his tail finds itself pulling you closer.

“Yeah, but you have no idea how many ladder’s I’ve walked under and you still say I have the best luck.” He giggles– fucking giggles!! Can you believe the audacity of this man?! 

“Yoongi!! How dare you!! Do you know how many E5s’ you’ve cost us?! Probably like.. Like 20!” 

“Mm, maybe yours just keeps it up for the both of us. Huh?” You humph, you fucking humph, and maybe– just maybe, Yoongi feels himself going a little insane. Forgetting himself– what you are meant to be to him.

“That’s the only plausible explanation… obviously…” 

He hums, “Obviously.” 

There’s a brief moment, a flicker in the air of something indescribable. Something that makes your skin feel a quiet, humble flame strumming under the surface. That makes you feel as if there's electricity pulsing through the space left between your noses. That makes you feel almost invincible as your eyes meet his warm brown tones. 

You’ve come to love earthy hues since meeting Yoongi. He’s full of them, after all. 

But, the flame of the match is blown out far too quick for you to truly comprehend what that moment was. Why it felt the way it did. Instead, your left sputtering with the absence of Yoongi, the slow withdrawal of his form. 

“I’ll go get us more drinks.” His gravelly voice mutters just loud enough to hear over the music. You can only nod along, already missing the security of the tail curled around your back. 

At least he isn’t so shy about it’s presence anymore. At least not like he was back then– trying to hide it, trying to make the rest of the world forget about it. You never understood why, no, how could you when you love it so much? Find it just another integral part of Yoongi for you to love. 

You can even smile now, thinking back to how cute he got the first time he let you touch it. How he turned red to his ears, the chill that travelled down his spine. The flick of it as it chased after your hand when you retreated. It was too fucking cute back then… mm. Maybe that’s when you first started to grow a crush on the man. 

Or maybe it was always how struck he was when you complimented him. Pushed it aside like it meant nothing, yet he always seemed a little out of it for the rest of your time spent together. You suppose Yoongi has always been reticent to your gaze; but then again, he was always aloof when it came to his feelings as it was. Nothing to dwell on, honestly. 

You’ve never tried to hide your feelings– have never wanted to, really. You don’t think you even know how. But you’re not going to force them on him either. If he wants to act, the door has always been open. And it will remain open to him, probably forever. 

“How’d the chase go this time?” A voice carries you from your head, your feet returning to the solid ground. Jisung, a fellow chaser finds himself in the seat next to yours– the seat Yoongi used to fill. A friend in the industry, you could say. Though, you take to thinking he probably wants more. 

“Mmm… ‘bout as good as any other this late into the season…” You hum, taking a sip from your half-full glass, “Never as good around this time of year.” 

Your sigh makes a gentle smile grow onto his plush lips, “Really? I thought you fell in love with every storm.” He lets out a quiet snort, swirling his own cup. His eyes seem to remain focused on you, though. 

“Of course I do. Everyone is perfect and special!” You declare a smile stretching back, “However, like every caring mother, I do have favourites.” 

“I don’t think– that’s not–” He laughs, “Aren’t parents not supposed to have favourites?”

“You really believe that Lie, Sung? Bold of you.”

“Well, do you have favourite pets?”

“Of course not!! How dare– okay, yeah. It’s the goldfish. His name is Guppie and he is my pride and joy. Named after my first love in elementary school~ imagine I let out a dreamy sigh here.”

His laugh makes your own come out as well, “Your first love was a… fish?”

“What, no?”

“They were named Guppie? … Like a fish…”

“Nickname, of course.” You giggle, girlish and cute. 

“Do you give nicknames to everyone then?” He moves his face closer in wonder, excitement, “What’s mine? You have to tell me.”

You hum, tapping your chin in contemplation, “I don’t know ‘Sung, nicknames are reserved for extra special people in my life…”

“Ah!” He clutches his chest, looking down before popping his head up. Puppy dog eyes, “I’m not extra special? You wound me (Y/n)! You really do! And I really thought we had something, I can’t believe this.” 

You laugh loudly at the dramatic act– emotions on the sleeve are so much more fun to display. You know he probably means none of it, but it’s still adorable. You can’t help but lean in closer, slapping his chest gently. 

“Shh! Shh! You’re too loud! Too loud! You’re extra special!” The conversation is easy, just as it always is with Jisung. Though it isn’t the same– you can’t help but notice that fact. It feels easy, smooth… though like there is a wall in the way of true connection. Like there is a way you are meant to act. Just like there always is. 

Always is with everyone but Yoongi. 

It’s strange. But something you’ve grown attached to. Fond of. 

He clears his throat behind you– think of the devil and he shall appear. Or however the saying goes. You’ve never been good with them, anyway. Your strengths and your faults, the simple facts have become all too aware of over time. Not that you mind them, of course. You just accept them as a fact of ‘you’. Just like your bubble, just like your impossible.

“Oh, hey!” Jisung is bright as always, giving a gentle wave to the man behind you. 

“Poongie!” You smile, your inebriated mind already attempting to wrap itself around his torso. It’s not your fault you already missed him!

Jisung erupts in a fit of giggles, “Poongie?! That’s his?!”

“Yep! Mixture of Pookie and Yoongi. He loves it.” He certainly does, but he would never admit it. Actually, he feels kind of odd right now. More… stiff than he was before he left. Like something… darker? Is radiating off of him. Though, it’s not actually dark. Just kind of… displeased. You can't seem to find the right word. 

“I can tell.” Jisung rolls his eyes, “He looks thrilled.” 

That only seems to further upset the man, his tail slowly curling around itself on instinct. Moving to find purchase on your waist. To pull you closer. To claim you. Sober thoughts slipping into a drunk mind, his actions freer than he normally allows them to be. 

Jealousy. That’s all he feels. Jealous that you just called someone who’s been openly hitting on you the entire season ‘extra special’. How fucking childish of him. He knows that even now, but he doesn’t want to stop. Everything that normally does feels as though they’ve gone into hibernation at this very moment.  

He just wants you. 

The next thing the Scorpion knows, he’s setting the drinks on the counter while you gaff away. Lifting you by your hips, sliding his form underneath yours with a grunt. Placing you on his lap and finally, making sure you’re secure to him with a hug of his tail around your midsection. 

He almost feels proud at your little squeal of surprise. At the blush on your cheeks. That’s right. He’s the only special one to you. This other man– other predator should know it. 

He knows he’ll regret this display in the morning. That he’ll feel utterly embarrassed by the whole thing. But right now Min Yoongi feels on top of the world. 

“Yoongi! What are you doing!” You hiccup out in surprise, trying to turn to face him. But he holds you still, holds you secure. Holds you safe just like he always makes sure you are. Gives you a response only by the shrug of his shoulders, his chin finding purchase in the crook of your neck. 

“W-well.. Fine then!” You huff, puffing out your cheeks just a little, “I’ll stay, but… just for a little! I’ll stay here for a little…” You grow a little quiet near the end, a little nervous. But you couldn’t feel more warm than in this moment. So heavenly. 

Jisung only laughs, what else is he meant to do anyway? A small, petulant part of Yoongi was hoping he’d run for the hills– he would with such aggressive scent marking. But then again, the other man is a human, probably doesn’t know anything about such a thing. 

The other part of Yoongi almost wants him to watch. Wants the other man to watch you drown in your own blush, watch as you learn more and more into the firm chest behind you. Feel the connection you two have that–

Oh, you’re laughing again too, what a pretty sound. The conversation picking up once again– Jisung is a conversationalist isn’t he. Yoongi almost wishes he was the same. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It makes people do drastic things. It makes Yoongi want to do even more drastic things. 

If only he was human. 

If he was human he'd do so much more. Would have already done so much more. But now, in his current state of being, he couldn’t handle it. He wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection. He knows it. Knows it in the way mother’s comfort their children after one look at his tail, and knows it in the way you look at storms. 

Yoongi isn’t a tornado. You would never look at him the same way you look at them. With such love and light in your eyes. 

But god he wants you to, he wants you to more than anything. He wants to be an option. He wants to be the center of your universe just like those dumb fuck storms are. He wants to be the wind that plays with your hair, the rain that kisses your skin. He wants to be the very thing that envelopes your entire consciousness just like those storms do. 

And maybe, just maybe if he presses himself close enough to you he can. He can pretend with the poison in his blood that you like him. He can be yours, even if it's only for a night.

He would always be yours. You never his’. 

And as the night ticks on, venom bubbling up every second that ticks, he feels himself becoming looser. Feels you melting into his grip as pretty drinks and florals fill your mind. Feels your scent starting to overpower his nose as his mind blurs with thoughts of you. Almost feels the tangle of souls joining in the way he’s always wished them to.  

“Yoonie..” You hum, fingers coming up loosely to move through his hair in a way they only do when the two of you are alone, “He went to get a drink, can let me go now…seats open.” 

He almost feels annoyed at your words, and you can’t help but let the disappointment of them bubble, too. You don’t want him to let you go. In fact, you’d be happy staying like this forever. But you know Yoongi, you know he doesn’t like to be so… affectionate in public. He’s one to show his love quietly, something else you’ve come to find endearing over the years you’ve spent by his side. 

Only, you don’t feel relieved movements like you expected to, no. While his arms go lax, his tail almost pulls tighter. The two sides of him fighting, arguing over what to do next. And next, next you feel something so warm. So soft against your neck that you don’t know what to do. 

Lips. His lips are against your neck. A gentle press to the side of the column robbing you of your ability to breath, ability to think. Normal affectionate pecks are common, sure, when the two of you have spent too long reaserching and analysing the your brains are working a little slower than they normally do, they might even be seen as common. But this kiss, this kiss was slow. It was languid. It was so much more. Everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“Have to?” His words are quiet, gruff. Lips moving against your neck as he talks. Spoken to you alone in the world, emboldened by the alluring mix of jealousy and alcohol. 

You shake your head, much emboldened by the same. He never has to let you go. 

“Good.” You feel your heart in your ears, ready to explode as he moves his arm back around you, back to your hip to hold you steady, “Mine.” 

Neither of you ever expected that single, life altering word to ever leave his lips.

“Y-Yours?” You can’t help yourself, you need to make sure you heard him right. Needed to make sure this whole thing wasn’t a dream. That his lips, slowly kissing along the ridge of your shoulder are real and not a figment of your imagination. 

Though he doesn’t say it again, doesn’t will himself to. Instead the sound you hear is something low, one you’ve never heard him use against you. A gentle growl lodged in the back of his throat, confirming it. Confirming everything for your head and your heart to hear. 

“Yours…” You try again, tilting your head to the side, giving him more room. He hums in assurance, in want. 

You think you could die happy. 

The impossible. The impossible is claiming you for himself. Is holding the heart of the love struck college student, the nervous new-hire, the assured scientist all in the palm of his hand. Is confirming your affections. Confirming the fire brewing deep in your belly. The coals that have been slowly and tenderly cared for over time. 

Yoongi and the storms– they’re both your impossible, your fate finding reality. 

“Y-Yoongi I—” He tilts your chin, cutting you off mid sentence. Passion alight beneath the subtle glow of amber that robs you of your words. Lets you know exactly what you need to. Makes the fire burst into flames as his fingers gently dig into your hip, makes your entire body heat as he rubs in gentle circles. 

“I don’t like him.” He grunts, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Keeps you from me.” 

“No one can keep me from you.” The reply is instant, your lips barely missing his. “You’re for me.”

God, and at that moment you know that the prettiest noise in the world is Yoongi’s quiet groan. The way his eyes close, the way he practically pulls you down into his lap sends you into overdrive. The way he slowly rolls his own up is enough to send you into a puddle of your former being. 

The rest of the world is gone, entirely melted away from reality. Now, now it’s just you and Yoongi. Cornered away from the rest of the bar, out of sight. Out of mind. Just his hands slowly moving your hips to be seated on just one of his thighs, his tail making sure you’re secure. Just your scent driving him crazy.

He can tell how wet you already are. He can tell how much you want him, just as he wants you. 

The contact is rough, a little maddening. His jeans pressing up against yours, the thin cotton of your panties not doing much to stop the harsh heat. But you don’t want it to stop. You want him to do whatever he wants. 

“You’re wet.” He isn't shy to admit it. Isn’t shy to admit the smell invading his nose. Isn’t shy to let you know exactly what it’s doing to him with the rock of your hips. Letting you feel something hard pressed right against your back. 

“Shut up…” You instantly complain, whining as you lean your back against his chest, further into his touch. He cracks a soft smile at your words, rocking you back and forth so slowly, so carefully. Letting you feel every flex of the muscle, every rough movement of the jean against your clit. Savouring every second now that the threat of the other man has dissipated. Taking his time in case all of this is a dream and he will have to give you up tomorrow. 

“Why? Not cute when I say it?” He chuckles, jumping his leg slightly off the ground, sending a wave through your body. A shock of pleasure to the system that has a gentle moan tumbling from your lips. That has your hips sending a gentle buck back. That has your brain feeling as though it might become mush.

Yoongi is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it. 

“Hey guys I…” Yoongi’s eyes find Jisung before your own do. Before the flushed expression on your face can quell and certainly before you can find a coherent thought. And suddenly the lazy foreplay in the corner of the bar is gone. Suddenly Yoongi is no more than an animal once again. 

“O-Oh! Jisung! S-sorry let me just–” You try, but there isn’t any use. No, Yoongi is pissed you even said his name. Pissed you tried to move away from him. Why would you try to move away from him? A predator with his m– prey being stolen right out from under him. A predator that has everything to gain and everything to lose. 

Yoongi isn’t thinking anymore as he stands, just barely keeping you upright as he pulls you away. Grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, locks the door once you’re both inside. 

Sanity is no longer present. Only the jealousy he feels inside. Only annoyance at the other man for trying to take you away from him. You said he was yours, that he was made for you. And the other predator dared try to take you? Take you from him when you were about to share something so sweet?

Yoongi knows he isn’t thinking right. Knows he might regret it in the morning– but he also knows if he doesn’t do something now he’ll regret it even more. For once, for once in his life he wants to be selfish. For once in his life he wants to forget he can’t ever have you because he’s a hybrid. For once he just wants you. 

You’d let him have you. Over and over again. For the rest of your lives. 

“Yoongi what are you–” He cuts you off with his lips against your own for he doesn’t know the answer. He’s letting himself just exist for once. Exist in the way he wants to without care. And all he wants right now is to kiss you. 

You couldn’t want anything more. Have been waiting your entire life to feel the press of his lips against your own. Kiss him back without a second thought– without reprieve. Let your mouth slip open easily for him, let everything get as messy as he wants. 

The time for gentle foreplay is over. No, now is the time to consume. 

Without a second thought he lifts you by your hips, your hands falling into place against his shoulder. Letting him lead, letting him take control as he fits his body against yours with such perfect harmony. Nobody would doubt you’re two pieces of the same puzzle, ready to fit together for the rest of eternity. 

He groans when he feels your hips press against his, as he feels your heat seep through layers of clothing. Cusses when he finally pulls back, sees the saliva collected at the corner of your lips. The hazy look in your eye that tells him you need him just as much as he needs you. That you want him so terribly you can’t help but fall against him for love, for safety. 

It’s just the alcohol.

Yoongi practically growls at his own thoughts, his tail rising in defence, in defiance against his own brain. Forcing the thoughts away, forcing everything away other than your body in the room. Other than your desire in the room. 

When his mind is no longer clouded he can come to terms with all of this, come to terms with his feelings and shove them so far back down they’ll never see the light of day– but now, right now he needs this. Needs it more than anything. 

“Want you.” He grunts, his knees falling onto the dirty bathroom floor. His hands splay against your thighs, feeling them. Worshipping the skin as if it is an altar. As if you’re his religion. “Can I?”

He doesn’t have to ask, he doesn’t need to. He would never have to ask you. Every single time you’d fall for the storm that is Min Yoongi. Over and over again. As if it’s as easy as breathing, as easy as thinking. 

The answer is even easier now– as your heart beats in your ears, as arousal pools in your gut. As his blunt fingernails dig themselves ever so slightly into your flesh, begging for entry. Begging for you to just give in. His cheeks a flush, his hair already a wreck. His chest rising and falling and thinking just for you. 

He looks like a god. 

“W-want you.” Your stutter makes you feel meak, but his groan of approval makes you feel strong. Makes you feel like your bubble has been popped, like the world finally has meaning past tornados and cataclysms. 

He takes your approval without any grace. Without a second to even think before he’s pulling your pants down with such hunger, such carnal need. His throat releases a groan of desire as your scent hits him at full force, as you give yourself to him. 

He can’t help himself as he presses his face against your panties, his nose right against your clit as he inhales. Takes in all of you for himself. Lets himself be greedy. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You squeak in surprise, the noise tapering into a whine. How could he do something so embarrassing! What is wrong with–

You can’t even finish the thought before his fingers pull your panties to the side, his eyes focused directly on your wet, needy cunt. “Smell good.” 

If you weren’t entirely red before, you certainly are now. There is no way you couldn’t be. Not with the hunger in his eyes. The fire in your belly. 

His tongue darts out, licking your pussy directly without a second thought. Parting your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Tasting you, basking in everything you. Listening to the pretty little moan that comes from your parted lips. Falling apart without a second thought. 

And suddenly he’s hungry. Hungrier than he’s ever been in his entire life. Hungry in a way that he’s sure can only be satiated by you. By making you his. 

“Fuck, (Y/n)...” He almost sounds more affected than you are, like he could cum from your taste alone. But he can’t, he won’t let himself. He wants, needs to be inside of you more than everything. Needs to fuck you, consume every part of you like he so selfishly craves. 

“Gotta get you ready…” He’s talking to himself more than to you as he stands again, trying to keep himself from succumbing to the scorpion screaming at him to just claim you as his. He can only be selfish for tonight. This night. “You gonna be quiet for me? Can’t get caught.”

“Please…” Your voice is practically a whimper, practically begging him to just do something, anything. And who is he to deny you of such simple pleasures? Especially when you whine just for him, moan just for him. Jut your hips out ever so slightly to present yourself just to him. 

His thumb finds your clit almost instantly as you call out to him. Rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves with quick, fast precision while another digit presses against your leaking hole. Preparing you, getting you ready for the intrusion. 

Your voice is a siren’s song, and Yoongi then knows why pirates used to get lost at sea. Used to become entrapped by the mermaids that sang for them. He feels himself going crazy now, as your head tilts back. As your cunt flutters around nothing, begging him to slide his finger inside just as you both desperately crave. 

A buck of your hips is all he needs to fuck the digit inside, trusting it in and out slowly. Making sure it goes as deep as it can before curling and slowly retracting. Increasing pace with the volume of your sounds, with the circle of your clit. Combining sensation, driving you further and further into the clouds with every movement. 

It is then you know that his hands are a deadly poison, one you know you will fall apart to. Especially with the gentle sounds of his grunts, with the push of a second finger into your hole. With his heated gaze focused on nothing but how well you’re taking him, how you’re stretching so prettily around his fingers. 

You place your hand over your mouth, try to keep your moans to a minimum. Try to suppress every little sound that threatens to spill past your lips. Yet you can’t help it, how could you when he knows exactly where to curl his fingers? When they press right against that little bundle of nerves inside. When they rub against you so perfectly. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You accidentally shout, your hips bucking in surprise. The band growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen. Your eyes clouding with pleasure as your head feels lighter and lighter. 

He only smirks, gentle and sinful. “Found it.” 

He thrusts his fingers back in the exact same way, their pace hurried. Concise. Locating that exact same spot over and over again, curling his fingers up just right. Timing the strokes perfectly with a roll of your clit. You feel like you could scream, you’re going to scream.

“Y-You’re so mean!” You whimper, the hand on your clit moving to hold your thighs down. To resist your messy bucking. Resist your adorable begging for more. This other thumb moving to press against your clit instead. 

Then you see it, see the pretty brown thing that had you so enamoured to begin with. Remember just how sensitive it was when you touched it first, and just how mean he’s being to you now. 

With all the clarity you have left in your little brain you reach for his tail, hold it in your tiny hands. Whimper at how big it is, how strong it feels. How much it protects you. And without a second thought, you wrap your lips around the tip of it and moan. Using it as a gag, using it to stop your cries. 

Yoongi suddenly tenses below you, his entire frame shifting as your mouth sucks on the tip. Your eyes closed in concentration, little tears bubbling up in the corners as you whine around him. Fully focused on your pleasure, the feeling of his fingers inside of you– so close to falling apart. 

He thinks he could cum at that second. He’s sure of it. 

A choked groan leaves his own lips as his fingers resume their pace, his senses going into overdrive. No longer thinking, no longer able to do anything but act. But take and take and give and give until there's nothing left.

And god he wants to burn this picture into his brain. Wants to cement it into the rest of his thoughts, his very being. His movements are messier, faster as he fucks his fingers into your cunt. Doesn’t care about the noise as his tail moves on its own, slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your g-spot battered, you clit burning with pleasure. 

Sounds that resemble words fall deaf on your tongue as the band finally breaks, as the world around you spins. As you find euphoria from Yoongi’s fingers. The eye of the storm befalling your very being as electricity moves down your spine as the winds subside. 

You’re left panting in front of him, your walls tightening as he slowly coaxes you through it. Helps you feel every ounce of pleasure that you deserve. Kisses your shoulder gently, softly, watching you come down from your high. 

You can only whine at the affection, the fog lifting for a brief second as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You feel so empty– too empty. You still want him. You still want so much more. 

You try to say his name, try to vocalise but it only sends vibrations down his tail. A groan leaving his lips, heat still heavy in his eyes. You realise his tail is still moving, still slowly moving in and out of your mouth. You know he isn’t finished.

You know you never want him to be. 

You raise your leg up, kicking, trying to push his pants down. Begging them to just drop a little lower. To get his cock out so he can fuck you properly. So he can make you feel so much more full of everything him. 

He lets out a chuckle of a scoff, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as he shakes his head, “Needy.” He grunts, yet he feels the exact same way. Removing his tail from your mouth, finally letting you speak. Ignoring the way his heart hammers at the sight of your puffy, glossed lips. 

“Shut up.” Is the only reply you can muster, hands quickly moving to try and shove his pants down. To try and get him inside of you. He just smiles, the predatory glint never leaving his eyes. The dig of his nails never leaving your thigh. 

Finally, with your messy attempts you urge them down, force the annoying material down his thighs, his boxers moving right along with it. And fuck, you can’t help but gawk. Can’t help but whine because shit, you’ve never seen a cock so pretty! What the hell! That isn’t fair! None of this is fair and he hates you!

“You hate me.” You whimper, letting him take the lead once again. Following as he slowly leans you back, manoeuvres your hips in exactly the way he wants. Presents your puffy, fluttering cunt just for him. Messy and aching, desperate for more. 

“Maybe.” He smiles, teasing you. He’s teasing you! Can you believe that! You certainly can’t, a whine and a gentle smack to his chest telling him everything he needs to hear. Yet you’re forgetting about it all too quickly as you feel the head of something hard gently press against your lips.

In your hazed stupor, you completely missed the action. The way he gripped his cock in his hands, the languid strokes he’s made up and down the length. The way he flicked his thumb over the head just before he decided to so sinfully trace it along your slit. Teasing himself, tracing around your hole with the head. You think he might kill you. 

He thinks much of the same. 

“I’m on birth control.” You messily squeak out of the blue, eyes trained between your bodies where he’s so close. So very close to fucking himself inside. Into being exactly where you want him. Snapping that final line you two could never come back from. 

His eyes dart up to your face, something dark in the iris. Something neither of you address as he finally lets go of his last bit of reserve. As his lips slam into yours, consuming your very being. 

His hand finds your leg, pulling it up, resting it against his hip to draw you closer. In one single thrust drawing all the air out of your lungs, removing all thoughts from your head as he thrusts his entire length inside. Filling you, stretching you in the most perfect way. In a way you never imagined another person could do.

Your cries are drowned by his lips, his own curses lost in the same. The stretch, the burn is subtle, yet you could never want anything less. Anything more than the euphoric feeling of Yoongi feeling your ever being. 

“Shit…” He finally lets himself breathe, let himself have a moment to feel you. Feel your plush walls wrapped around his length, feel you fluttering around him so perfectly. You’re going to make him insane. 

He pants softly, trying to wait– trying to hold himself back from fucking you so hard you can’t walk. So hard he’ll have to carry you out of this shitty bar. So that everyone will know what the two of you did. Just who you belong to. 

You give an experimental wiggle of your hips, a signal to move. A signal to stop holding back. The only signal that he needs. 

“Yoongi!” The cry is loud, but he can’t seem to care anymore. The pace he takes is anything but slow. It's fast, hard. Rushed. Like he can’t wait a single second longer. Can’t waist a fucking millisecond doing anything else other than laying claim to your soul. 

His hips snap against your own, his cock practically hitting your cervix with every thrust. His cock pressed against that same bundle inside every time he draws back, every time he fills you again and again. It’s messy– messy and so wet. So perfect. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He mutters to himself, damp hair falling into his eyes, “Have to be quick, gonna fuck you hard, okay?” 

He drawls, scratchy. Rough. Pressing his hips fully against yours, fully feeling your slick heat. The lewd noises bouncing against the walls, filling the space. Sending a symphony into your strumming ears. Into your already worn out frame. 

You nod in agreement quickly, almost dumbly as you try to fall into a rhythm. Try to meet his movements the best you can. It feels pointless, all of it does. Trying to do anything feels so pointless when he’s fucking you so relentlessly. Like he’s waited his entire life for this moment and he’d rather die than waste another second.

Fucking you like it means something. Like you mean everything.

“Shit, (Y/n). So fucking wet.” He groans, his head rolling back, no longer able to look at the mess between your legs, “So needy.” 

You whine, shaking your head. Trying to gain a semblance of reality when it feels like it has been shattered in the most beautiful way.

“Sh-Shut up!” You whine, your walls clenching around his cock, “A-Am! Am not!” 

Your denial sends a wave of something through Yoongi. Something that makes him growl, that makes his sight darken just a bit more. 

“You’re not?” He scoffs, his eyes finding your own, reading you like an open book, “Little fucking liar.” 

His pace changes, taking shape into a different beast entirely. Something new. His thrusts turn from messy, hurried to sharp and precise– the pace never changing. Every single thrust knocking the wind from your lungs, changing the very shape of your DNA to scream for him and only him.

“Y-Yoongi what the fuck?!” You whine, your head knocking back, hitting the glass behind you. Even more of your brain cells scrambling, trying to stay in reality. Trying not to float off in the great beyond where Yoongi wants you to stay. 

“Hmm?” He grunts, his eyes focused back downwards. Right to where your slick coats him, to where a pretty white ring has formed around the base. He won’t last long. Even if he wants to keep fucking you forever, he knows he’s done for. “Thought you weren’t needy.”

You whine, unable to stop the band from pulling tight in your gut once again. Unable to stop the pleasure from coursing through your veins. Already a wreck– your body warm with sweat and your hole fluttering uselessly around him. Trying to draw him back in over and over.

Never get him to leave. 

His voice is suddenly in your ear, far closer than you remember him being. Far closer than you can manage him being. Fuck, and now his thumb is pressing against your clit again. You don’t know what you can do, what to do. 

“You can cum if you just admit it, human.” You’re going insane. “Tell me how fucking needy you are for me. C’mon, do it. I know you can.” 

It’s over for you. You had no clue Yoongi could ever be like this, no clue just how much you’d want it. How much you’d love it. Even as tears bubble in the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, even as your hips buck up weakly to meet his thrusts. As his cock makes you feel like you’re about to enter the pearly gates. 

You know you love it. 

“Y-Yoongi!” You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders with so much strength you think they might bruise. Hell, you’re sure he’s bruised your hips. There isn’t much difference. “I-I!” 

“Mhmm..” He hums, sounding entirely unaffected on the surface, yet it’s clear he’s falling apart just as much as you. Clear in the way his hips stutter so slightly, losing their pace. Clear in the way he holds you tighter and tighter. The way his tail curls possessively around your leg. “You can do it. Say it, human.”

“I-I’m needy!” You whine, forgetting your volume, “I-I need you, Yoongi!” 

Just like that, he’s tumbling off the edge. Your words acting as an anchor, as the very thing he’s wanted to hear for years. His hips stuttering inside of you, filling your cunt with his cum without a second thought. 

“Cum, pretty thing.” His voice is guttural. A command as your legs lock around him. His thumb never giving your clit reprise.  while he doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb. Your own release finding you the second you feel his cock twitch inside of you, the moment you feel his cum leak inside. 

Winds swirl at your very being. Lifting you higher and higher into the clouds as your walls clench around him. Milking him for everything, for all he’s worth. Making sure every drop lands inside, making sure you stay nice and full of him while your head wanders into the clouds. While every bit of your being feels fireworks. 

Your legs don’t even let go as the two of you slowly begin to calm down. As your heart rates try to return to normal and air returns to your lungs. As Yoongi’s length slowly begins to soften inside of your cute, worn little cunt. 

You don’t want to let go. You never want to let go. 

His grip slowly softens on your hip. Thumb working to rub slow, gentle circles in their place. His lips finding the column of your throat once more– gentle, nipping kisses find home over the marks he left while sitting at the bar. Not any real bonding  marks like his scorpion may have wanted, but pretty red things that claim your skin in a human way. 

Your fingers find his strands, knotting themselves in them. Keeping his head where it belongs. You’ve never felt more loved, more wanted in this moment. 

You never want it to end. 

“Needy…” He smiles to himself, shaking his head softly. His hair tickles your ear. “Can’t believe you actually said it.” 

“Y-you!” You try, realising how severely you’re still out of breath. You hate how quickly he’s bounced back. “You made me! You ass!” 

He only smiles, shaking his head. Still in complete and utter disbelief that this is real, “I wanted to hear it. You were cute.” 

Your legs finally relax when you whine. They easily fall on either side of him, kicking slightly in petulance as he pulls away from your cunt. Removing himself from you, smiling as his cum starts to collect at your opening. 

This still all has to be a dream for him, it has to be. 

“You hate me!” You repeat again, warmth coming to your cheeks once more as his hands find your cunt. One thump pulling your lip open, letting him see just how much of a mess he’s made you. Letting him watch as his cum drips from your core. 

“Maybe.” He can’t help the fond glow in his eyes as he kisses your cheek. A thought coming to the forefront of his brain that he forces back. Another thought he could never let surface, not even now as you’re stuffed with his cum. 

His scorpion still preens all the same, though. Filled with thoughts of kids. Thoughts Yoongi, the human, not the scorpion, would never say aloud. Drunk, tipsy, or sober. 

He reaches for the dispenser, grabbing a few paper towels before turning on the sink and running them under. Not the best tool, but it will do. 

“Well, I don’t hate you…” You’re blushing as you say the words, almost embarrassed without real reason to be. What you just did, it was so much more than ‘I don’t hate you.’ At least, it wasn’t to you. You hope it wasn’t for him either. 

You help him with his pants, reaching your hands down and pulling them up slowly for him, “I don’t hate you either.” He rolls his eyes, gently cleaning the space between your legs. 

“Awkward if you did.” You huff, lifting your hips as he moves your underwear back in place. Stay hovering as he slides your jeans back up as well. 

He leaves a gentle press against your temple, offering you a hand as you hop off the counter. Hips and legs already entirely too sore, a whine shedding your throat as you let him know the pain. All while he only laughs, patting your butt as he helps you walk.

The picture of domesticity. 

Neither of you address the elephant in the room, both for entirely different reasons. For radically different realities. The morning would be better anyway, you surmise. With fluid thoughts and no liquor in your system. 

You assume Yoongi feels the same way as you both walk home. Gentle shoulders and banter thrown around as casually as ever. The only solid thing the both of you know: you can never go back to that bar again.

God, your fucking head hurts. Maybe?? Maybe everything hurts? When the hell did the sun get so loud?! Since when did light feel like fucking screaming, man?! This isn’t fair! Nothing is fair and the world hates you! Exclusively you, and no one but you!

No, that’s not true. That’s completely illogical, actually. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. Especially when your head is buzzing and your stomach is already growling for some kind of food. 

Oh god, food would be so good right now. Warm steamy pancakes, eggs, some kind of potato with a dash of Yoongi to eat it with like you do every morning. 

Suddenly, the other side of the bed feels entirely too cold. Freezing. A void empty where the warmth you felt last night should reside.

He fell asleep there, you're sure of it. You remember the feeling of his arms around you, the soft snores that left his lips after you both stumbled into bed. Barely getting undressed before falling into your bed. You remember everything about last night. So much so that you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at the memory. The thought of everything done in that dingy bathroom, all the words spoken, the care professed. 

Even if you were tipsy, you would never forget it. You would never regret it. Were waiting to wake up in his arms to make everything official– a long overdue conversation that would finally set in motion your lives together. 

So where the hell is he?

A pout forms on your lips as you stretch, your body too tight for the morning and even more so for your search. The soreness in your hips, the bruises he left from his grip a brutal reminder of his absence as you sit up, your eyes squinting as you scope the scene.

You don’t think you like what you see– it’s a weird feeling, honestly. His bag is gone, his shoes are gone, his clothes are gone. For the first time in all the years you’ve known him, he feels utterly gone. Not a speck of him in your room, not a single sign he was even on this trip with you. 

Does he regret…

The frown pulls deeper as you reach for your phone. You definitely don’t like this feeling. Like he wasn’t even there to begin with after everything that just happened. 

“Ah, stop it.” You say to yourself, one of your hands coming up to gently pat your cheek. You hate where your brain is going so quickly. Maybe you’re just a sop that needed more aftercare than he knew about– yeah, that's probably it. He probably just wanted to go back to his own room and shower before you had to work today. See, that makes much more sense, doesn’t it? You nod your head, almost in agreement with your thoughts. Set on your decision, on the most-likely-possible solution. 

[9:27am] To: Poongie

> Goodmorning :> I hope you slept well 

> Did you wanna go get breakfast at the diner? I think I’m dying and only hashbrowns can fix me unfortunately 

You wish you could say you weren’t affected– wish you could say you weren’t sitting there, waiting for a response. Heart beating out of your chest like a schoolgirl in love. It’s silly, isn’t it? What emotions can make you feel inside and out. How they can seem to affect every part of your being without even trying. 

You suppose storms are the same way. Suppose all natural forces are– the sun, the moon, the stars. They all have their own cosmic power that distils someone at their very core. Leaving them waiting, abating in agony over a simple text back from the man you like. 

You toss your phone to the side, choosing to get ready instead of imagining anymore fantasies. You live in reality, a woman of science. There’s no sense in trying to explain everything you feel, only accepting that you feel it. 

Mmm. As you get dressed, you wonder how long you’ll be able to go on like that for. 

[10:02] From: Poongie

> gm

> i already ate

Oh. You don’t like that. In fact, you hate it so much you want to start making a powerpoint presentation on how to text just for him. But, you give him the benefit of the doubt once more. Yoongi has never been a good texter, anyway. You’re lucky if you can get more than a two word reply from him. He prefers phone calls. 

[10:03] To: Poongie

> So u hate me okay

> Come sit with me tho, I don’t want to look like a loser

> Meet me down there in 5 ;P

You give a soft smile as he reacts to your final text with a thumbs up. It doesn’t leave you feeling the best, but he’s not avoiding you entirely. And he never has been a morning person. Plus, he’s probably hungover too and doesn’t wanna look at his phone screen. You two are fine and last night was amazing. And soon you could make everything official. 

Your smile grows. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes perfect sense. 

You know what doesn’t? A lot of things, actually. Too many to count, but you try anyway. 

One. 

Yoongi walking in 10 minutes late acting like nothing happened. Like you didn’t happen. Just sliding into the seat across from yours, the thick plastic of the booth squeaking while he does so. His hands stuffed in his pants, nothing but a nod in your direction to acknowledge your existence. His face utterly blank, entirely neutral. 

Never once has Yoongi greeted you with less than a gummy smile. A ruffle of your hair. A jab at your tired appearance. But you ignore it– ignore the sense of unease, of dread already building inside. He must really have a bad hangover, poor guy. 

“Goodmorning!” You chirp brightly, a smile of a thousand suns cast in only his direction. Your usual greeting, of course. Maybe just a little extra chipper to balance him out. To try and prepare yourself, maybe to get a little excited for the conversation to come. Pull him out of any awkward tension he may be feeling. 

“Goodmorning.” He simply replies back, his eyes following the waitress as she places a cup of coffee, extra sweet, in front of him. His usual order. Something you’d never forget. Something he knows you’d never forget, but the way he stares into the warm liquid says otherwise. 

His eyes never stray from the cup, like he's thinking. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how. Like he isn’t sure whether to ignore it or bring it to light. 

You know that look well, and you don’t want to ignore it. 

Two. 

He calls the waitress back and orders another coffee. Black. 

He hates his coffee black. You know this. Everyone does. He hasn’t had the stuff since before he met you. You opened him to the world of how delicious sweet drinks can be. So why the hell is he planning on pretending to like something he doesn’t? It makes no sense to you– your expression shows it all. Eyebrows quirking together, lips pushing outwards slightly. 

“Wow, the great Min Yoongi is changing up his order?” A creature of habit never does, you would know yourself, “Hangover that bad?” 

You try to lighten the mood, raise the cloud that hangs above the booth. Or maybe it’s a cloud only you feel, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway, does it? 

“Mmm, you could say that.” He grunts, his chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail curling closer. Almost defensive. Almost.

“God yeah,” The conversation feels stunted, and you hate that even more. “My head has been throbbing since I woke up. I don’t know if I drank too much or not enough.” The banter isn’t flowing as easily, and he curls in on himself even more. Almost like the mere mention of last night rings alarm bells in his mind. 

Oh! Okay, yeah. Maybe he’s just nervous about everything that happened, you know? Maybe he’s worried that you don’t remember, or that you’re having different feelings about it. Maybe his brain is playing the same tricks on him that trickled into your consciousness that morning! 

Yeah, okay. That makes so much more sense now that you think about it. You have to stop beating around the bush, just come out and say everything you think. Everything you feel and you can talk about it. You’ll just bring it up– he obviously isn’t going to, but then you’ll be in a relationship by the time your pancakes come out! Perfect! 

Yet as you look up at him, find his face utterly void of anything, your confidence wanes. 

Three.

He’s refusing to look at you. Another thing he never does. You’re always the one to avoid eye contact, never him. You’re always the one to stare out the window, not him. He normally looks at you. Normally basks in you. 

You feel your mouth drying, all words becoming lost on your tongue the longer you stare at his disposition. You don’t break it as the silence becomes awkward, as he doesn’t try to do anything to fix it. Simply sips at his coffee. His disgusting coffee. 

Drinks it until it empties. Until the pancakes now in front of you remain nearly untouched and cold. Until the world stops spinning and time freezes. As the comet hits and the world ends. As society descends into chaos yet you can’t do anything but look at him. 

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating. But that’s exactly how it feels for some strange reason. How it feels to be unable to reach him. 

It isn’t until he grabs his coat, sliding $30 across the table that you finally gain the courage to speak. Finally blurt out the words sitting on the tip of your tongue for the last 20 minutes. 

“We should talk about last night.” You didn’t expect to say anything honestly, shocked at the air leaving your lungs. 

And finally, finally he looks at you. The diner is still frozen, yes, but now he’s looking at you and for some reason that’s all that matters.

A deep drag of air fills his lungs as he sags his shoulders, rigid disposition weakening in attempt to show signs of aloof. His tail gives everything away. Sharp and pointed. Unnerved. 

“What is there to talk about?” 

Oh. 

“What?” You feel blood leave your face, “Everything. There’s everything to talk about.” 

He sighs, his eyes almost rolling at your words. Everything he does is ten times louder. Ten times greater than any storm, any power in the entire universe. 

Four. 

“Listen, (Y/n). Last night was a mistake, okay?”

Oh.

Is it possible for the Earth to stop rotating around the sun? For the moon to find home in another planet? Is it possible for the rings of Saturn to disband, to crack and shatter, leaving the planet feeling hollow? No more than a gaseous ball floating around an unyielding core forcing it to stay together?

It has to be. Because if it’s possible for Yoongi to say those very words, say the very words that are able to rip your soul from your body, you think anything is. 

You feel something in you crack. Something so fragile and innocent that you want to protect it with your everything. Run far and hide. Nurse it alone until it stops kicking and screaming for its unending pain to yield. For it to have rest in a world that only seems to take and take and take. 

“What?” You don’t even care that your voice cracks. 

He sighs again, his gaze dropping to the table. “I just don’t think there’s anything to talk about, okay?”

“There’s a lot to talk about.” Your eyebrows crinkle, your mouth moving into a frustrated frown. Red isn’t a colour you feel often, but your walls are up. Your bubble now a sphere frozen in time– a place with room for no one but you. Your body curled around that innocent glow. Protecting it. Keeping it warm. “For one, calling it a mistake.” 

He’s rigid again too, maybe red glowing around his form as well. But you can’t seem to care. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Not able to sense the danger. The tail pointed in your direction. Venom dripping from his lips.

“Wasn’t it? We’re friends (Y/n). One stupid night shouldn’t change that shit.” It changes fucking everything. Especially with your pining. Especially with your heart on your sleeve. With your affections for him always oh-so-fucking obvious. 

“Like hell it–” He cuts you off. 

“We’re done with this conversation. Just forget last night ever happened.” He stands, not planning on waiting around anymore. Not waiting for you anymore. “Just act like it never did. Nothing has to change. We’re not talking about this anymore.” 

With that he leaves without letting you speak. Without letting you talk. Shutting you down entirely in a way he never has before. In a way he promised he would never do to you. And for the first time since you discovered your crush on him, you feel something negative simmering for Min Yoongi. 

Q/Hybrids_Humans 

U/YGS_Min  •  posted 5y ago

Can Hybrids and Humans actually fall in love? -> Advice

> Hi. I’m new to this page so I might get things wrong with this post. Sorry in advance if I do. 

> I am a Hybrid and I recently met a girl who I think is my mate. I get all the classic mate feelings someone does when I’m around her. When we first met, a few days ago in the library, I automatically felt a pull towards her. Like I needed to be close to her. Everything in my body, my hybrid side especially, was begging for me to make her my mate right away. She even complimented my tail. Does she even know what that means? What it did to me?

> After that, she gave me her number (I’m helping her with a few things) (we're both ‘in’ college) and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Whenever I open my phone my brain automatically fries and moves to open her contact so I can text or call her. It actually feels a little crazy. 

> She said she wants to be friends and I don’t know what my brain is going to do if we actually get closer. 

>The issue is that she's human, though. So I already know she doesn’t feel the same way about me. She doesn’t feel the bond or the pull to get closer. And she already knows I’m a hybrid so there’s no way to avoid it. 

> I’m also not the most friendly Hybrid, I guess. People don’t like my species. My mom doesn’t even like the way I was born. And I’m lucky enough to get away from where I was before and am living my own life now. Trying to do good things with it. Maybe be human with it, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. 

> Point is, I’ve looked online and while I know legally it is possible to be mates with a human, I haven’t found anything about Human’s with more odd species. And I really just want to know if this could be possible, or if I should give up before things even start. She’s the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. Her mannerisms kill me– I love them. She’s so cute. And she acted like I was just like everyone else. 

> I don’t know. I want her to be my mate. But I just want to know other peoples experiences. I know she’d never be able to love me in the way I automatically do her, but if I told her she was my mate would she feel forced into it? Would she feel like I actually care? Could she ever actually care? Should I do anything about it or just pretend that it was never there in the first place? 

> I never thought my mate might be human. I never thought I'd find my mate. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks. 

6 am. 

Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s slept. He’s not sure he’s ever slept with the exhaustion weighing on his bones. His consciousness. His very being. In fact, all he’s had is his thoughts as the hours have ticked by, unrelenting. Unwavering. As the sun starts to shine through the curtains and the reality of everything that transpired rushes to the surface. Past the alcohol. Past your adorable soft snores. 

He had you. He fucked you. For one night, you belonged to him. 

The first thing he felt after he held you in bed was peace. Complete and utter satisfaction with life, with you. Everything itching at him, pulling him towards you was, for once, content. He no longer felt the burning in his heart or the pulling at his skin to get you closer. The fuzziness in his brain whenever you smiled. All of it was gone. There was nothing but happiness in his being. 

Nothing but the ideas of his dream being true. Of getting to hold you like this every night. Getting you to smile for him, only him. Getting to belong to you in ways humans could never understand. 

In ways you could never understand. 

Something else starts creeping into his consciousness, then. Something starting in the pit of his stomach, rising until it feels like he's choking. Until not even the scent of your shampoo can calm the race of his heart. Not even the pull of his tail drawing you closer to his body– his hybrid side trying to calm him down in ways it only knows how. 

How could Yoongi let himself live in such a sick dream? 

You’re a human. He’s a hybrid. You would never actually love him. 

Your words were drunk– of course they were. Influenced by the alcohol and the idea of a warm body next to your own. Maybe you didn’t even realise it was him, maybe it could have been anyone and you would have been satisfied. 

It’s such an ugly thing, the words he thinks. The ideas that form behind his skull, twisting and turning. Forming an amalgamation of tangles and death defying drops to nothingness. Of the reality of things, his reality that is. One where he’s worthless. One where you are the sun and he is nothing but an asteroid following the orbit of someone else. 

Hybrids are never meant to be with humans. 

He knows that for a fact. Has read all the history books, looked at all the articles, scoured for any sign that the two of you could be together in a society that hates him only to be left with mockery. Left with anonymous strangers telling him that scorpions are meant to kill. Meant to destroy. How could a human ever care about him when his entire life he’s been told it’s the worst parts of himself? How could you care about him?

Well, he knows that isn’t all true. He knows you care in some ways. But they aren’t mate ways and–

Fuck. Fuck Yoongi, he knows he’s not supposed to think of those things. He’s never allowed to think of you and that word together. He forbade himself of it. Promised himself it couldn’t be true. That he would never admit it to you or anyone else. 

You are not his mate. 

But you are. 

But–

He wishes he could get his head to shut the fuck up for a fucking second so he could think. Think about anything other than those two words together, even if he knew them to be true from the moment he met you in the library. When he agreed to be your tutor. When he fell in love the moment you looked his way. 

And even then he thought that maybe, just maybe if you didn’t know he was a hybrid he would have a chance. That if he could keep it hidden for long enough, if you saw him as a human and not a terrifying creature bred only to kill, that you could fall for him. That he could be your mate– boyfriend. That he could be your boyfriend. 

But then you saw it. Saw the fucking thing he wishes he never had, wishes he could live without. The very thing he has been hated for his entire life. His genetic abnormality, originally bred to be used for attack, used by the government to kill. The very piece of his being he rejects time and time again to try and just feel a little more normal, a little more human. And you… you said you liked it. 

And no, you didn’t have any clue what those words meant at the time. Of course you didn’t. Didn’t know what they implied– didn’t know the true meaning they held. The acceptance of courtship behind their very tone. 

A nice tail to a human? Nothing. A nice tail to a scorpion? The very thing used by the hybrid to attract mates? To show their viability and strength as a partner? Everything. 

In that moment, you were everything. 

But you didn’t know the meaning behind those words. You didn’t love him the way he so implicitly did you. And while you accepted him as a friend, you would never accept him as more. He would never let you. 

That night was the night he promised himself you weren’t his mate. Promised himself he had no mate. 

Last night was the first time he ever broke it. 

Last night he could have killed you. 

You had his tail in your mouth. His tail. The tail that carries his venom. The venom bred into his cells meant to kill others. If he let any of it out by accident… if he…

Fuck. 

The heaviness that realisation brings is what finally makes him get out of bed. Finally set in motion reality. Stop himself from living in whatever dream he was playing with. Stop playing house with a girl that would never be his. That would probably think the entirety of last night was a mistake. 

Who gives a shit what you thought. He could’ve killed you. He could’ve killed his fucking mate.

Societally, he could’ve never had you. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you had to face the same things he did on the daily. What others thought of you. What they would say about you if they saw you two together. What would happen with your kids. How much hate and fear you would receive by being with him. 

He could sacrifice his own life for you a thousand times, but he would never let you do the same for him.

And last night. Last night his venom could’ve been your end. 

He doesn’t need to think anymore. He knows what he’s going to do. Even if it hurts him. Even if the grenade is set to go off and destroy his very being, it’s worth it to keep you safe. To keep you content. To keep you away from him.

Best case, you don’t remember last night or don’t bring it up. Worst…

Yoongi knows the ship he’s boarding is bound to sink– that he’s destined to drown. But if it means your happiness, he’d do anything.

The car feels cold. The heat is blasting, but it still feels frozen. Decrepit. All fireplace memories hazing into ice as you ride next to him. 

Him.

Fucking him.

Fucking Min Yoongi. The fucking asshole that tore your heart out and stomped on it. The fucking asshole that didn’t even have the decency to talk to you. To explain why the fuck he was being so cold. The fucking asshole that made you feel loved. Like you weren’t alone in the entire universe, only to make you realise you were trapped in a metal box– steaming. Bubbling.

Maybe you aren’t cold. No, you definitely aren’t. You’re steaming. Burning up– ready to explode at the slightest thing. Still a burning blaze because he didn’t fucking let you talk. Just shut you down without a second thought. Without fucking anything.

Not that he owes you anything– he doesn’t owe you a relationship. He doesn’t owe you love, of course not. You’re not dumb enough to think that. But you do know he owes you an explanation. A chance to speak. Years of friendship tell you that much. 

Promises tell you that much. 

And you can’t fucking stand broken promises. Can’t stand acting like strangers after years of friendship. After all the time spent together. After all of the memories formed, all the bonds created. You don’t deserve to be treated like nothing. 

Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even come with you today if you hadn’t texted him. Probably assumed you’d rather go alone or with one of the other people on the crew. Probably– shut up, you decide in that moment to stop making excuses for him. To stop giving him the benefit of the doubt when he treated you as no less than a one-night-stand. A fuck that meant nothing. 

Were fucking years of friendship just for that? Just so he could fuck you? This fucking–

You scoff to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. Shaking your head. An outloud reaction to the continued spiral that started this morning, that will continue to brew until it inevitably boils over. Until the pot filled with too much water gets too hot and just boils over. 

You never have been able to keep your opinions in. Open book pages laid out for the world to see. Another reason you’ve always been alone– should have stayed alone in your bubble. 

“What?” Oh, he wants to talk to you now? 

Your eyes shoot over to his figure from the corner of your eye. You can’t believe that yesterday you were smiling at him. You hate that today a piece of you still frets at the trapping of his fingers against the wheel. At his apparent aloof demeanour is automatically disillusioned by the simple movement indicating his nerves. 

He always does that when he knows a big storm is coming– when he’s worried about safety, your safety. When he's concerned about whatever events are going to follow. A tick tick tick, fingers tapping delicately one after the other. Not a harsh grab against the wheel, not an unease of temperament. Yoongi, even when nervous or agitated, has always been gentle. 

Well, every time except for this morning. 

You roll your eyes. 

As much as you hate how self destructive you become in times like these, you hate the bubbling feeling even more. Hate the strong emotion that floods your veins, the same one that makes you feel oh-so weak. The same one that makes you need to be strong. Need to be more.

Maybe you wish you could be more like Yoongi– be entirely unaffected by the strong feelings that permeate your being. Maybe you wish you could act as ‘chill’ as him. To separate how you feel from who you are. To be calm even if you want to be brash. 

But you can’t. Not when it's about him. Never when it’s about him. Almost like a piece of you continues and will always pull you towards Min Yoongi. 

You turn away from him, back to the laptop resting in your lap. “The PAR says a tornado is forming north-east. Head North so we can drop the doppler in the right position.”

“Mm.” He grunts. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything. 

You don’t know what you expect him to do anyway. You didn’t give him anything to work with. Yet it doesn’t seem thinking logically is on the table, and you can’t help but get more mad, more frustrated by the second.

“Are we really not going to talk about this?” You’re quiet, almost vulnerable when you ask the question. So quiet he might not even hear. Hanging on the precipice, two winds twisting against each other in equal strength. 

Never have you felt this way about another person before. Dejection and anger weigh equally on the soul. You don’t quite know how to handle it. Don’t know how to combat what you’re feeling inside, just knowing the kettle is set to boil. 

He doesn’t answer your question. 

It was probably a bad idea to text him. Probably equally bad for him to answer and take you. An even worse idea to let the words slip out of your mouth without holding them back.

“Asshole.” The wind starts to pick up speed around the car, sucking you in. Pulling you deeping into the void. It’ll be no time at all before the tornado hits. 

“What?” His head jerks backwards, chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail coiled firmly behind him, acting like it isn’t even there. Trying to pretend he isn't there, maybe. 

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” You can’t help the rumble that forms in your heart, the twisted words that spew from your mouth. The subtle ache from every insult you fling. 

Almost like you’re attached to him. Like you’re attempting to sever a chain never meant to come undone. 

“What the fuck?” Why he’s acting so scandalised, flinching at every word, leaves you almost confused. Almost. Because he has no reason to be confused, at least not in your eyes. Not in the storm's eyes either. 

The rumble of thunder hammers outside, deeper into the freeze. Deeper into ash. 

“I thought we were going to move past this, (Y/n). We need to be adults here.” He sighs that stupid fucking sigh that you hate. The same one he used in the diner. The same one he used to brush off your feelings. Your chance to speak. 

Maybe later you would reflect on how selfish you’re being. Maybe later you would realise how childish you actually are acting. But right now all you can see is red. Right now all you can feel is a part of yourself trying to rip away. 

Maybe later you would find out Yoongi is feeling the exact same thing. 

But right now, right now all you see is red. All you hear is the beating of hail against the car roof, the image that it is your own heartbeat set in your own mind. Right now all you know is the soul crushing weight of the only man you ever loved pulling away.

Your soulmate– if such things were real, breaking the bond. 

“Are you serious? I’m the one that needs to be the adult here? Me?” You scoff, indignant. “You’re the one playing pretend, acting like nothing happened!” 

“I told you that we shouldn’t talk about it.” 

“You said it was a mistake.” Your eyes are set firm in a glare pointed at him and no one but him. Petty and Spite are your new best friends. Congratulations! “Just tell me if you fucking regret it Yoongi, just tell me.”

“(Y/n).” 

“Was it a drunk accident? Did you think I was someone else? Please! I rather you say fucking something than nothing at all! Please just let me be selfish for once! I’m begging for something! Anything!”

…

“We have a job to do. Focus on it rather than us.” You hate that he paused before he spoke, that it gave you some sort of hope. You hate even more that his tone has not once changed– settling from incredulous to neutral. Almost like he exists as nothing but a robot reciting lines. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it. 

He makes you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. He makes it feel like your feelings mean nothing. Like everything you trusted him with was all for naught. Are you not expressing yourself well enough? Are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing wrong?! What's wrong?!

“You’re serious?” The logical side of you says he’s right, your job is more important than anything else. But the piece of you falling apart, pulling away and leaving an empty hole inside feels otherwise. You’re convinced you’ve never felt any emotion other than frustration and annoyance. 

The car rolls to a stop as a clearing hits– hail ceasing, wind slowing even if it's just a fraction.  A calm before the storm. Where you’re meant to ‘dO yOuR jOb’-- fucking asshole. Does he really think you don’t know that? Does he really think that little of you?

“Fucking joke.” You can’t help the dry laugh that exits your lungs as you step out of the car. Your peace, the time you love to spend most in the world set askew, your feelings anything but. You love your time in the storms, but the tornado brewing inside casts a much larger shadow than the one overhead. 

Your hands fumble as they move the DOW out of the trunk– an action you’ve done time and time again feeling entirely foreign. Your body clumsy as it carries it to the front, your mouth spewing annoyed half thoughts all the way. 

“What?” Yoongi’s window is rolled down, his head leaning out of the front as he asks. 

Your eyes circle your skull again, “Fucking joke!” You call, trying to set up the radar. Your body only half in the moment. Half in the clouds. 

“This whole thing is one big joke!” You shout, foot kicking the dirt beneath your feet. The storm beginning to dissipate, a swell of rain forming behind your eyelids instead. 

“(Y/n) are you serious?!” You hate that his own frustration feels like a punch to the gut. 

“I have been this whole time!” You shout, brain finally working to kick the last pieces of the radar in place. In good time too, the wind is picking up again. The tornado will be coming soon. 

“Are you?! Are we seriously not going to talk about this?!” Your voice doesn’t feel like your own. It feels foreign, like something deeper inside is speaking for you– like it’s taking control. “Am I seriously just a cheap fuck to you?! Was I really a mistake, Yoongi?! Please, please just tell me.” 

“(Y/n), don’t do this to me…” Don’t do this to him? Don’t do this to him?! Does he realise what he’s doing to you? Does he even fucking care? You told him you want him! That nothing could keep you from him– and he doesn’t even have the decency to reject you properly. 

Maybe you're the bad guy– the villain for forcing this. For the path of destruction it might cause. But you truly can’t stand this. And maybe, just for once, the consequences mean as little to you as getting swallowed by the storms you’ve always cared for.

Yoongi is your impossible, remember? “But it’s always been about you! Don’t you get that, Yoongi?! It’s always! Always been about you from the second I met you!” You yell, not holding back your shouts. Letting them echo with the thunder coursing through the skies, coursing through your veins. “I’m not asking you to love me! I’m not asking for any of that shit! I just want a rejection!” 

What? What the hell are you saying? Why are you asking him to do that? Why are you asking him to do the one thing he can’t do?

He loves you. He loves you so much it keeps him up at night. That it infests his days like a parasite. You’re not asking him to love you? Are you crazy? Do you not see how he looks at you? Do you not see that you’re the person that’s hung all the stars in the night sky?

He can’t reject you. He can’t. His brain won’t let him form the words– his lips never to curl in the right shape to let them out. He can’t reject you because he doesn’t want to– because it would practically kill him to. 

He loves you. You’re his mate.

Why couldn’t you just make this easy? Why couldn’t you reject him? Why did you have to look so broken this morning? Why did you like him back? What does it mean? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to keep fighting when he knows he could have you for himself, for real? 

How is he supposed to protect you from him when it feels like he’s ripping a part of himself out when he tries to? He doesn’t want to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. He just wants to keep you safe. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t he just have you?

‘No one can keep me from you. You’re for me.’

Your words from last night ring in his ears. Existing as the only thing he can hear, the only thing that matters. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe– 

A sharp beeping suddenly penetrates his ears, a sound resonating from your laptop. A map laid out of the tornado's path.

It's formed– its body barrelling straight for you. 

Yoongi looks scared, nervous. His tail uncurling from behind him. Reaching out the window, reaching out to you. “(Y/n)! Get in the car!” 

“Shut up!” You’re not listening to him, not listening to a word he says, “I’m not even worth a rejection?! Our friendship means nothing, huh?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” His breathing is accelerating, his heart rate going crazy. He needs to get to you. He needs to protect you. To get in the car and drive as fast and as far as he can so nothing bad happens. “Get in the car!”

“Why does it even matter if I do or not?!” You yell over the sounds of rushed winds, ignoring debris that begin to fly past. Ignoring everything but the man in front of you, just like you’ve done time and time again. “If I get in, you’re just going to pretend nothing happened! You’re going to– you’re going to–” 

Tears begin to clog your vision, your words welling up in your throat. Scratching the inside, making you feel like you can’t breathe. Can’t think. Where you want to be strong, you are weak. And where you want to be weak, you feel strong. It’s a strange sort of feeling. 

“I can’t just fucking pretend like nothing happened last night, Yoongi!” A sense of peace washes over you, a complete contrast to the storm surrounding, enveloping the world. Acting as a monster, not caring about your feelings, swallowing everything whole. You finally feel at peace, oddly enough.

“I can’t– I can’t just act like everything’s fine! I’ve always been so fucking shit at that, you know that!” You throw your arms up in defeat, standing right in the path of the storm. Almost ready to watch the tornado come into view, to become the storm yourself. “But it feels like– it feels like you’re killing a part of me! Like you’re, you’re pulling out a piece of my very being and I don’t know why! It doesn’t feel real! And I don’t know if I can live without it!” 

What? It feels like– it feels like that for you? 

Yoongi steps out of the car, his tail curling almost too pleased at his human side’s actions. If it was anyone else, they would think you’re crazy. They would think you’re just being manipulative without a care in the world– but to Yoongi, to hybrids, he knows exactly what you're talking about. He knows the exact same thing. Has felt it every day of his life since he decided he couldn’t have you. 

The mate bond. The soulmate tie that will always lead two halves of a conjoined soul together over and over again. 

You feel it. Humans aren’t meant to feel it but you do. You feel the same pull, the same bone crushing heartbreak upon rejection from your mate. The same– the same everything Yoongi feels. 

He’s the one that's been hurting you like this, the one hurting himself by acting the same. In his bid for protection, he did the opposite. What kind of fucking mate is he? Why didn’t he just listen to the bond? Why didn’t he just let himself follow his heart?

Everything he’s dealt with in his past no longer carries any point. The comments under his stupid post to that stupid forum mean nothing. The words of his “family” are jack shit. The societal implications of him being less than human mean even less– you never saw him as less. His mate cares. His mate sees him.

This is what having a mate feels like? Yoongi thought he would never know. Never understand. But the warmth that feels him now, the subtle yearning he’s suppressed rises to the surface. His feet carrying him automatically, urging him to find you. To take care of you. To keep his mate safe. 

“We have to go!” He rushes, his legs moving quickly to try and meet your form. To try and find you. 

“No! No!” You shout, your foot stomping into the Earth. In any other scenario, he’d be shaking his head. Laugh at your antics. But right now, all he cares about is getting you to safety, and working on both of your communication skills. “I need you to tell me I’m a mistake! I need you to say I meant nothing!”

There you stand, arms open. Wind rushing past you, eyes closed yet looking straight ahead. You could never mean nothing, you mean everything. It’s his own stupid fault he ever let you think otherwise. 

“I just said what I needed to say!” He shouts, his body finally meeting yours in the open field. His hands land on your shoulders, trying to ground you. Hair  blowing around him, sticks flying past but never hitting the two of you. Almost like this needed to happen, like fate was set in stone for this very moment. 

Your eyes slowly open, and Yoongi thinks the world freezes around him. Misty watersheds sit in your tearline, your eyebrows forming together in confusion with his words. Your lungs raising and falling quickly, chest panting with effort held back. Emotions yet to be unraveled. 

If you feel the bond now, how long have you felt it? How confused you must’ve been. Yoongi feels awful. 

“Wh-what?” Your voice cracks, cheeks warm and irises searching for an answer. What is he doing? Why is he saying this now? Why does some part of you feel whole again? 

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t quite know how to articulate his words. But his body does. His body does what it’s been begging to do since he met you in that library. That he’s been holding back from every day of his stupid, (Y/n)-lacking life. 

He leans in, his lips pressing against yours roughly. Trying to tell you all the words he never said, trying to put everything, all of him into one measly kiss. One that means something. One that tells the story of the two of you. 

You, you can’t do anything but listen. Your eyes closing, your body returned whole. The piece of you pulling away settling back into your heart like stone. Warmth flooding your veins, home filling your very being. Making you feel safe, making you feel cared for. 

And when he finally pulls away, you hear the words you’ve always longed to know, “I love you and I’m sorry.” 

Yoongi feels free upon their utterance. A ball chain holding him back breaking– reality setting the world into motion once again. The earth that needs to keep spinning, that needs to keep the two of you afloat. 

You should feel mad, but you can’t feel anything but peace. But feel like your soulmate has returned home from a voyage you would never understand.

Before anything else can be said, Yoongi snaps his head to the left. His eyes going wide as the winds begins to form in front of him. Looking as if they’re not moving. As if nothing is moving. “Fuck, fuck.” 

He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the car as it starts to take focus in front of your mind, too. Fuzzy feeling fading, eyes going wide as you scramble from his door into your seat. He follows in quickly after you, not even thinking to buckle before taking off. Driving as if his life depends on it– your life depends on it, too. 

Sticks flying past the windshield, hitting against the body. Thunderous roars of the world being consumed outside. A tail pressing against your frame, holding you steady. Keeping you in place.

It’s only when you come to safety that all the words needing to be said finally spill out from both of your mouths. When everything is set ‘right’ again instead of feeling oh-so-wrong. It’s only then that he explains everything. That he explains his logic, that he explains how hybrids have soulmates. Don’t forget the scolding he gave– the promises made to each other that the other would never do something so stupid again.

He knows you meant them.

He’ll never forget the way you smiled at him then. When the heaviness left the air and the freedom surrounding the car became almost overbearing. He wishes he could tattoo the places you playfully slapped into his arm. Where you scolded him for keeping this from you. When you told him you would never have a second thought about rejecting him.

When you told him you could never think of a life where he isn’t your mate. 

“...Or boyfriend. Or partner. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You’ll never forget his gummy smile in that moment, when he has a possessive hand on your thigh. 

“I don’t care. I just want to be yours.” 

Wind wraps at your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself a messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in his ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person. 

But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon. 

And Yoongi? He can’t help but think you look like an angel enthralled in the storm. One that came to earth. One that was meant to find him. One that was created just for him. 

He can’t help but bask in you– bask in his mate as you live in your freedom, your happiness. Gets to be one of the lucky few finding sanctuary in your world. In your bubble made just for you. 

He smiles to himself as he watches. Shakes his head like a stupid boy in stupid love that couldn’t be happier. He’s so happy. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening a familiar app that he once looked to for advice all those years ago. Going to the same post he read the replies to over and over again– convincing himself that his impossible couldn’t be reality. He shakes his head as he reads them now, almost feeling foolish for believing him in the first place. Why should he have asked on a human forum anyway? It’s like he was asking to be let down. 

As he scrolls, his thumb comes to a stop above a comment he’s never seen before— a recent one. Posted just a few months ago. 

RMB_Joon

> Hey! This post is being talked about a lot on another forum specifically for hybrids! :-) I left the link for you as I think it would be a lot more helpful getting perspectives over there! :-) PM me if you ever want to talk.

Yoongi feels a curl of interest grow in his gut. Other hybrids? Interest in his post? He almost wants to know more. Almost wants to follow the inkling leading him to delve deeper into the world of others. 

“Yoongi!!” You shout, waving his attention over to where you stand. And suddenly, he doesn’t care about anything else anymore. How could he when he has the whole world in front of him? 

He chuckles to himself, marking his post as ‘resolved’ before tucking the device into his pocket. His legs catching into a jog, joining you at your side. Exactly where he should be. Where he’s meant to be.

⋆𐙚 WAHH THERE IT IS!!! I hope you all enjoyed <\\33 pls let me know any of your thoughts!! this is officially the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I put a lot of myself into this piece so I hope u all love it and it isn’t too skdhsksks yk?? MWAH ily © all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate. 

[banquetwriter]

୨୧ Gardening buddy ୨୧

pairing: Joel Miller ♡︎ Fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ porn with plot, sorta sub!joel, shy Joel, Tommy being an ass, softdom-ish!joel, pussy pronouns, Reader has hair long enough to “gather” (tho it doesn't matter much) with female anotomy, pnv and f receivng oral

summary: ʚ you have some plans to expand the garden and poor Joel just can't resist you ɞ

Words: 5.2k

A/N: lets pretend it didn't take me 22 days to write this lol

P:1 P:2 P:3

Joel swirled his whiskey slightly. He didn't even really want the damned thing. However, he would never decline a free drink. His jaw clenched slightly, eyeing the crowd. It was one of the many community events Jackson liked to host. Joel hadn't gone to many of them if he was honest but Tommy being the ever-intrusive brother he was, he pretty much had no choice but to show up tonight.

Plus you were gonna be there tonight, which was always a bonus.

It was no secret to Joel (or anyone else for that matter) how beautiful you are. You were younger, younger than him at least. He wasn't one hundred percent but early thirties he was guessing. 

You were funny, talented, and had a level head. Dangerous combo for a man like Joel. He'd seen you around of course. You didn’t go on patrols but you did run the gardening area when it came time and helped teach when it was cold.

Joel had noticed you but never had a real reason to say much to you so he didn't. That wasn't until Tommy had introduced you both. Fucking Tommy. You wanted to expand the garden, so you went to Tommy. 

————

Joel had just gotten off an extra patrol shift. He didn't have much to do nowadays so it was either sit around and play his six-string or go out and try and help out.

He had made a promise to Maria to stop by tonight for some planning. He wasn't too sure why, seeing how Joel didn't contribute much. As he knocked on the door and Maria’s half smile greeted him his curiosity grew. 

Everyone knew Joel was a little shy even if he would never say that. He heard your voice, he'd seen you teaching the littles outside enough times to recognize your voice by now. Why the hell were you here? 

“They're in the kitchen. Go ahead and head on back. I'll be right there.” Maria said with a soft smile and a strong hold on Joel's shoulder. She released her grip on the man, smirking to herself and she walked away. As her boot heel clicks got further away it dawned on Joel he had to now navigate a social situation with his brother and a person he didn't know too well.

Great. This oughta go well.

His face was neutral as he walked in. “Oh, there he is! My big brother, ladies and gentlemen.” Tommy walked around his kitchen island to hug his brother. Joel didn't have a moment to prepare as his younger brother's arm came crashing down around his shoulder. His eyes flicker to you who is, In defense, looking away but quietly giggling at his brother's actions. 

“Jesus Tommy, what is all of this about?” he says, fighting the way a red tint covers his face, neck, and ears. Embarrassment floods his system. Tommy loosens his grips eagerly looking at you. “Go ahead tell him.” you raise your eyebrows in surprise at the sudden spotlight. 

“Oh! Well um, well I sorta run all the gardening and whatnot here as well as teach the younglings how to garden and- sorry I'm rambling,” you say waving your hand a bit with a wide smile. You take a deep breath and lean into the kitchen island pointing to a paper, probably a map.

“The garden needs an expansion. There are a lot of people here, and everyone has a mouth to feed. I'm not thinking huge but bigger,” you said gesturing with your hands. Joel nods, walking over to the workspace. “Alright,” he states. Seems like a reasonable plan. “What’ you need me for?” his hands find the counter.

Your eyes flick down but just as soon as they look down they look right back up. “Well I came to Tommy- well actually to Maria THEN to Tommy but he said you're the man for the job,” you said placing your hand on your hip. Course Tommy would sign him up to do the grunt work for a pretty girl like you. 

The old man's eyes shifted to his brother who was now feeling less confident in his skills. “It ain't a big job Joel. We’d get the supplies in a few weeks max.” Tommy said encouragingly. He thought for a few moments.

He should say no. He's old and he ain't got time for no gardens.

————

His stomach swirled with anxiety for what felt like the thousandth time tonight. He told himself he was simply observing the dancing crowd. But he knew who he was looking for. You. He was looking for your awfully friendly smile. Your worn but cute jeans. 

He had spent so much time searching, eyeing the crowd he didn't see the very object of his affection damn near skipping up to him. “Hey gardening buddy!” you shouted holding out your arms. 

Joel's eyes widen at your contact. Your wave of joy crashed into him. “Woah don't kill the old man now!” Tommy shouts from the bar before getting a not-so-playful nudge from his wife. You pull away looking back to rolling your eyes at the younger Miller.

“What an ass,” you mutter, eyes fluttering back to Joel. Joel smiles looking down too nervous to look at you. “But how are you? Enjoyin’ the dancing?” your hand found its way to his shoulder. Your fingers smoothed over the fabric of his jacket, dipping under and pulling his flannel out.

His eyes watch your fingers drop the fabric as you chuckle to yourself. “What?” he finally manages. You were so touchy… it was weird. He didn't mind really. It wasn't anything that would cross a line. Just friendly things. 

Or he thinks.

He hopes it's more, secretly. There are several reasons why it could never work out between you two… You are younger, sweeter, softer. 

He can't think about it too long. He's alone most days now. And thinking about how fucking soft you are will ruin him. When those thoughts bubble up into his mind they don't just stay there. They find their way into his bloodstream… his bones.

He can picture your smile, the way your lips feel against his. The curve of your back, ass, thighs… anything his large rough hands could get on. He'd want all part of you. You smell like honey, or maybe you actually smell like honey. 

He blinks back to you smiling looking at him expectantly. “Yeah uh…” he scratches the back of his head, taking a deep breath in. You do smell like honey. “Ain't much of a dancer, to be honest darlin’,” he sighs. You nod your head with a smile, it is your turn to look down now. “Yeah sorry, I ain't buyin’ what you selling honey.” 

His eyebrows raise as his lips follow in a smirk. “Yeah?” he asks, placing his bands on his hips. Your arms cross with defiance, “Yeah.” your confidence oozed off of you like a waterfall. 

Maybe it was the drink you had or maybe it was you trying to ignore the beating in your heart whenever you saw Joel but you needed a dance.

————

You stood in the front room of Tommy’s looking at all their pictures as Maria shifted around her drawers for something she owed you. Joel, having just agreed to help you expand the garden, had gotten a hard smack on the back from Tommy, a warm smile from Maria and you guessed it a hug from you.

Joel rounded the corner to see Maria approaching you with something small in her hand. “Hey thanks,” you said taking it from her and pushing it in your pocket. “Anything to take the load off.” she winked at you. 

His sister-in-law looked at him and with a quick nod and a “Joel.” it was just you two in the living room. “Thank you again Joel for helping me with this and I promise I will help as much as I physically can,” you said walking up to him. “Quit thanking me, it's not a big deal.” not needing to put his heart in any more strain. 

You let out the (cutest) giggle and stepped back slightly. “Heh- sorry. My name is y/n by the way. I feel like I didn't introduce myself earlier.” 

It felt silly to Joel you felt the need to introduce yourself to him. Like you two haven't met before. Of course, it dawned on him. You just don't think about him as much as he thinks about you. Why would you? He's just Tommy's older brother.

“I know what yer’ name is darlin’.” A slight awkwardness hangs in the air, just like the Christmas lights in December. There to look at and admire. “Right, sorry. I know who you are too. Joel Miller. Tommy’s handsome older brother. You've got quite the reputation.” you said with a wide smile trying to use it to cover up how your face was starting to burn.

If your face was burning Joel’s must be on fire as he opened his mouth to speak but not a word came out. Not only did you know who he was but you called him handsome. That's when the schoolboy crush began in its full form.

No longer could he pretend he just thought you were pretty; those pesky little feelings found a way to weasel into his heart. “Handsome, huh?” he asked, not able to make eye contact.

You bit your lip at his nervousness, toe-ing forward slightly. “Well sure,” you explain. “Hard to miss those big ol’ muscles of yours riding into town,” you said. Your words may be teasing but your tone wasn't. You were more quiet now. 

That's right. The old shift he and Tommy would do usually had him coming into Jackson as soon as you were bringing the littles on a walk around. That means not only did you know him, you saw him. Nearly every damn day. Did you miss him on days he wasn't there? Ever think about sayin’ hi?

“Yeah uh, I remember now. You used to have the kids out about the same time every day when me and’ Tommy’d bring in the horses.” he said gesturing to nothing.

“Yup, that's right. Hey, why don't you do that shift anymore,” you asked, shifting your weight on your feet. It was weird that this didn't feel weirder. Felt like y'all had been friends a while and not for 30 minutes over talking about some garden bed plans.

It still was awkward. It seemed like a tidal wave could hit and you still wouldn't shake the nerves. 

It had been a while since he did that patrol. “Oh well, they can't have an old man on the new guy shift eh?” he said, trying to ease ever-flowing anxieties. It was also a reminder for himself. He is older than you. Therefore out of reach for you and him. Couldn't help it, however. Thinking of the older man. You say older like he isn't a mere 20-something years older. 

“Old man? I've seen the way you wrangle those horses. Old man, where huh?” you teased, arm reaching out for your coat on the rack. He chuckled following your lead pulling his old and tattered Carhart piece on. “Yeah well, I ain't young like I used to be. Think Tommy started to notice finally.” 

He thought back to when he first got to Jackson. Begging Tommy to take Ellie from him and save her. He felt like he was going to get her killed, no he knew he was going to. He was right. He ended up hurting her worse than any scar could.

Now he had no one. Except Tommy. Stupid Tommy.

————

“Well unfortunately for you I was just about to head out.” Joel declared. He wasn't planning on it but now was as good of a time as any. Wasn't it? “Oh leave? Oh no no sorry honey I'm not letting you leave without at least one dance. Are we clear?” you tease poking his chest slightly. 

You laced your fingers with his guiding him to the ‘dance floor’ of the tipsy bison. He felt the warm feeling of your skin bleed into his. He felt the eyes of other patrons on you both. An old man and a young girl. 

The slow country song filled the air. Once you settled on a spot a little far away from the watchful crowd. You twirled around settling your arms around Joel's neck. You start a small sway back and forth to the music. His eyes didn't meet yours, instead swam through the sea of faces

What were they thinking? Were they judging him? “Hey cowboy,” his eyes flutter down. “Eyes on me.” he looks away but not for long, his eyes fall back

To yours like a comforting hug. “Why are you doin’ this?” His voice is low but not mad. “Cause you're cute,” you whisper back faces inching forward. 

There's a beat of science before Joel feels like a familiar feeling bubble in his lower belly. His arms slink down to your waist, his rough hands gripping slightly. His face dipped down to your neck next to your ear, his beard tickling your skin. “You wanna uh- get outta here?” he asks slowly, trying not to make his idea very public.

“Thought you'd never ask.” 

You both chose an Irish goodbye as the safest option. Quietly slipping into the quiet cold night. Your dancing outfit was less than ideal for the colder weather. The freezing air nearly pierces your skin, and if god had heard you just then a blanket of warmth comes down and encapsulates you. 

You turn your head to Joel who has now wrapped his very thick and warm jacket around you. “Thank you,” you said leaning closer to him as you both walked toward your road. No further words were said but your heart seemed to be beating faster than it had all day. 

You rushed to your house's front porch eager to escape the cold. You opened your front door shuffling in and letting Joel in after you. He took in your space. It was cute. A few books were on your coffee table. He would need to ask about those later.

He watched you idly as you kicked your shoes off, tossing them into a shoe bin. You ran to all of the lamps in your living room, turning them all on. It gave the room a homey feel. The realization of what he was about to do started to sink in. 

He wanted to fuck you.

Fuck felt like such a disrespectful term. You were a lady and he was a man. Making love? That felt too cheesy. But maybe Joel was just a cheesy guy... God, 5 years ago he would haven't even considered you romantically, let alone get nervous at the thought of having sex with you.

But here he was watching, getting increasingly nervous as you started a fire in your fireplace. He started to rub his shoulder slightly, watching as you were satisfied with the height of the fire. 

You shrugged his Carhart jacket off placing it on the couch. Joel’s eyes followed you as you approached him. His heart jumped as he felt the air get warmer and it wasn't the fault of the fire. He saw you glance at his lips as you got closer and closer. 

“Are you nervous?” you asked in a teasing voice noticing his quietness. He stood there without making a noise. His silence answered any questions you had. “It's ok,” you took one final step towards him. “We can go at your pace.” 

Your fingers found the sides of his face. Your hands were so soft unlike his, “S’ been a minute since v’done this. S’all.” he breathed out looking down. “That's ok, we can go as slow,” your hands found him pulling them around your waist. “Or as fast as you want this to go. No pressure baby.”

He kept his hands on your waist. Big rough mounds of flesh gripping your waist. His breaths are shaky, he can feel you. He needed to feel more. Joel takes the leap of faith. He pushes his lips against yours. The rest of your body follows as you get pulled flush against him.

You're so warm. He can feel your warmth against his crotch. The flesh of your stomach warms and rubs against him from under the fabric of your clothes. Your lips are soft and you taste like the wood flavor of a good whiskey.

His mouth engulfs yours. His body needs you, craves you. Your fingers find his hair, begging to pull him close. “Joel…” you manage as you press your nose against his. “Come on baby,” he whispers back, nudging your nose slightly. 

He pressed his body against yours encouraging you to start walking backward toward your couch. Your knees hit the plush on the furniture. You let yourself fall back as your chest rises and falls rapidly. He stands over you watching. His pupils are blown.

His skin feels so hot like he needs to jump out of it. On the other hand, he feels like his skin would ignite with yours to create the most beautiful fire. He can't believe he is gonna do this. You feel the same. You watch as he slowly sinks to his knees, choosing to ignore the small pop noise you hear as he settles closer to you.

His old, dark but kind eyes bored into your soul as you leaned closer to him on the couch. Your legs spread open to create room for him. Your mouth collided once more, this time with less urgency. Softly and slowly his tongue explored your mouth. 

Making sure every single inch of him tasted every inch of you. Your hands found quick work of his flannel nearly ripping it off of his body. He watched in awe as your soft eyes filled with lust. You needed him. Was he going to be able to give you everything you needed? 

You seemed sure he would. After making quick work of his flannel your hands started to pull his shirt up enough to expose his round soft belly. Something he is not particularly proud of. But he would be lying if he said the look in your eye didn't give him a slight ego boost 

To you, he wasn't a flabby old man. He was a damn near work of art. He couldn't bell but hesitate taking his shirt off the rest of the way as he watches your eyes track his torso. The only thing snapping him out of his state was realizing you were now looking right at him. 

“Huh?” he asked, staring up at you. You gave him a knowing smirk, “Do you wanna take your shirt off? Or keep it on?” you asked, biting your lip. In a preferable world, Joel could keep all of his clothes on for this. He can't… not easily that is. 

So he took a deep sigh. “Whatever you want honey,” his drawl bleeds into his words and your bearing heart. “Are ya sure? Cuz’ if I have my way you ain't wearing anything.” you said, dragging your finger down his chest. He shivered slightly.

You wanted him. “S’fine by me. Want you the same way.” a flash of heat finds its way to your core. He wanted you. “Oh yeah?” you asked, shuffling back to him and pressing your lips against him, fingers dancing to rip his shirt off. 

He lets you, it's hard to calm his breath enough to kiss you and not freak out. But soon enough his shirt is gone, and you guide your fingers to his having him dip under your shirt. He for a second isn't sure what to do, his brain only being able to think about how soft you are. Jesus, he is losing it. Eventually, he allows his hand to glide up your back.

Fumbling for a second with the bra strap before undoing it. It was at this moment that Joel slowly remembered who he was. He was dominant, soft, and experienced. Your eyes go slightly wide at his ability to snap your bra off. 

“My my he has many tricks up his sleeve,” you say with a smile as he pulls your bra completely off your body. “This ain't my first rodeo darlin’” he comments, unable to hold back a small smile. “For your sake, I’d hope not.” you joked. He rolled his eyes. The atmosphere shifted again. You gripped the bottom of your top pulling it off yourself.

His eyes and some drops. Your perfect tits sat looking right at him. “Christ,” he murmured, moving closer to you. His mouth instinctually moved to your collarbones, his hands slipped up your stomach. 

You breathed out at the feeling. He was wonderful. A breathy “Joel,” flew past your lips as his mouth went further, taking your nipple into his mouth. Slowly licking and sucking on your mound. Your fingers found his hair. The tips and nails tubing against the roots of the salt and pepper locks. 

He pulled away, a single string of spit still connecting the two of you. His mouth found your other tit, replicating the same love did to the other side. The slow-burning ache started to fill your system. You pressed down onto the couch trying to find any sort of relief from the pressure. 

Joel saw your struggle. His rough fingers slid down to your ass, even in jeans his touch felt so good. “Oh, we’ll get there.” he whispered, pulling away from you. “Please, Joel. I need you,” you whined. 

He pulled further away and he crept to your buckle, his eyes searched yours for permission. “Go ahead,” you whispered with a nod, he turned his attention back to your pants. He fumbled a second with the button, then in the blink of an eye had the button undone and the zipper down and was pulling your pants off. 

They were down at your ankles and then they got tossed aside. Joel eyed your thigh and stomach like an animal waiting to pounce. The feeling of his rough calloused hands rubbing against your soft flesh sent waves of pleasure down your heart. 

A prominent wet patch formed on your panties. Joel's touch was both gentle and comforting. Your finger dove under his chin holding him to look at you. “I need you, please…” you repeated. God, you sounded so whiny. 

“M’gonna m’gonna, ya gonna need to be patient f’me,” he whispered before he started kissing the flesh of your thigh. The words alone send you gushing into your panties. His scratchy beard added another sensation all welcomed.

You clench around nothing desperate for pressure. After he was satisfied with making out with your thighs making sure you were nice and wet for him, he pulled away. You watched as he moved to the top of your cunt hovering just above you. His hot breath sent shivers up your spine.

You breathed out and his mouth collided with your clothed heat. He covered you with kisses, slowly but deep, and the passion grew in your lower belly. His fingers slowly hooked into your panties. He slowly dragged them down.

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, your entrance was glistening with slickness. All for him. Had he really done that to you? “My god baby, you trying to kill me,” he whispered. His thumb slowly spreads you open, and his finger gently brushes you.

Your legs jolted and he knew he found your clit. He watches your face as he slowly begins to rub circles. Your eyes gleam over with love. He maintains eye contact. You slowly began leaking your pussy fluttering around nothing.

Joel licked a big stripe up gathering all your juices on his tongue. You let out a soft groan. He slowly began to stick his tongue in hitting your G-spot. “Wait-” you breathed out, smoothing your hand over his hair. 

He pulled away, lips glistening and pupils blown. His heart sank to his ass, what had he done? Why did he think he could do this? He wasn't any good, not anymore at least. Maybe he never was. 

“Can I take off your pants? But leave your boxers still on,” you asked with a sheepish smile. He blinks for a second before standing up. The world seems to rush up with him, he can feel you tugging at his belt but he gets so dizzy all he can do is slowly rub his thumb across your cheek as he looks down at you.

He could get used to this view. He begged you'd look real pretty down there, taking him in your mouth. The thought alone makes his cock jump, or maybe it was the cold air as you pulled his pants down. His hard cock begging to be released.

You don't answer his prayers as you scoot back on the couch with a content smile. Joel discards everything still left on him minus his boxers. His knees make a familiar pop as he settles back in between your legs. His kisses return and so does his tongue as he begins to re-light the fire growing in your belly. 

His hand flexes up to yours grabbing yours and putting you right on your clit. His strong arms wrap around your thighs, pinning your legs open. The cold sting of his watch sends a shiver up your spine. You rub your clit trying to keep up with his pace.

It was hard to keep in rhythm, your legs shook around his head and in his arms. You felt the coil threatening to snap and you couldn't take it anymore, you removed your hand and gripped your couch cushion. “Joel- I'm so close.” 

He hummed into your sex, your back tried to arch off the couch as he kept you pinned. Your legs shook as the coil snapped. Your orgasm deafening any other stimuli. “Ohhh fuck Joel.” you whimpered into the air.

After a second his ministrations stopped, and your legs were sore but a good kind of sore. The kind where you can feel pleasure for hours. You work to catch your breath as the older man on his knees for you slowly stands up. “Jesus.” is all you can say with a smile.

“Still got it in me huh?” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Oh no Joel you had it in me,” you whispered standing up to meet him. “Oh yeah?” he asked, letting you invade his space. “Yeah,” you whispered, pulling him into a kiss, your taste still on his tongue. You let out a small noise. “Taste yourself, baby? Sweetest pussy I've ever had.” and you moaned again. 

You needed his dick right now. 

Your fingers fumbled for the fabric of his boxers. They were hot and so was the rest of him. Chest tinged with a slight red color. You pulled down as you kissed him, and his hard member sprung up. Joel hissed inwards at the sudden cold air.

And Jesus was perfect. He was long, or at least longer than anyone you had ever seen in real life. And big. God, you were gonna feel this man in your toes. You looked up at him with a loopy smile. “Not too bad for an old man,” you mumble, your tease must have been good because at that moment his rigid cock jumped slightly up.

That was your cue to begin. Joel shot you a warning glance with his eyes, but a smirk tugged at his lips. You slowly begin to tease him, fluttering your hands around his hips and thighs. Before you can sink to the ground his strong hand gathers to the back of your head. He guides your head back up, and you're confused.

Worry starts to flood your system. You cock your head to the side trying to figure out why he wouldn't want you to suck his dick. He was already hard, he ate you out just moments ago… none of it was adding up in your brain.

“That's not how this is gonna work,” he says as his large hands find the sides of your arms. He gently moves you to the couch. You plop down, still confused. “Work? Work how?” you ask. “You don't needa suck m’off just cause I did what I did.” 

You shake your head with a smirk, “I don't need to do anything. I want to, Joel.” you mustered up your best puppy eyes. “No baby what ya’ need,” he starts walking towards you. Your knees hit the couch again as you flop down. His hand meets your knee, spreading your legs for him. “What you need is me in that pretty little cunt. She's begging for me,” he whispers in the last part.

Your mouth is slightly agape. Have you really just heard that? No way… right? Joel came down to meet you, his hands roaming your body tentatively. He lined himself up to your entrance.

“Sure you wanna do this with an old man? We can stop.” he reminds you. “No we can't,” you said

With a smile. “Yes, we can. This can end now. You don't have to do this.” and while his words were so sweet, you needed him to fuck you. “Joel, pleased I've waited so long for this,” you whispered. He nodded, positioning his hard length in you.

It felt like he was piercing you. As he pushed into you you mewled out. He instantly stopped,” You alright?” he asked his warm rough hands creating the greatest sensation in the world. “Mhm, just stings a little that's all,” you whispered nodding at him. Joel doesn't move his eyes searching for permission to keep going. 

“Go ahead, m’ ok.” you encouraged. He nodded pushing in about halfway, it was his turn to make a noise. You were so tight and warm and ready for him that he nearly keeled over at the feeling. God, he wasn't gonna last long. Once he pushed all the way in he dove down to kiss you. 

His hips began snapping against yours as your mouths melted together. You pulled away the feeling of his dick prodding your tummy become overpowering, to say the least. Your fingers scratched down his back leaving long traces in your wake. 

He breathed heavily, his forehead planted on yours. “Mm fuck me,” he muttered gathering your hair and yanking your head down to look at where the two of you met. To see you swallowing his cock whole. “Look at you, baby. Your-” he took a deep breath in. “Fuck, you're doing so good baby,” you whined out in response. 

Joel could feel his orgasm approaching. He gritted his teeth together, “Fuck! Come one baby m’ so close. Needa to come first. Make me all wet.” he cursed. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your throat. You were so close, he had fucked your brain quiet.

Any sort of thought beyond his dick, hands, or voice was a lost cause. The coil in your stomach snapped, your walls clenching around him violently. It was enough to draw out his orgasm. “Fuck.” you both whimpered as you clung to him.

[mintaikk]

Why Morpherine should be canon

Remember: all of these are just MY opinion. In all honesty, I just want Morph's feelings for Lpgan to addressed instead of just burying it immediately. That's all I'm asking, I'm not even asking them to get into a relationship. Morph's VA even agrees that Morpherine doesn't even need to be canon, and that their friendship should be explored more. But, these are just my reasonings on why it would be good for morpherine to be canon.

It would put an end to the not love triangle between Jean, Scott, and Logan

Love triangle has been going on for a while now, and I think we're all sick of it. I like that it let's us see a softer side of Logan, but Jean isn'tinterested! She's been with Scott since high school, and there's no way in Hell that she is going to leave him.

What sucks to me is that the fact that nothing has really been where he develops abd is able to get over his crush. I get it. Feelings are hard, and they don't go away. But, nothing is going to be done with this except useless pining and have Jean kiss him for some fucking reason. I literally just want Logan to get over Jean. That's it. He gets over Jean, and find someone thar actually likes him in that way.

And that's Morph bcuz the entire post is about :).

It already has good buildup

Half of this section was just stolen from a post made by @waywardsou2 bcuz I haven't watched the original series in a while and they put it perfectly lol.

Morph and Logan were best friends, with Logan famously saying that, "He [Morph] is the only one that could ever make me laugh." But (in literally the first episode lol), Morph dies protecting Logan from a sentinel. And Logan was fucking PISSED. He didn't like Scott before, but I think Morph dying contributed to his dislike for him even more, since he believes that Scott's decision is the reason that his best friend was killed. He then goes to grieve and then later avenge Morph ("This one's for you, Morph!" Slayed so hard with that line tbh). Later, when they find out that Morph is alive, but under Sinister's control, Logan is the first one to offer and go out to rescue them, even though they all think that Morph betrayed them. He says that "He's the only one that could ever make me laugh", quote and also mentions that he's "not giving up on him again." When Logan goes to talk to Morph, the purple around Moeph'a eyes dissappear, and only return when Logan isn't around, so they're already shown to be pretty close.

Another thing is that when Morph and Logan are fighting, Morph turns into Sabretooth and Jean to get under Logan's skin. It's already and open secret among the X-men thst Logan has feelings for Jean, but he hadn't told anyone about Sabretooth. Morph turning into Sabretooh implies that Logan gold Morph about him. I find it sweet that Logan trusted Morph enough to tell them about Sabretooth.

Morph wanted to get revenge on the rest of the team, but with Logan, they just explained what they were going through. And Logan understands them because he wants them to feel better.

And then, in X-men 97, they're just attached by the hip and are literally always seen together. Morph cheers Logan up when he's upset, Morph is always the first one to save him, etc. They're even like this in the comic, being the first one to notice that Wolvie is upset during Scott and Jean's baby shower.

Oh yeah, the thing that made me go "HOLD UP" and got me into this ship: Morph's (confirmed) love confession to Wolverine.

And that fuckass shower scene.

We could just leave it at that, but I'm a fanfic reader and writer, meaning that I latch onto ANY angst I can find. So, here's the stuff this scene implies.

-The illusion of Logan was made by Mr. Sinister when he was bringing out the worst fears of the X-men. And Morph’s worst fear? Logan finding out their feelings for him, and Logan finding them repulsive

-Mr. Sinister is aware of Morph's feelings for Logan, which implies they've had feelings for him for a while now

Those two things are very important for me, and just adds to their relationship more. Imagine a scene where Morph tells Logan expecting him to be grossed out by him, but instead, Logan accepts them and hugs them or smthn. I'd honestly cry if I saw that.

Happy ending for the gays :D

So, so many stories of unrequited gay love or "burying your gays." I don't think they're gonna kill Morph as a lot of their time was spent being dead, but I can see them being rejected by Wolvie. Which is completely fine! Again, I'm not saying that they need to be together! Having a scene like this or this would be great!

But also, I think a lot of people are just tired of having gays get unhappy endings in media, be that rejection for a straight relationship or just straight up dying. Morph's VA believes that it's important to have a gay character be rejected by a straight guy since it's happened to so many people in real life, and I do agree with it! But also, this is fiction, and escapism, and goddamnit, people just want their favorite characters to be happy!

Good queer rep

Imma br so fr: Marvel shows and movies are shit when it comes to queer representation. It's getting better, but it's still shit. It's either a one-off comment or queerbaiting. Apparently, Loki is genderfluid? That's great! Would've been nice to actually see! Bucky Barnes is implied to be bisexual (he mentioned a lot of tiger photos on Tinder, tiger photos are mostly posted by men, it implies he was looking at men's profiles on tinder) but again, that's only implied, and you gotta dig deep to realize it, so really, only people who are actively looking or are in those communities know. America Chavez is gay, (haven't read her comics, but I think she's also gay in the comics :D), but I didn't even know that until I saw it on the wiki. I don't feel like going through all of it, so here are some links to posts that talk about it. Link 1, Link 2, Link 3

Honestly, it'll boils down to wanting to appease the cishet male audience.

X-men is a bit different though, as the series was literally MADE to be woke. Like, here's a post I made that talks about it bcuz I don't feel like repeating myself. Except Marvel shows are cowards, so they'll probably tone-down the wokeness. Smthn about "Wolverine can't be queer bcuz he's mainstream" and they gotta appease that cishet audience! Except that's exactly WHY it would be great for Wolvie to be in a queer relationship! Because he's mainstream! He's already a super popular character, and having him be queer would be great, because a lot of queer people will look up to a character that they already liked before! Straight men have a shit ton of characters that represent them. What's wrong with queer men having a character thar can represent them? Same with lesbians, bisexuals, trans people, literally anyone under the queer umbrella.

I latched onto Morph so heavily because they're nonbinary and gender-nonconforming, which matches my gender expression so heavily. And if I can be so extremely happy with a character that gets a couple minutes of screen time being queer, imagine how happy people will be when a main character whose in a queer relationship gets even more screen time?

Also, Wolvie dated the literal actually Hercules in one comic. Don't come at me yall, it can happen.

And if Marvel wants to add queer rep but is still shy about it, Morph would be a great start. It's like putting little kids into the shallow end of the water because the deep end is scary.

Morph only exists in the X-men cartoon and Exiles comics. Unless you're this tiny community on tumblr, no one gives a shit about Morph. When people think about their nostalgia for X-men 92, no one thinks of Morph. Their ass literally DIED in the first episode, wasn't even in the goddamn intro, and only appeared for like, 6 episodes, and they didn't even exist in the comics. So, paring up with Wolverine would be the "safe" option. It wouldn't be like pairing up Bucky with Sam or Cap (no matter how many people would love that), because no one knows who Morph even is. People would say, "Oh, Wolverine got with Morph!" and most people would reply with, "Who?" Safer option so less people get mad. Just dipping a foot into the pool of queerness, lol.

Yeah, it sucks that there has to be a "safe" option, but I'm also very attached ti this ship and Marvel needs to learn that queerness isn't some evil thing that drives away customers.

Tldr; Morpherine should be canon bcuz It would put an end go the Jogan love triangle, it already has good buildup, it leads to a happy ending for the gays,

[hyperions-light]

I heard through the grapevine that people do not like Taash, which is bizarre to me, as I love Taash. So here’s a probably-expanding list of things to love about Taash!

1. They love animals so much!! The birds, guys! My heart melted <3

2. How kind and considerate they are to Karash, who needs someone to be gentle with him. They get that! They’re careful, and they warn both the Rivaini and their mother to be careful, too!

3. If you bring them to the Qunari in Treviso who is having a difficult time communicating, they will help them ;-;

4. How when they annotate the codex entries they always use footnotes ;-; because Shathann is an academic

5. How open-minded they are about stuff! They don’t automatically know everything, but they are always so willing to listen when someone explains things to them! They listen to Neve about Minrathous, even though it contradicts what they’ve been told; they listen to Davrin about working out, and Lucanis about the Crows.

6. How quick they are to admit their problems, listen, and apologize, if needed. It’s never frustrating to deal with Taash’s problems because as soon as you point out something’s wrong, they agree and are ready to handle it. It’s great!

7. It was really adorable when they tried to lie to Shathann about using their fire and they just… didn’t lol

8. They are sooooo sweet to their friends in the Lighthouse!! They always talk to everyone about whatever bad thing is happening, and they always offer to help fix it! I love that one dialogue where they insist to Bellara that her being upset about her brother is okay, and she should let the team help!! The way they express themselves is not always traditional, but it IS always considerate and well-meant!

9. Even though when Rook is recruiting them Shathann made the decision without their consent, Taash stops to reassure Rook that working with their team IS what Taash wanted. It’s really sweet <3

10. They are completely fine about Spite and treat Lucanis normally no matter what.

11. They love Shathann so much ;;;;;-;;;; I will write a whole post about it one day, but their relationship is soooo… it’s so real! I literally know people like this in real life, it’s written with so much attention to detail. And like even though they argue, and things can be difficult between them, Taash adores Shathann. There’s a reason almost every one of their outings involves her.

12. They are extremely knowledgeable in their areas of expertise! It’s fascinating to listen to them tell Lucanis how to lure out dragons, or Emmrich how to pick the right gems for his helmet. They are so confident !

13. The part where they yelled “the crows axe their regards” during battle almost made me die to the Antaam, I was laughing so hard

14. The fire-message they write themselves after the end of their arc thanks… Neve? I think ? For her help (will update this if I’m wrong)

15. They take everyone’s problems as seriously as they take their own. Even when other people miss it, they are the one to point out or affirm the importance of the emotional aspect of things (like during the Solas memories, when they call out that Solas regrets not speaking with Mythal again before she died)

Okay! More soon? Add, if you want!

[faela0]

okay fuck i shouldve said this wayyy earlier but oh my god the relationship between blindfold bandits and wemmbu a lot closer than I thought, because sometime ago flame genuinely considers betraying wemmbu for no reason, like ig also because he uses their resources and flame acts like bfb don't actually care about Wemmbu. But then mane builds a statue for wemmbu, and he tells kab that wemmbu is such a huge help and he makes being on the server fun for him because wemmbu does wtv he wants while pentar and flame just focus on winning and he tells Kab that wemmbu genuinely cares a lot about the bfb considering he hopped on to fight alongside them with a headache after a massive recording because they had asked for his help.

and like that type of care was never shown for his actual team the California girls, yet it was shown for just an alliance? That's like the same level of care that Wemmbu has for Derapchu which again is weird considering they are technically enemies

and it just raises the question of like how Wemmbu chooses who to be loyal to, considering that the labels of 'teammates' and 'alliance' and 'enemy' apparently really mean nothing to him. Like what does loyalty mean to him?

He thought Kab splashing Zam and Mapicc was a betrayal, he does a lot for Derap with lowkey not that much in return, he doesn't do much for mane and flame except drain their resources lol but still they are unbelievably close ( i would consider them teammates but that's just me)

and its obvious he favours some relationships over others and its just so interesting to see how he acts in each one

[jellytamalies]

Aroace liu qingge is sooooooo important to me Not just cause aroace rep! (Partly because of that :)) But also because if he’s not /in love/ with shen qingqui then there really is no excuse for his absolutely deranged behavior

Like at least binghe has somewhat of a reason. Sqq was the first person in a while who was so unequivocally kind and really believed in him and promised protection after a lifetime of hurting and abuse (post brain replace-ification). He promised acceptance and love and pride and binghe became addicted to that rush (and the headpats)

But lqg? He save his life once.

Like bro… playing fucking tug of war with sqq’s corpse. Going full out war for 5 years over… some guy?

I saw a post about how if lqg had sqq’s corpse he would have obsessively stood guard over it and they where so right

I mean like

You left him dead animals as a sign of gratitude like a fucking cat. You went from hating his guts to being the most tusundrai man to ever tusundrai.. but as a friend

You would kill for him. You would Die for him. (Though tbf neither of those are a big bother for lqg lol) You would repeatedly lose in battle and be humiliated for him. You had to watch him make some questionable life decisions (getting with mr obsessive bordering-on-necrophilia lovesick-puppy) and all you can do is yell and brood in the corner while fantasizing about using binghe’s head as a knife holder

It would have been kinder if madam what’s-her-face was talking about liu qingge when she spoke the fortune on who sqq would fall in love with because the alternative is downright embarrassing

[shuaboo]

kim gyuvin thinks everything is a fuckin game. 😒 boy don’t play with me bc ill show u how i feel the pop . 😒😒😒😒

his hands are so FUCKING PRETTY i need them!!!!bbvn!:?;!3).! what. these are insane photos lol!!!! these were screenshotted from one of his most recent lives and omg…. i think im dead.

have this gyuvin fic for your daily treat ☺️💋 no title or anything because this was completely spontaneous, it wasn’t even supposed to be this long.

a/n: this is the gyuvin fic i lost progress for. i promise this was so much better before and i wish i had saved it, but this isn’t all that bad either:(. enjoy!

just imagine gyuvin being a fucking tease, sending you these photos while you’re busy because he feels neglected and needy. he’s not sending you a warning text, just two attachments and wow. he knows he’s got you all worked up, and expects you to be at his door or ask him to come over.

well surprise, you do. 20 minutes after he sent the pictures, he got no reply from you which started to worry him. he was about to message you, but heard a ring at his door. lo and behold, you are standing there. clearly looking frustrated both sexually and from your work or uni studies. he’s got you right where he wanted you to be.

“oh… my love i thought you were busy, why the sudden visit?” he asks you, trying to act clueless. “shut up. you know why i’m here. you sent that stupid hand pic to get me all worked up, so now i’m here. do something about it.” you snap back at him, and he giggles. “hmm, i don’t know what you’re talking about, baby. i sent those pictures because i just… missed you, that’s all. not sure what other reasons you think i had to—“

you cut him off by grabbing a fistful of his shirt into your hands, and pulling him down for a passionate kiss. he’s surprised at first, but he eases into the kiss and starts to rub your torso. your hands are now around his neck, but only a few seconds later, you pull away. you knew simply asking him to make you feel good wouldn’t work. so as a result, you opt to do something else.

you’re looking at him with the begging eyes that make him crazy. “gyuv, please make me feel good..” you say as your hands make their way into his, rubbing his knuckles. you turn your gaze to his hands before continuing to speak. “you’re so mean, teasing me when you know i’m busy. now you’re not even going to do anything about it.” you attempt to walk away, but his hand stops you.

“you’re not going anywhere.”

that’s how you ended up here, on the bed with gyuvin’s fingers in your mouth. you’re sucking, practically drooling all over his fingers and it makes his mind go crazy. the fact that you’re in such a desperate state just because of his fingers makes his ego shoot up.

after awhile, gyuvin takes his fingers out of your mouth and gives you a quick kiss. he moves himself down until he’s face to face with your pussy. “fuck… baby you’re so wet. is this all for me, slut?” he says as he uses two of his fingers to rub your clit, and down along the folds. his words and actions makes you whine, wanting nothing more than for him to touch you in the way you want. “y-yes! it’s all for you.. please touch me, gyuv. wanna cum a-around your fingers, please.” you manage to form a sentence, even with the stimulation of his fingers harshly rubbing your clit. he groans at your words, and mumbles a drawn out ‘fuck’ before responding. “yeah? my pretty girl wants to cum around my fingers… who am i to say no to you, huh baby?” he says, moving up to kiss you on the lips again. you desperately kiss him back before he goes down to your pussy again.

he gives your clit a kiss and licks it, before he lets two of his fingers sink into your hole. “damn, look at that. she’s practically sucking my fingers in. what a slutty hole.” he starts moving his fingers at a slow to moderate pace, making your face contort slightly, and earning the cutest moans from you. embarrassed, you cover your face to hide from him and to suppress your sounds, but gyuvin doesn’t like that. he uses his free hand to slap your pussy, and looks up at you. “don’t hide those pretty moans baby, and don’t you dare hide that even prettier face either. let everyone know what a slut you are for me, for my fingers.” following his orders, you remove your hands from your face. he resumes his earlier acts, this time thrusting his fingers faster. the pace is so overwhelming, but it’s so good. you can’t get enough of his fingers. you let out loud moans, whines, everything. “i can feel you clench around my fingers, pretty. gonna cum soon?” he takes your whines as a yes, but waits for you to use your words anyway. “y-yes! fuck- please make me cum- ah, p-please go faster, need to cum so bad please baby!” he does as he’s told, and quickens his pace. your sounds only get louder as his fingers move faster. eventually, you let yourself release all over his fingers. completely covering his fingers in your cum.

he moves up to face you, and puts his fingers in his mouth to taste you. he then moves to kiss you on the lips, letting you taste yourself. you let out a groan at the taste, as you let his tongue explore your mouth until he pulls away. immediately, his slightly mean demeanor from earlier changes. he pecks your forehead and cups your face before asking you a stream of questions. “are you okay? did it feel good, baby? was it too much? did i go too hard? can you walk?” you smile at his worry and nod, but he isn’t satisfied. “i need words baby, words. need to hear you say it.” he says, insisting he must hear you say you’re okay. you can only chuckle at his concern. you can’t believe this was the same guy who sent you teasing pics and calls you his slut during bed. “yes, im okay. it felt good and you didn’t go too hard, don’t worry.” you say as you snuggle into his hand. “okay. let’s get you cleaned up.”

he moves to pick you up, but you grab his hands instead. “but what about you?” you ask. he looks at you confused, not understanding what you mean. “you, gyuvin. you got to please me today, but what about you? wanna make you feel good too..” he chuckles, and then offers you something. “say what, how about the next time we’re free you could just touch me however you’d like, and make me feel good. that sound good to you baby?” you nod and let go of his hand, letting him pick you up.

he sets you down on the bathroom counter so he can prepare a bath for you. once he’s done, he comes to you again. you speak up, “mm, thank you for always taking care of me. i love you, gyuv.” he smiles, his heart melting at your words. “of course love, that’s what i do. i would love to spoil and pamper you everyday if i could. i love you too, my pretty girl.” you lean in to kiss him (again) and quickly pull away so he can help you bathe.

he always knows how to make it up to you after distracting you while you’re still busy. he knows that you’re tense from the stress, so he wants to help you release that tension. even if it means seducing you to come over at his place :).

[burningcheese-merchant]

PLEASE FEED US MORE JUST AS DOWN BAD GOLDEN CHEESE. PLEASE MORE YANDERE CHEESE

Did you send two asks in a row screaming for more Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese lol. Calm down brotato, Merchant is here. Merchant sees you (and everyone else in my inbox I swear to God Almighty I will address you all eventually). Let me see what I've got in my noodle for you

Under the cut because this is fucked and gets a little extra graphic at one particular point lol

Golden Cheese actually has tried to gather the identities of those Burning Spice has murdered. What she wasn't able to glean on her own, from her own personal knowledge of other lands and peoples (i.e. noticing certain traits she knows to be endemic to certain cultures, like a hair accessory or something), she found in books and scrolls in her kingdom's library that gave her a better idea. Whatever she couldn't find in those, she found via sending cheesebirds to travel far and wide in search of any kingdoms, cities, villages, families and friend groups with confirmed missing persons. They would report back to her and, with all the knowledge she's gathered, she's able to find a name, which she then wrote onto a label and placed under the person it belonged to. She's managed to eventually give all the heads their identities/personhood back, at least to some degree. And now, knowing who these people are/were, she can get them back to their loved ones easier. Right? ...Right? (She tries not to progress beyond being proud of herself for going that extra mile, because it just leads back to "ok so why are the heads still here, why haven't you returned them". In trying to do the right thing, she ultimately just does the WRONG thing again and reinforces her preexisting guilt and shame, because... she knows exactly why she hasn't returned them...)

Golden has started... experimenting with Spice, for lack of a better term. After she was proven correct about him paying attention when she mentions someone she doesn't like and later killing that specific person for her, she starts testing him in other ways. She makes subtle suggestions about how he ought to kill people, to see how he responds in the moment and if he actually ends up doing it later. She tries to coax him into going into detail about how the killing went, just to see if and how he does so (turns out he really does like to brag about his crimes, especially to her). She tries to hint at him giving her other things besides body parts, like certain trinkets (it... sort of works. If she asks for a watch, he... brings her a severed arm with a watch attached to it still, for example). She's observing how far he'll go and in which direction he's willing to travel in at her suggestion. (...And she revels in how much power it turns out she has over him. She really does have him at her beck and call. It's lovely.)

When her friends ask her how she's been managing her Beast (they are aware that hers is still actively targeting her, but that's it), she acts as nonchalant as possible. Burning Spice is nothing. He's just a fly buzzing around her head. She handles him just fine. When they ask her how they can help, she tells them she doesn't need it, because she doesn't want them anywhere near him she really is fine. It's fine. She's fine. When they suggest going after him themselves... thank goodness she's a good actress and a quick thinker, because her very first REAL reaction was seething fury that she had to keep under control until she was alone again - but then, when she finally is, she just has another crisis of conscience, because now she has to confront the fact that she can no longer tolerate the notion of him being harmed by anyone besides herself. She used to want him dead or imprisoned by any means necessary, but now... now, she lies about his whereabouts to everyone who asks (and she always knows where he is, she snuck a tracking device onto him), because she doesn't want anyone coming near him for any reason anymore, least of all to harm him. Because only SHE can harm him now. He still comes to fight her, not just to give her things. And she obliges him, albeit begrudgingly (never mind the sick satisfaction she feels when she hurts him or takes him down. She wonders if this feeling is what he's referring to in those letters about him reveling in their battles and how he enjoys her suffering). She... she won't let that end. She won't let anyone get in the way. In his way. In THEIR way. She can handle him by herself. Everyone else can stay home. They won't take him away from her. She cannot guarantee their safety if they try.

She once idly wondered about his past. About the people he likely once had in his life. About... if he'd ever been fond of any other women. She could hardly fathom the hatred that utterly overwhelmed her senses when the thought entered her mind. So angry was she that she broke the glass of water in her hand in said anger and injured herself. So haunted by this notion did she end up, that she tried to ask him about it the next time they met (as subtly as possible; she understands the implications of asking such a thing). He just shrugged and said he didn't recall; the only woman that mattered to him was her. She hated how relieved she felt when he told her that...

...but after that day, and for a good while, he only targeted women. He kept killing adult women and bringing their heads to her, and no one else's. She quickly surmised that he might have noticed her jealousy (or at least imagined she was jealous) and immediately set out to prove his devotion to her further than before by destroying those she feels threatened by - even if the threat does not exist, for she is all he ever wanted. He never told her directly, but she figured that's what it was. And she allowed herself to believe it. Because it made her happy.

(When the women-only killing spree eventually ended, she was struck with morbid curiosity and asked him about the men he killed. Was there anything behind the ones he chose? He revealed to her that, though his targets were mostly random, he would go out of his way to kill any man that he thought she might find attractive. He was capable of feeling threatened, just like she was. It was quite the surprise... a surprise she welcomed, a surprise she found deeply amusing. Because really, what was left for her to find attractive in anyone anymore, when no one went as far as he did to earn her favor?)

She actually does find him handsome. She always has, from the beginning. It was something she considered to be a great shame; such good looks squandered on such a horrible man. But now... with her greed slowly spiraling out of control thanks to him constantly overfeeding it the way he does with his violent extremism... she's starting to dare to find that extremism handsome, too. She's slowly but surely ceasing to find any shame in the circumstance. She's starting to think he's handsome... and that's it, that's the end of the thought. He's handsome, with all of that blood coating his face and body. He's handsome, puffing his chest out and beaming with such sick pride at the handiwork he performed for her. He's handsome, in his maddened, unwavering dedication to her. He's handsome... no asterisk, no addendum, no ifs ands or buts. He's handsome. Burning Spice is handsome. It weighs on her like a stone. And it only gets heavier each time he sees him and his handsome face again.

Sometimes... just sometimes... she'll reread those letters that are particularly... steamy. There's something rather fascinating about them, in a different way than the others. They're so... uniquely visceral. She believes him when he tells her he's starving; his hunger practically lunges at her from the page, claws at her, sinks its teeth into her, sets her body alight. Pure, unashamed, blistering hot lust and sexuality, with some of that same addiction to violence mixed in (he's a sadomasochist, go figure). People have flirted with Golden before... but not like this. No one on earth has ever dared to speak to her so brazenly, not even after several pints of liquid courage. He talks about wanting to break her bed as well as she herself. He tells her how often he touches himself to the thought of her. He details exactly where he wants to put his hands. Where he wants to put his mouth. What he intends to say straight into her ears as they go, and what he wants her to say back to him. How he doesn't want to stop until they both collapse with exhaustion. Just neverending feverish rants about he wishes to destroy her in more ways than one, and how he expects her to scream and beg either way. She won't admit it, not even to herself, the thought tried to make itself known inside of her head once and she shoved it down and tried to bury it under concrete instantly, but... she's almost... intrigued. She's flattered, of course. She relishes this aspect of his insatiable appetite for her alongside all the others. (She likes being told she's pretty. He does that and then some.) But... some small part of her is... curious. Curious about... if he really would follow through on what he says he wants to do, if he really had the chance. How it would feel. How HE would feel. What the difference would really be between him overpowering her to win a fight and him overpowering her to... to...

...there are nights where she lays awake, drilling holes into the ceiling with her bloodshot eyes, wondering where it all went wrong. There are nights where all that succeeds in putting her to sleep are the warm, bitter tears that stream down her face when the guilt and shame grow too powerful. There are nights where she just gets up and leaves, throws herself out of her own window and flies off somewhere, anywhere, it doesn't matter - it just had to be somewhere she couldn't feel dozens of empty, lifeless eyes watching her through the walls. Judging her. Condemning her. Damning her to Hell, where she and the monster who ended their lives belonged.

...and then, there are nights where she feels... strange. Where she notices how... big her bed really is, and how small she feels laying in it. She wonders how it would feel if he was there. If she could nest in his thick, strong arms instead of thin bedsheets. How much more comfortable his chest would feel, compared to her pillow. If his hair was as soft as it looked. How he'd react if she started tracing his tattoos with her fingertips. If sharing a tender moment like that would awaken something in him. If it would somehow help him realize how wrong all of this is.

...Or maybe it would just make it worse.

Maybe she doesn't care anymore.