#catch me doing everything I can to not use mouse and keyboard

[silvergarnet12]

Venture! Unfortunately for me they have dragged me back into the hell that is Overwatch, I have been unsuccessfully ignoring their existence since their release and finally caved into re-downloading…

[mixingandmelting]

If it's not a bother for you, can you please write batfam (including Bruce) and superfam getting jealous when reader subtly mentions her ex when they do something similar to her ex bf. (e.g. reading a book/watching a show/an activity that her ex used to love etc.)

Thank you!!!

A/N: Hello Anon! Sorry that this was sitting in my drafts for so long... 😔 I wasn't sure if you were meaning literally everyone in both families (batboys, batgirls, Jace Fox, supergirls, superboys, etc.) which would've made this post even longer and taken more time... If there are characters not written here you specifically would like, let me know

BATFAM FEAT:

Bruce:

Everything he does is subtle. The stiffness in his muscles, the tick in his jaw. All you did was mention how the way he readjusted his Rolex around his wrist reminded you of your ex. But since when did the things he did remind you of the other guy? 

“Must be a thing.” He chuckles, the grip around on his mug tightening as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Bits and pieces of his control over his emotions continue to chip off. There’s irritation building up from sensing nostalgia in your voice when he casually asks about your ex. Under the pretext of curiosity, of course. A scowl set on his face hidden behind a newspaper without him knowing he’s making one. It’s to the point where he fails to school his expression on time when you push down the newspaper. For a moment you stare at him, shock and awe meeting cold and stormy. 

“Playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne… is jealous?” 

His eyes widen for a second. To think he was that jealous to where he couldn’t keep up a facade…

He frowns when your lips curl up into a grin. Let’s just say the two of you made up real quickly afterwards when he suddenly pulls your wrist towards him.

Jason:

Sure, people can be reminded of their ex but come on. He reminded you of yours over how he shakes his hair out after taking off his helmet? That’s way too oddly specific.

“From what? Riding a street bike?”  He snorts, placing his helmet on the bench next to him with a thud from restrained strength. 

His mind knows there’s nothing to think too hard about; your ex is an ex and he’s currently yours. But clearly his heart doesn’t, churning and coiling with awful emotions he’s all too familiar with. He goes to grab a rag and wrench for “extra maintenance” when it’s actually him finding it hard to keep himself cool-headed if he doesn’t keep himself busy. 

“Jason? Jason. Look at me. It’s not what you’re thinking of.”  The only indication that he’s listening is the glance he tosses over his shoulder, still unamused and an eyebrow raised.

“I-,” The eyebrow raises higher from your sigh, “You just do it so naturally and still manage to make it attractive, okay? My ex had to try, forcing a Justin Bieber’s hair flip. That’s all.”

He gets you to break into laughter when he grabs you by the waist and cuddles you, grumbling how you should’ve said so from the start.

Tim:

His fingers hover over the keys for a second. Then he goes back typing. Nothing is amiss albeit the sounds of the mouse and keyboard clicking a tiny bit louder. He’s not bothered. Nope. Even if it was over how he cracked open his can of energy drink with a single hand, he’s not overthinking it whatsoever. 

“Yeah?” 

His voice stays steady, masking his questions as curiosity while in a small corner of the monitor, he’s pulling up and scrolling through the file on your ex. Net worth? Minimal. Job? Mediocre. There’s nothing about your ex sharing this habit or any other habits with him. But he considers that his fault, having brushed the other as unnoteworthy (which he does with anyone who breaks your heart). He can feel annoyance bubbling inside of him from your reminiscence with the other and his inability to pass it off as a simple talk about exes. Wait. Was this why? Because of the one time he mentioned about his past relationships?

“...Tim? Are you jealous?”

“W-what? No.” 

He flushes when he catches your unimpressed expression on the reflection of the screen. Instantly, he’s turned around, surprised to comforted when you start showering him with affection. Later on, he gives in and quit trying to get back at your ex for hurting you.

Minkhoa Khan/"Ghost-Maker":

Many had purposely brought up their exes to him before, trying to poke him for attention or gauge for a reaction. And most often he’d smirk and indulge them, finding the action as “cute”. 

But right now, his lips are set into a straight line. Constantly swirling the champagne in his flute rather than drinking it down. 

“Oh, I reminded you of your ex?” 

Lacking the feeling for empathy or fear, he’s never had found himself feeling jealous especially over an old flame of his partner. Right now? His mind is filled with irrationality and possessiveness. More than peeved for such a small thing to trigger an unneeded memory. 

He’s not one to usually filter or hold back on his opinion.  However, currently, there’s twice as much sass and bluntness as he shares his thoughts on the other in response to how fond you sounded when talking about your ex’s shared habit with him where your eyes widen from how out of character he was behaving. 

“Oh my god, you’re so jealous!” 

He refuses to give you the satisfaction, choosing to stay quiet and finish his glass. But when you don’t stop gloating, his hand slowly makes its way towards your shoulder to have you stop in a more… efficient way.

SUPERFAM FEAT:

Clark Kent:

“O-oh, really? I didn’t know your ex wore glasses…”

It’s bothering him so much. He doesn’t like it  that your ex does the same thing as him with the whole pushing up glasses if they were to slide down ever so slightly. It goes from him clasping his hands in his lap to resting them on his thighs in fists. More from him trying to stop said habit than anything else. 

Frustration and restlessness is how he gets, shuffling every few seconds so he’d at least feel comfortable on the bench he shares with you. His smile more awkward and his voice more strained. He wants to be the good boyfriend that would support you in every way: emotionally, mentally, and physically. So he tries to stay empathetic but his response stays as half-hearted caused by the ugly emotion coursing in his heart and brain. 

“Clark…? You’re not possibly jealous, are you?” 

Instantly flusters, cheeks matching his Superman suit while he denies that he is. 

“No! I’m not jealous whatsoever!” He tries to endure your stare, only to sigh and wave the white flag. “Yeah…. I actually am.” 

He lets out a grunt when you wrap your arms around him, finally breaking into a smile when you call him a silly man and that you’re stuck to him with superglue.

Conner Kent:

He stops and turns towards you, an eyebrow cocked up. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. This?” He flicks up the collar of his leather jacket in front you. “Is a Superboy signature move originating from yours truly.” 

So obviously your ex was copying him.  Not similar or “doing the same thing”.  But apparently, you beg to differ. He keeps brushing his hair back and fiddle with his shades, trying to suppress his irk of you continuing to push that he is similar to the other. Huffing at every point you make and rolling his eyes. 

He just doesn’t get it. Why he’s feeling this way and why he can’t act like normal. It’s not his first time hearing something like this from others, taking it in stride and joking how he’s that amazing that everyone wants to be him. But That’s not what’s happening right now. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, toying with a can near his foot. 

“You’re jealous.”

“No???”

Jealous? Him? No. No way. He’s Superboy, why would he be jealous? Despite his denial, his face starts to resemble his pants as you accurately guess what was running through his mind. At least part of his dignity gets restored when you kiss his cheek, calling him cute to which he cheekily replies with a duh.

Kong Kenan:

The baseball lands into his hand with a satisfying plot while he’s looking at you with a confused gaze. 

“Me tossing baseballs… reminds you of your ex…” He’s careful and slowly enunciating each word, making sure he didn’t (more like he hopes) misheard you. 

He goes back tossing the baseball with pursed lips and blowing air through his nose. It’s only concern. Worry. There’s nothing that he and your ex share in common. So he’d think you wouldn’t stretch it that far about getting reminded over something mundane as tossing a baseball. 

His tosses get harder, his eyes straining from keeping them trained on the ball. He makes an effort to at least voice out that he gets it, quite literally saying exactly that as he proceeds to explain why you’re wrong E.g., he’s smarter. He’s skilled. He’s Superman-

“Kenan, you know you’re jealous. Right?”

He startles, snapping his head towards you.

“What do you mean? I’m just saying-”

Trust for it to happen as soon as he takes his eyes off, the baseball would come falling on his head.  Coiling over, he yelps then scowls with tinted cheeks. At least you comfort him in the midst of your laughter, rubbing circles on his back which releases the tension in him as you promise you have no intentions of leaving him.

[13a07s]

Nothing Sweeter Than Sugar

(Kenma Kozume)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to mafuyukii]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,265

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Sugar, Daddy, Good Girl, Baby, Sweetheart

Sugar Daddy - Ness Mentioned

Anxiety (Specifically, Visiobibliophobia)

Self-harm (scratching)

Sexual Tension

———————————————————————

     "I don't know what I'm doing," I mutter, pressing random buttons on Kenma's keyboard, doing 'my best not to die' as he asked. I don't know how he does it. The few minutes I've sat here for him have all been distracting and overwhelming. The constant rolling comments on his live stream, the awareness of being on camera, and everything happening in the game is a lot to keep up with.

The soft 'hmph' Kenma has a habit of letting out wisps against my ear, tipping me off to his presence before his hands on my shoulders can. "It looks like you're not messing up my game," he whispers, making sure the microphone of his headset doesn't pick up on it. "Good girl."

A mix of giddiness and embarrassment mixes on my cheeks. I didn't do anything in the game while he was gone so I don't believe I deserved the praise. But, praise from Kenma is rare so I revel in it when I can.

My praise doesn't stop there. My boyfriend reaches his hand in front of me, briefly covering his camera. The mandator to our left goes grainy and dark, mirroring what his viewers are seeing, or well, what they're not seeing. The chat starts dinging faster than before, snips of people questioning why their video is darkened and trying to catch Kenma's attention speed across the mentor to the right.

     "Good job, Sugar," he repeats, his free hand ghosting over my neck, pushing my hair out of his way. His fingertips are slowly replaced by his lips, a gentle, almost phantom kiss being pressed to the back of my neck. "I appreciate it," he continues to praise, beginning to trail his ghostly kisses up my neck, his path ending behind my ear.

     I can't help the squeak that spills out. It's not usual that Kenma is affectionate and even less common for him to initiate said affection. The realization that there's an audience that just heard the pathetic mouse impression that squeezed out of me settles on my chest. The mix of giddiness and embarrassment grows on my skin, specifically heating the dying path his kisses took.

Kenma softly chuckles, carefully pulling his headset off me to put it back in its rightful place on his head. I catch a glimpse of my flustered expression on the monitor.

"Hey, sorry guys, I had to take a call," Kenma shortly explains to his fans, fixing his mic. His golden eyes glow as they stare down at me, his body focused on adjusting his headset but his eyes stay focused on me. The sharp shape and attention of them make me squirm, my blush and flustering feelings quickly becoming too much. "Everyone say thank you to my girlfriend for stepping in for me."

'You little shit, stop,' I mouth, making sure to turn so the camera can't bear into my very being any longer. It makes Kenma silently laugh, his eyes shining even more with amusement. I swear, he picked up streaming just to embarrass me every chance he gets.

     Kenma's chest vibrates with the sound of his next round of joy. It's real laughter this time, echoing in the chilled game room instead of the mute or almost mute sound he usually makes when he's joyful. "You know," he starts, his body still after his laughing fit stops. A sharp grin rests on his face, fighting against the sharpness of his eyes for the award of deadliest. "Most babies know better than to call their Sugar Daddy a little shit."

     "You're not my Sugar Daddy and you are a little shit."

     "Sure, Sugar," he coos, his voice warm despite the belittling undertone of it. "Why don't you be a good girl and go take a bath for Daddy? I'm sure your nerves could use it. You're pretty much dripping in anxiety."

"Little shit," I hiss, even though he's right. I like sitting with Kenma in his game room. I even like being in here with him while he's streaming. I don't like being part of the streaming; at least not on camera. That tacked with him openly teasing me on his stream, and it doesn't take long until I'm overwhelmed, which is quickly knotting a ball of anxiety in my stomach.

     His eyes swim over me for a long moment before flicking toward the door, another command to leave and take care of myself. Surprisingly, Kenma's anxieties haven't ever fed into mine. If anything, it helps him notice my coping mechanisms - like my middle finger tapping an unheard beat against my thumb - and helps him redirect my energy - taking a warm bath until my mind is soothed.

     "Go."

     The single word hangs in the air as we stare at each other, tempting each other to give in. As always, the feeling of eyes on the back of my neck wears me down a lot quicker than Kenma. "Fine," I mutter, climbing out of his plump, stereotypical gamer chair. I wish I was as comfortable on camera as I am talking through his mic. I know his fans are always hounding him about having me in more videos and streams.

     "Good," he grumbles, sliding past me to take up the seat I was just in. "Hello again," Kenma greets his viewers, getting situated to focus on his game and his fans again. "Sorry for the long wait. Shit comes up, you know?" The continuous click of comments flowing through elevates again with his full arrival, a mix of understanding and pissy fans voicing their thoughts.

     I stay still next to his chair for a few more moments, watching him get back into his groove, my eyes snapping back to the monitor every few seconds to make sure I'm not in the frame. "You know," I start, leaning closer to his headset so the viewers can hear my voice. "Don't let Kenma fool you. Despite how he acts, he's quite the bottom in bed. An hour ago, the guy was on his knees offering two thousand just to touch me - eh!"

My personal life spilling is cut short by Kenma jerking toward me, pinching my side to get me to shut up. A glare, with a tiny hint of amusement whipping through his irises, is shot my way. "That's private information. Incorrect private information, might I add," he grumbles, aiming the lie toward his viewers.

     "That's bullshit and you know it," I whisper, keeping my voice soft so it's not picked up.

     Slowly, lazy gold drips down my body, melting over my curves as Kenma stretches out a hum. His humming pauses for a moment, starting up again when his eyes backtrack their trail. My stomach does somersaults, heat blooming over my skin again as he etches every detail of me into his mind. No matter how many times he does it, I always feel squirmy with embarrassment and staticy with need. Need he can't fulfill right now.

     "I know," Kenma finally exhales, the expensive metal color of his eyes glued to my shirt collar. The small red and purple nicks left behind by his teeth earlier in the day burn under his stare. "I also know you need to go calm down before you scratch your skin off. Itching isn't going to make the feeling go away."

     My body freezes, trying to make sense of what my boyfriend just said. With the pause, a burning sensation quickly loops around my forearm, tugging my eyes down to investigate. My nails are dug into my skin, long red trails left in their wake, overlapping and crisscrossing all over my arm. It's another coping mechanism, a super unhealthy one that I've been struggling to ditch for years. It usually surfaces when I feel like I'm being watched, like now.

     "Sorry, I didn't realize I was doing it," I mutter, loosening my hold on my arm. I carefully run my thumb over the scratching, checking the state of them. They're not deep and none of them are bleeding. I'm sure they'll all fade away within an hour or so.

     "No need to apologize, Sugar," Kenma coos, his voice soothing this time instead of teasing. "Go take a bath and relax. You know where I'll be when you're done." He sends me a wink before turning back to his screens, apologizing to his fan base again.

     Despite his main focus being back into his game, I can still feel the flicker of his eyes, trailing after me as I leave the room. The heat of it stays occasionally licking at my heels even as I head down the hallway, the doorframe separating us threatening to burst into flames simply from Kenma's repeating glances.

     As I head toward the bathroom I make a mental note to set a timer. The last thing I need is for him to be distracted from his fans again because he's worried I'm not doing okay or that I fell asleep in the bath again.

                    ————————————

     "Shit. Shit, shit, shit," Kenma's strained voice grumbles, not quite a shout but above his resting volume. The soft buzz of fake gunshots mix with his cursing, the soft noise easing the small flick of anxiety threatening to spark.

     I don't know why my anxiety always spikes when it comes to Kenma streaming or anything having to do with his social media. For someone terrified to the masses about being judged by internet strangers, I have a very social media present partner.

     At least he's pretty understanding about it and doesn't push my comfort zone too hard. I will say, that I've been to a lot of beautiful parties and award ceremonies and such because Kenma has gently pushed me to attend with him.

     I stand just inside the room, leaning against the door frame as I admire Kenma, soaking in the warm feeling of being understood and loved despite my irrational fears. My fingertips wrap around the hem of his favorite sweatshirt, enjoying the comfort of it as my eyes roll over him the same way he did to me before my lavender and Epsom salt bath.

     I thought he looked adorable with dye blonde, root showing hair in high school, but now? With his man bun and the long streaks of natural black that melt into blonde? With his hair comfortably draped above his shoulders? There's been more than once that I've been distracted by Kenma tying his hair up alone.

     "How long are you going to stare, Sugar?" His voice rings sweet, a one-eighty from the tone he held earlier. Kenma's eyes flick to the side for a moment, observing his comments before focusing on me again. "They want you to say hi if you want. You don't have to," the small ramble is buffered by his focus on his game, my boyfriend's way of seeming calm. I know he's weird I'll get stressed again, evident in the tightness of his shoulders and slightly rougher stroke of his keyboard.

     "I don't mind saying hi," I tell him, the footsteps of my slippers melting into the cream carpet of the room.

I settle behind his chair, resting against it with my arms around his neck, hands dangling on his chest. I keep my breath steady as I check the screen to the side. Nothing but my arms wrapped in the comfort of Kenma and my perfectly maintained nails are in frame. Perfectly fine by me. It's his sweatshirt and the nails he chose for me that they're able to judge.

Kenma's focus stays on his game for a few more seconds, finishing whatever task it is he's doing. Once he's finished with... collecting ammo, I think?... he tips his head up to look at me. "Hey, Sugar. Are you doing okay?"

"I'm good," I hum, gently running my fingernails over his clothed chest.

His eyes melt over me in their slow and lazy trail like always, melting with my still-tinted red skin from the warm water, and widening a bit when they fall to his sweatshirt wrapped around me. "Are you wearing my sweatshirt?" I nod, yes, toying with his headset, clicking it into a bigger setting before clicking it back to the right size. Kenma's eyes slit, curiously jerking around the fabric as his hand comes up to close around his mic, cutting our voices off from his fans. "Only my sweatshirt?"

"More or less," I murmur, rubbing my bare thighs together. I did put undergarments on, mostly - only - because he promised to go to dinner once he's done with his twelve-hour streaming session. My eyes glance at the clock, three hours down, nine to go. Plenty of time to lay around the house in comfy clothes.

"You're teasing," he quietly hisses, his frustration from earlier lying dormant, at least until now. I may, or may not have, started teasing Kenma knowing he only had thirty minutes until his stream started. I may, or may not have, also told him his begging was inadequate to get what he wanted before his stream too.

I shrug my shoulders, a soft smile hanging on my lips as my nails crawl up his chest, gently rolling across his throat. "I think you deserve it, Baby. Calling me a good girl, referring to yourself as Daddy, ordering me around. I think someone forgot who's really in charge."

Kenma's eyes are wide now, cheeks dusted a soft pink as he looks up at me. "I only... I... you were all worked up and... I just... I wasn't trying - "

I softly giggle at his stuttering, his little attitude act breaking at the first sign of me throwing my weight around. Kenma might not be as shy or reserved as he was when we first met, but he's the same blushing boy who turned as pink as a peach the first time I offered to blow him.

"Your fans are waiting," I cut off his flustered words, jerking my head toward the chat made up of a million questions, all circled around why they can't hear him and why he's tucked behind a bush in the game.

"Right," he drags out the word, his still pink-dusted face slowly falling to look at his screens again. "Say hi, Sugar," Kenma whispers, uncertainly letting go of his microphone so it can pick up the sound of us better. His skin tints a darker shade of pink when I lean closer to talk into his mic.

"Hey guys! Sorry to keep pulling Kodzuken away from ya. I hope you're all doing well and enjoying the stream! I'm sure I'll pop back in soon." Once I'm done talking to his fans, I pull away from him, running through what I'm going to do for the next nine hours. My book is still tucked away by one of his monitors. Maybe I'll read that in the bean bag chair as he plays.

Kenma turns in his chair, jerking toward me again, this time to wrap his arms around my waist instead of pinching me. "Where are you going?" He asks, trying to keep his tone steady, but a bit of a whine still sneaks through.

"I think I'm going to go read, maybe take a nap when my eyes get tired," I murmur, running my nails through his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

His eyes slowly blink as his hands focus on kneading at my stomach, toying with his sweatshirt hanging on me. "Sit with me?"

     "Of course, Baby. I always do."

"No, with me," he murmurs, hands sliding down to grip my hips, gently tugging on me.

     "I don't want to be on camera."

     "It'll just be a section of your back and the ends of your hair. Nothing else," he whispers, his hands sliding down to gently push on the back of my knees. When they buckle, Kenma swoops me up, positioning me on his lap, chest to chest. "Please?"

     My arms settle over his shoulders as I get comfortable on his lap, toying with the loose strands of hair that have slipped from his bun. "Just my back?"

     Kenma softly hums, fingertips slowly crawling up my thighs to poke under the end of his sweatshirt clinging to them. His chair softly sways back and forth as his eyes trail over me. My man of a million words with barely a thousand spoken, but that's okay. His soft looks and constant awareness of me are enough.

     After another beat, he whips the chair back around, jumbling me in his lap and making me giggle. "Alright, back to the game," Kenma mutters, checking his camera and the monitor to stay true to his promise. "Brought to you with the guest appearance of my Sugar's back and split ends."

     "I don't have split ends Mr. Half-Dye!" I tease back, honking his bun a few times. "Meanie."

     "A meanie you're distracting, Sugar," he whispers stretching his arm across his desk to grab my book for me. He stops for a moment, flashing it at the camera. "Here's the most recent porno my girlfriend is reading."

     "It's not a porno!" I shriek, lunging to try and snatch my book away from him.

     "Totally is," he grumbles, letting me take my book back. Kenma settles into place, chin on my shoulder, slightly hunched over so he can see the screen and be pressed against me. Our bodies melt into each other, finding comfort and familiarity in the position along with each other.

     My arms settle over his shoulders again, cracking open my book to keep reading my romance story that Kenma insists is just difficult pornography. The sounds of the room mix with my reading. His soft curses and conversation with his fans, the ticking of the stream chat, the soft buzz of his game in his headphones, and the soothing tapping of his keyboard.

     Occasionally, my eyes flicker between his monitors, checking to make sure I'm in frame how I'm comfortable. My eyes skirt over to the chat as well, glancing over it. A lot of it is gibberish about his game that I don't understand, a few nasty comments about my presence and Kenma's constant distraction with me, and a few comments gushing over the two of us.

A soft sigh spills from Kenma, his arms wrapping around me, and his head burying into my neck. "I almost lost that round. I guess I'm losing my touch."

     "You're not losing your touch. I'm sure it was just a difficult round."

     "Probably, Sugar," he murmurs, brushing a kiss to the side of my throat. Slowly, Kenma pulls away from me, situating himself in a more relaxed position. I squirm to adjust as well, perched on his lap like a prized trophy.

     His eyes flicker around, looking at all his screens before settling on the chat. Kenma's soft voice mixes with my reading again as he answers questions and talks with his fans. His hand slowly paws at my thigh, rubbing against the chilled skin. "Sugar?" He calls with a drop of sweetness in his tone.

     "Hmm?"

     "The viewers want to know why I call you sugar."

     "Because I'm your Sugar Baby and you're my Sugar Daddy, duh," I teasingly answer, leaning forward to spill the answer into his microphone.

     The familiar warmth of embarrassment warms my face as Kenma's eyes melt over me, his hand sliding up from my thigh to the middle of my back. He gently pushes on it, making it arch downward. "The real reason, Sugar."

     "Because I'm your high school Sweetheart, and there's nothing sweeter than Sugar."

[thegodthief]

'Tis But A Game

Dreamt of an immersive MMORPG that all the "cool kids" (read: anyone younger than me) were playing. Players entered the world as "witches" and would play through an individual story line that occasionally called for group attacks on key NPC and locations.

My daughter got me to create an account and play. She was confident that my old ass would be able to not only catch up to her character level, but that I would exceed it quickly. Turns out, the immersive nature of the game meant you weren't limited by keyboard and mouse, only your intuition.

I started in the tutorial island, with a simple black robe and matching witch hat, and a styrofoam broom as my weapon and steed. She wasn't kidding about the immersive nature of the game. Everything felt real and tangible. She walked me through the initial quests and then it was time to level up.

The quest to leave the tutorial island was to mount the broom and fly over the chasm that separated it from the game's mainland. From there, I would have to navigate an obstacle course designed to test my connection to the elements before presenting myself to the Witchtree to be judged.

Along the way, my daughter encountered some friends of hers who were delighted that her mom was in the game. I quickly collected an impromptu coven of new and experienced players that became invested in my advancement. They showed me tricks to the game and cheered each encounter.

Someone spent money to bestow a custom title on me. "Witch Mom" My daughter laughed to see it. Even though I was the newest player, I had picked it up quick, so other new players assumed I was a mentor of some kind and would ask me to show them techniques. The coven encouraged it.

Finally, it was time for our group to enter the main world. I was last to arrive at the launch point, but I was able to observe how the experienced players mounted their brooms and flew across the chasm. I helped other players do the same until it was just me and my daughter remaining.

"Just like this, Mom!" She grabbed her broom and held it out. Without a word, she jumped and it moved forward with her momentum. Her character slipped into a side-saddle position on the broom and she hovered over me.

"Yours is wood though. This is kid-safe foam. It collapses under my grip and isn't going to bear my weight."

"Mom, you forgot! We're in a game. None of this is real. If you perceive it to be inadequate, then it will be. Part of the game is about focusing your will and I know how stubborn you are!"

I did forget. The NPC repeated the same set of instructions over and over. Across the chasm, the coven were cheering and calling for me to catch up to them. I stood on the launch point and felt the winds swirling around me. Game or no, I know this feeling. I knew what to do.

I held the foam broom out the same way my daughter held hers, but, instead of trying to jump on the shaft to bear me across, I willed the broom to shape the winds to bear me instead. Using the broom like a joystick, I flew across the chasm to the waiting coven.

"Hey, that's an advanced move! How did you do that, Witch Mom? I thought this was your first time playing!" "That's the starter broom, it can't move air like that, air moves it!" "Hey, kid, there's something about your mom that you're not telling, huh. What is she offline?"

Daughter looked at me and I just nodded in acceptance. "Mom's a witch offline. Kinda. It's complicated, but occult magic is her thing." The coven of players fell silent.

An advanced player quietly said, "Most offline witches look at us like trash. Like our MMO is mocking them or something. What do you think of the game, Witch Mom?"

"I think it's fun! What you think of yourself determines what you can do. This is encouraging."

"How so, Witch Mom?"

"You can have the most rare tools as a real witch. You could have a hundred spirits at your command. But if you have no sense of self, those tools are worthless. This game forces you to consider yourself first. How is that bad?"

The player that spoke up came to me. Now that they were close to me, the game told me they were an end-game player, having completed all the quests and trials. Their garb was as plain as my starter robes and hat. To anyone else, we were both novice initiates.

"I was going to give you some gear, but you don't need it. Instead, as someone who is not a witch offline, let me give you some advice. What you just said applies to mundane matters as well as occult. It's not the clothes that determines who you are, but who you are within them."

They turned to the waiting coven around us. "Alright, so you know how to fly! But, do you know how to move within the world? The Witchtree is waiting for us! Let us prove ourselves worthy!"

The coven cheered and began running to the next quest marker: The Trial of Elements.

Again, I was the last to enter the trials. But I was one of the first to emerge. The immersive nature of the game meant that I could call on my offline wooishness to navigate the challenges within the game's framework. When I stepped out of the trial, the advanced player stopped me.

"Let everyone else meet the Witchtree first. If this goes how I think it will, I do not want other new players to be disheartened when they can't duplicate your method of success." I agreed and waited to the rear of the area.

I watched other players, fresh from the trial and renewed by game mechanics, approach the massive tree that dominated the hilltop. I realized that the path of the trial had been formed by its roots, and that the Witchtree had been watching us this entire time.

The Witchtree is an individual encounter that others could witness but not interfere with. Each player would approach the Witchtree and be individually challenged by the elements of fire, water, earth, and air in that order. The challenge was tailored to the player's performance in the trials.

Failing an element would not fail the quest. Some players took the easiest route of just doing nothing and failing all elements. Most players gave it their best shot to varying degrees of success and failure. Very few players beat all four elements.

After that was an individual conversation with and judging by the Witchtree. The player would be asked what is their goal in life (within the context of the game). The Witchtree would then bestow upgraded armor and/or broom based on the answer.

Players that did the bare minimum received barely upgraded gear. Players that gave it their all but failed were given gear that supported their weaknesses. Players that gave it their all and triumphed were given gear with unique looks or titles.

"So, tell me Witch Mom, why do I dress plain here?"

I looked at them. "To not draw attention to yourself and make yourself a target of the PVP gloryhounds here. You have already out-leveled the gear needed for these areas. But there's always some fool that wants to prove themselves your better."

"Are you going to continue in the game after the Witchtree?"

"Probably not. I'm already playing this offline. If anything, it's showing me what I need to pay attention to there if I am going to continue on that path. I'm really here to make my daughter happy. It's something we can share."

"It's good to share things with the people you care about." They looked back at the slowly dwindling numbers. "When you meet the Witchtree, give it your all, please. I know this is just a game to you, but like you said, it is revealing things you wouldn't see any other way."

Finally, it was just me and the end-game player remaining before the Witchtree. I knew they could come and go from this zone at will, so I offered to shake their hand as a farewell. They accepted, but wanted to stay to observe my results.

"Why are you here, Witch?" Something about the Witchtree's question made me pause. I realized that the script called for the player to be addressed as "Initiate", but I was addressed as "Witch". This title was reserved for those who completed the first group battle. Too soon for my character.

I answered with the game's prompt. "I am here to discover my power and my place."

The Witchtree responded as scripted. "Your power is what I give to you and your place is where I bid you to."

I replied with the game's prompt again. "My power is what I make it to be and my place is where I am."

"Then, do you challenge me, Witch?" The wrong title again. I began to taste iron in my mouth. Something wasn't right with this game.

I kept to the script. "I do, as I challenge any that would stand against me."

"Then, be broken and humbled." That was NOT the game's script. The Witchtree is supposed to be a supportive character, not a sudden enemy. But before I could call out to the end-game player, the elemental trials began.

If I had relied only on what the game had taught as proper for the character, I would not have survived the first assault of Fire. But, as both my daughter and the end-game player knew, I drew on my offline witchy understanding and intuition.

Each element assaulted me with full intention of unmaking me. I heard the end-game player call out, "Be true to yourself, Witch, and don't hold back!" I realized that I was dreaming. Right. Weaver, it is, then.

I drew on my years of lucid dreaming and path-working to first defend myself against the elements, and then to retaliate and counter in turn. Drawing on my skills, tools, and understandings, I brought my entire self into the game. Fire, Water, and Earth fell quickly.

Air, an element I have not achieved certain milestones with in my offline life, almost broke me. Just because Weaver has a raven aspect doesn't mean that all matters of air come easy to them. The fight against Air was drawn out and bloody, but Weaver triumphed in the end, barely.

My gear was ripped and torn. The tip of the witchhat had been neatly severed and the crown of my bloodied head was exposed. The gloves had been burnt off by fire and my fingers were nearly black from Earth's blight attacks. I struggled to breathe and had to keep reminding myself that I'm dreaming.

The poor foam broom was a cooling puddle of plastic slag behind me. The ground around me in the quest circle was still settling. My ears were ringing. I could not sense anything outside of the quest circle. It suddenly expanded to include the Witchtree.

The Witchtree moved. Great branches lowered themselves like arms and extended towards me. From their extremities hung clothes. A plain black robe. A new black hat. New gloves, pants, and durable shoes. It broke off one of its smaller branches and gave me a new broom. I dressed quickly.

"Well done. Weaver."

I looked up at the Witchtree in surprise. It felt like I had seen that tree before even as I recognized its appearance to be a mashup of at least three distinct species. It laughed and its appearance changed. The end-game player now stood before me.

They came close and pulled a cloth from their robes. "Here. [Static.] You will need this as well, both for the reasons you think and the reasons you have yet to discover." They wrapped a gauzy shawl loosely around my head and neck like an hijab.

"If you decide to continue in this game, know that it will be much harder for you than it will be for others, /Witch Mom/, because you know that this game and /that/ game are the same. You are most yourself when you're not trying to live up to expectations, after all."

"Be yourself, please. Be yourself and break those that would break you. Humble those that would humble you. And that includes yourself as self-deprecation makes you your own worst enemy."

They called their broom to their hand and pointed to a new path leading down the far side of the hill. "If you want to continue playing in this sandbox of a dream, follow that path to catch up to the other players."

They stepped close and pointed to my heart. "If you want to find out just what the hell you even are, follow this path to catch up with your selves."

"Farewell for now, Weaver. Do level up, in this world or the other. I look forward to seeing what you are capable of when you are fully yourself." They hopped on their broom and flew away to catch up with the novice coven. They took my "Witch Mom" title with them and bore it themselves.

Night fell in the game and the empty hilltop felt desolate as darkness crept up from all around. I looked at my in-game character and saw just how many of Weaver's markings were softly glowing upon it. Accepting the lucidity, I logged out of the game, and in doing so, woke up.

[ageless-aislynn]

Dear friends, I believe it's time to send a computer exorcist to my humble dwelling place. The reason I've been gone (if you've noticed I've been gone) for the past few days? 5 more blue screens of death and one refusal to completely shut down.

The utter heartbreak of these things? This is a new computer. My dad got it for me for Christmas.

I've been in charge of a computer for at least 20 years now. I've dealt with many problems, I've caused my fair share of problems through just ignorance at the start, through not checking things out thoroughly enough before installing them or whatever (again, at the start). I've dealt with viruses, malware, just weird borked up problems that develop over time as a computer ages. But I've never had multiple computers act like this at the same time.

It's got to be me. But I don't know how or why. This issue started with my poor Mass Effect: Andromeda again. I installed Steam and then Halo and everything ran perfectly (this girl has more RAM so the graphics are GORGEOUS). I installed MEA and when I tried to launch it, I got thrown into a loop of blue screen-reboot-blue screen-reboot 4 times. I finally got it out of that and started researching the problem. Turns out my graphics card driver, which was supposed to support DirectX 12, had a big ol' blank where it came to DirectX. Updated the driver, MEA could launch without dying.

That night, I shut the computer down, everything looked normal, the monitor went off, the keyboard and mouse shut down, but the pc itself stayed powered on. Dead but humming away, utterly unable to be reached by mouse or keyboard. 😐 Had to hard shut it down, then this morning, discovered that it was an known issue with a Windows update. 😑 At least you can uninstall updates.

Then while I was sitting here just looking at my email... blue screen. Oh, didn't you know that that wasn't the right Network adapter driver? Silly girl! Updated it.

Now I'm just staring at it, waiting for the next disaster. I legit feel cursed right about now. I don't see how I could've anticipated any of the above but yet... I'm sure it's somehow my fault. Just like whatever else goes wrong. It'll be my fault for wanting a working computer, I guess. I feel SO BAD for my dad. He wanted to do something so nice and awesome for me (and he DID) and I didn't want to tell him about all of these issues but he came through during one of the blue screen moments so there was no hiding it.

Otherwise, it's an amazing computer, has so much power and if I can just get it past these weird driver issues (everything is updated now, done directly, not using the Windows update thing), I think she'll be a great, awesome pc friend.

I just wish I didn't feel so cursed right now. This is such a wonderful gift and I feel terrified to be happy about it because then something else goes wrong.

Also, apropos of nothing but I truly dislike Windows 11 emojis. Where are my cute emojis? Now they all look as borked up as I feel! 😱😱😱 (Depending on your device, they probably look exactly the same as they did before, of course. 😉But to me? They looked CURSED. 😨)

The ones on the left are the ones I'm used to. The ones on the right are trying to look 3D, I guess? But at a small size, they just look weird and unclear or something to me. Not a big deal, I'll adapt, but I'm an emoji girl, y'all know that if you've been around me long enough, and this makes me feel like I'm suddenly speaking with an unfamiliar accent or something.

Ending with the minor issue. I'll hopefully catch back up with everything I've missed ASAP if my new girl can outrun the out-of-the-box driver issues she's been plagued with. Poor, sweet girl. I know she's good, they just gave her a terrible start. 🤗

THAT'S NOT THE RIGHT HUG EMOJI. 😭OH MAN THIS ONE IS EVEN WORSE.

*sigh* Goodbye for now, frens. Love you. 💖

[bearpillowmonster]

Prince of Persia (2008)

This is actually the first PoP game that I bought because, well-

Just look at it. It appealed to me most, he's got what looks like a cybernetic hand, a blue and red head scarf keeping some sort of mystery about him, nice balance between grit and cartoon. And really even the gameplay, a big wide open world, and the girl stays right along side you. It was the makings of something great, but then...I played it.

I don't even know if it was two hours. I just felt like I had enough, like I had seen everything it had to offer already and here's why:

STORY

Background information first. The game has a decent story with the Prince looking for this donkey that has a bunch of treasure alluding for an adventure that happened off screen when he comes across Elika who is being chased and one thing leads to another and she releases darkness out of a tree. Ok, maybe that doesn't sound too great but it's more character based. The struggle between her and her father is interesting as you see the darkness overtake him, which gives you all the reason to bring an end to this madness. You see flashbacks of her because she doesn't really want to talk about what's going on or give you context so it's fed to you little by little, she's not even interested in the Prince, she just sees him as beneficial to her journey and over time the two grow fond of each other, which is how it should be.

The cartoony nature lets for a variety of unique animations, like her climbing on your back when you're climbing up vines, doing a little twirl when you switch positions, catch each other when they fall and just overall a ton of fun stuff that makes up for the fact that you can't play as her. Unfortunately, the Prince really just makes jokes, he isn't given much, they made him too pun-oriented as even Nolan North was confused by it but whatever, it's a disconnect. So what's the issue here?

THE PREMISE

Well, you have to get your fair share of light orbs- wait an effing second-

Yeah, that but it's the whole game. Like there aren't even enemies to keep you busy really. It splits the map up into sections where you climb these huge towers and trek landscapes to get to what amounts to a fountain, you fight a boss at the fountain, unlock it, and poof, light appears so you backtrack through the level (which does have varying paths but you definitely backtrack) in order to collect the orbs. There're little dark blobs that block your way sometimes and platforms can indeed have an enemy every now and then but it's not rewarding for anything, you don't get light, you don't get currency, you don't get anything, they're just another obstacle, not anything special, just a random nuisance.

COMBAT

The combat is a lot different, it has a sort of fighting game element where it locks you in a battlefield, and you skirt around each other like Contest of Champions. It's not "bad" but it can be annoying because of the control scheme. I learned it over time but it basically creates its own buttons. Red glove. What does it refer to? What did you map that button to? Grey glove, uh, block? Sword is obvious. But it doesn't show you the buttons, just the symbols and it's not much more in depth than that. I played this on PC and honestly those colors resemble the Xbox control style, the PS3 version has the actual buttons (and I don't have an Xbox controller so I had to fight with my PS4 controller to figure it out) but I think it helped that I played with a controller this time around because I used a keyboard and mouse on that dropped playthrough.

You get the rapid press sometimes but it's not necessarily how fast you press it, it's how early you start. And like sumo wrestling, getting too close to the edge for either of you will lock you in a heated quick time event to launch the other over the edge.

Perhaps one of the divisive parts though is that you don't "die". It's like this, falling will just have Elika catch you and put you at the last platform. Fighting, you're given a chance to save yourself with a quick-time event and even if you fail, the enemy just heals themself a little.

Then you have the "hub" of sorts which leads to the temple but traveling this empty wasteland takes a while because of your walk speed. I don't mind it in the confinement of these areas with the structures but when there's nothing there and you're just trekking...speed it up. Luckily if you unlock the fountain then you can fast travel.

They even have cool traversal methods that you learn by taking so many light orbs back to the temple (in the hub) but they're not free abilities, they're limited to where the spaces are.

The "power plates" eww, that's their official name? You couldn't say like "Ephereal Tiles" or some sort of lore based jargon like spirit energy emits from them, juicing you up with power for a short burst? Spirit Burst?

And you have what amounts to this huge wide open and lush background painstakingly created with breathtakingly beautiful places that you can't wait to explore but you barely even notice them. Like you probably see this picture and think what fun is in store for that place and what set-piece it might hold but the camera pits you against these wood and stone structures and that's about it, the rest goes relatively unnoticed, you don't go and walk around these places at all like you'd expect.

WHAT BROUGHT ME BACK

This.

A three hour video but a well made one at that. He mentioned that it's enjoyable playing as a side gig, just something to turn music on and play like it's Minecraft parkour and so I lodged that in the back of my brain and here I am, with a new approach and a new opinion on a game that I thought I'd never return to.

So I'm done complaining because I did indeed keep coming back to it and enjoying myself by viewing it from a movement standpoint. And yeah, it's not the best use of its appealing assets but I still found something in it.

[wh-da-backup]

lyric stubs uploaded nov 2009

here are a bunch of lines i jotted down in hopes of making them lyrics… and then they never amounted to anything. for the most part, they have no melodies, so i guess they're technically poetry. (dashes denote a separate writing/train of thought)

everyone must play a role

and that's why life is round

try to live life split

and you'll just tear yourself apart

you think you're so funny little comedians you think your scales will all blend in playing on words like tender keyboard hearts

I'm laughing my head off

we met in a conference slept in a briefcase what is left on your resume

when this all goes away

you're right, I guess I'll never learn

I'm not unkempt just unconcerned

not much anyone can do there's two of me and only one of you words come to my mouth

I have a feeling you'll soon be by yourself

and the lines on the paper

are growing like cancer

eye in eye we see the say mind in mind we wish, we pray

hand in hand we'll walk away

I've never had anything against a healthy dose of someone else's angst.

I listen to the radio

and whisper to myself

my long-juggled problems collide in the air

you always get the better of me

you can have it

everyone else

just jumped off a bridge

the government bribes the media the media bribes the brain they can get you to believe anything

with fantasies of fame

I've got memories as vivid as blood in place of faded scars I'd much rather have amnesia

and wonder how they got from where they were to where they are

I have no use for useless things I've half a mind to mind that the other half is gone oh, nevermind being wrong

and you seem to know everything and I have never known anything and you want to know all about me

and I don't know what answering means

they don't know they're on a string he drew them in and grabbed them by their laughter

I refused to go fought back against the pull, or did I? pour another round of cat-and-mouse

on me

a rusted swing, a different way to sing. a butterfly, a net, a cage, an innocent eye.

to walk, to run, to swim, to grow, to not know where to begin. to wish for things, to whisper things…

and all that I, and all that I have come to know and all that I,

and all that I have come to know is gone or skewed in vision

lovers and friends and the weather and fraying ends don't put your trust into anything volatile

all's but a came of throw and catch 'll make you retch just dodging bullets

I miss the innocence you tore right out of them it kept on beating in your

cold-blooded hands

convicting evidence constricting my defense

why must it be so hard to lie?

backstroke. swimming on yet another paint stroke. stroking your cheek until it's been worn through,

another hole for lies to crawl into.

gravity is limiting, overrated, promising. I promise that you'll fall. I can promise you right now you'll fall. bound to a rock that circles a fire I promise that I'll fall.

I can promise you right now I'll fall.

your heartbeats were earthquakes your gravity strong the seizmograph told me today you were gone I'll miss the thunderstorms

the dry wooden boards of my life coming loose I'd listen to music and have an excuse plagued by the custard of existence I sure as hell don't know.

[j4gm]

Comprehensive review of various video game fishing mechanics

Sea of Thieves

Takes too long to get fish, and too much brain power. You’re telling me I need to use my keyboard and my mouse to catch these fish? A good fishing system should let you scroll Tumblr or eat peanuts with your free hand. Cooking the fish afterwards is cool though. I like how the only way to tell something is cooked in this game is by looking at it and thinking “hmm, would I eat this in real life?” 5/10

Stardew Valley

Harder fish require more focus, easier fish aren’t so difficult if you just want to chill out, and the risk versus reward of going for a treasure chest is always satisfying.Pretty nice fishing mechanic in my opinion, and you will often need specific fish for fulfilling quests so there is merit to doing it. Can be frustrating when that bastard suddenly shoots to the top of the bar after spending like 20 seconds at the bottom and tricking you into letting your guard down. 7/10

Monster Hunter Rise

There is one useful fish in this game and it’s the sushifish. Everything else is useless, and the spots where you can fish are very limited. There is also for some reason only one place for players to stand, so if multiple people are using the same fishing spot you look like the byproduct of a freak teleportation accident. “THERE’S ALWAYS TIME FOR FISHING.“ 2/10

Minecraft

Fishing in Minecraft is very easy and straightforward. Wait for the thingy to sploosh and then right click. And Minecraft achieves something that a lot of games struggle with, which is making the fishing mechanic actually quite useful. It’s a handy way of getting some enchantments and food and name tags in the early game, before you’ve bothered with all that pesky villager kidnapping, and is still fun in the late game since it forms part of working towards some late game items. Although I think the changes they made to nerf automatic fishing might frustrate inexperienced players who don’t realise how specific the requirements for getting treasure are. 8/10

I think that’s every video game that has a fishing minigame. Let me know if I missed any but I’m pretty sure I got them all.

[sociallyanxiouscryptid-writings]

Their Favourite Hobby part 3

This may or may not be very cruel, you decide once you finish reading. If it helps I have part 4 already in the works. Sorry but also not. 

Part 1

Part 2

~

By the time Villain made it out of that tunnel and back to the main building Hero and Superhero were already gone. Urgency surged through Villain’s veins, they had their phone out in seconds, dialling a number.

Two rings.

“I need a track on Hero and Superhero immediately.”

No reply on the other side but the sound of a keyboard and mouse was enough. Villain couldn’t stand waiting, they went to the car, connected the phone and took off at a dangerous speed.

“I can’t find them sir,” a voice said.

“What do you mean you can’t find them, they just left,” Villain yelled.

“They aren’t appearing anywhere. No CCTV, phone signal, mind sweep, nothing. They must have some sort of guard.”

“That is impossible. They can’t have just disappeared I was with them both ten minutes ago.”

“I am sorry sir.”

Villain growled, knuckles white against the steering wheel.

“I want a team sent out to Superhero’s house and the compound.”

“But sir that goes against-”

“I don’t care,” they yelled, “I will deal with Supervillain, send them all now.”

“You’ll deal with me hey?”

Villain just about crashed the car as Supervillain appeared in the passenger seat. They slammed on the breaks, and for a moment the car slid out of their control. Everything did. They couldn’t help Hero, couldn’t protect them from Superhero and now they can’t stop their car going into a ditch.

Well, the side of the road at least.  

Supervillain watched Villain casually, just another day in the job while Villain struggled to catch their breath, pressing their head against the steering wheel.

“Thank you, Nigel, but you can cancel that request. I will manage things from here,” Supervillain said.

“Yes sir.”

Supervillain leant over and hung the phone up before returning to their seat. They shifted themself to better face Villain, leant an elbow up by the head rest.

“So, what’s going on here?”

Villain closed their eyes, where could they even start? Their mind reeled, their mouth was full of words and yet, at the same time, empty of them. They didn’t know, not fully. All they had were snippets and ideas and feelings, and all of that wouldn’t be enough. Villain was supposed to be the one with the hard facts, the one who gets information. How could they admit they had willingly and knowingly omitted to do so with one of Superhero’s top enforcers?

In the Silence Supervillain kept talking.

“I was curious as to who would be going and activating such an old safehouse, I hadn’t even thought of the old mansion in years. I can honestly say thought I didn’t expect it to be you, and not with Hero either. That was a decent surprise.”

Villain opened their eyes and stared.

“How-”

Villain stopped themself, the cameras, of course. They sighed, resumed their original position.

“Quite the predicament you have got yourself in here. Fraternising with the enemy, getting yourself caught up with Superhero, you’ve been busy behind my back.”

“I’m not fraternising with the enemy,” Villain snapped.

“You’re right, fraternising would actually be productive, instead you’re using my resources for quirky little kidnappings that really aren’t that subtle.”

Villain scoffed, “don’t pretend you care about that, sleeping with Hero’s is basically a side hobby of yours.”

Supervillain’s brows knitted, “I haven’t slept with that many have I?”

“Enough that I knew you wouldn’t care about this,” Villain said.

“Fair,” Supervillain nodded. “My question then, is, well, I have many, but my main question is how did Superhero find you?”

Villain frowned, that was a good question.

“That place is before Superhero’s time, and I know for certain they didn’t know about it before now. So, how did they find it? And so quickly too? You and Hero were only there a couple hours at most.”

Villain stared down at their feet, their grip was a little more relaxed, mind a little more clear as Supervillain’s words shooed away the fog.

“They can’t be free…” Villain whispered.

“Pardon?”

Villain sat up.

“Superhero has a tracker on Hero.”

Supervillains brows rose, but their eyes said they were already at that step.

“Huh, that’s weird, I thought Hero was meant to be Superhero’s most trusted enforcer?”

Villain eyed Supervillain.

“What do you know?”

“Enough that you should report to your boss before deciding to go on a suicide mission against one of the most powerful people in existence.”

Villain ignore them.

“What do you know?

Supervillain sighed, “I know that things aren’t as La-de-da over there as we have been led to believe, and that Superhero goes to great measures to keep something a secret. I don’t really know what, but I know it’s bad, and it involves Hero, all the heroes in fact.”

“All of them?” Villain frowned.

Hero feels trapped, they are scared, of Superhero clearly. But if that’s the case for everyone… what does that mean? That level of fear, it has to be some degree of abuse for sure, but then why stay? And if all of them are experiencing it why not speak up about it? They are all powerful people, together they could do it surely.

And then a wild idea entered Villain’s mind, what if none of the heroes are willingly heroes?

But Hero has stood up to Villains of all calibres, the worst of the worst that even Villain couldn’t stand up to. What could Superhero be possibly doing to cause Hero of all people to be so afraid, that would keep them anywhere they didn’t want to be?

“Now that you are a bit calmer,” Supervillain said, “I need you to stay calm, no rushing off into this situation. You aren’t going to find Superhero today.”

A shot of panic went through Villain.

“What do you mean?”

Supervillain held out a hand, “I said remain calm. If Superhero doesn’t want to be found, they won’t be found. They have people whose specific job it is to hide them from all detection.”

“But-”

“I know, I heard, Hero is in trouble, I am willing to help you, but we have to wait. Superhero’s people can only keep complete guard up for a week at the most, after that it begins to falter and if we keep a fine enough net out it will pop up immediately.”

Villain turned in their seat.

“A week? That’s too long. Something is wrong, and I can feel it.”

“Villain, I know. I understand you want to protect Hero, but this is the best we can do. You will get yourself killed if you try anything today and I can’t let that happen.”

Villain shook their head.

“No, I can’t, I won’t.”

“Villain, this is an order.”

“Fuck your orders, I am not leaving Hero there for another second when I know they are in danger.”

Supervillain sighed, “I thought as much.”

In that moment Villain’s door opened and hands reached in, grabbing them. They struggled, but the hands were strong and skilled and once Villain’s arms were out of the way, a needle pierced their neck.

“I’m sorry Villain. We will get them out, I promise.”

The words began drifting away as Villain’s eyes grew heavy. The hands vanished, Villain’s head lolled to the side, seatbelt holding them up as the world faded to black.

~

A week was too long. Far, far too long. Supervillain kept Villain couped up at the compound, restricted to a very small area that remained in Supervillain’s area of awareness. They couldn’t blame Supervillain, they were right, without the appropriate supervision Villain one hundred percent would have cooked up an insane plan and headed out without a second thought. They wanted to very badly.

But they didn’t, and it felt like they were burning from the inside out. It was a unique experience. For the longest time Villain had seen Hero as a game. A fun little game that made them feel good afterwards. But at some point, the game was no longer a game and an excuse to be around Hero, because it wasn’t the game that made them feel good, it was Hero.

And now that Hero was in danger, now that they had seen how afraid Hero was, seen them cry, something else shifted inside of them. The world was a little less black and white, and now Villain saw red too.  

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Supervillain said, watching Villain from across the table.

Villain stared down at their plate of barely touched food.

“You never really get close to people,” they continued, “does anyone here other then me even know your real name?”

Villain shifted food around with their fork.

“I mean it’s perfectly fine if you are the type of person who just likes being alone, but you don’t really strike me as that type of person.

Villain shrugged.

“People just get in the way.”

Supervillain scoffed.

“I don’t believe you actually think that, if that’s the case you wouldn’t have let Hero get close, unless you are going to try and tell me romantic love is the ‘one true love that breaks through anything’,” Supervillain mocked.

Villain glanced up at them, back down at their food. Supervillain’s smile faded.

“Ok, now I am getting the sense this is a trauma thing and you don’t need to talk about it.”

Villain shrugged.

“Have you talked to anyone about it?” Supervillain asked.

An awkward glance.

“Hero,” Villain said.

“Ideally I meant a psychologist, but that’s something I guess.”

Villain shrugged again, “Hero was there with me when it happened, they understand which helps.”

Supervillain’s eyes widened. “It was recent? It wasn’t… oh… Other Villain?”

Villain nodded.

“I’m not a person who has many friends, just had one really good one.”

And Villain let them down, let them be killed painfully and slowly. It was one of the first times Hero went against what Villain thought was their nature, went out of their way to help Villain, tried to save Other Villain. Villain remembers them covered in blood, stitching up their friend, taking them to a safe house. But neither of them knew about the poison, and by the time they did it was too late. Other Villain died in Villain’s arms.

At least they got to say goodbye.

Villain put down their fork.

“I’m going for a walk,” they said, standing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring anything up,” Supervillain said.

Another shrug.

“It doesn’t matter. I just hope I don’t lose another person,” Villain couldn’t keep the bitterness out of their voice. It wasn’t Supervillain’s fault, they were doing what had to be done in this situation, but it didn’t hurt Villain any less.

Another sleepless night went by, another day. Villain lay in their bed staring up at the ceiling, hating Supervillain, hating Superhero and eventually the world in general. If the world wasn’t such a shitty place, Villain wouldn’t be a villain, Hero wouldn’t be a hero and maybe they would have never met, but at least this wouldn’t be happening. At least they wouldn’t be suffering.

Villain’s bedroom door flew open, Nigel.

“We found them.”

Villain shot up and rushed out of the room.

“Are they ok?”

“Can’t tell, but we think they are at some sort of safehouse, or at least a building Superhero went to great lengths to keep secret.”

“That seems to be a common theme lately,” Villain said.  

“Supervillain has an extraction team already ready and a second suiting up, Supervillain is waiting for you at the car.”

Villain nodded and the two split off. The moment Nigel was gone Villain took off into a run, navigating the halls of the compound until they were at the garage, Supervillain waiting.

“You need to prepare yourself for what might happen next,” Supervillain said.

“Don’t say that, they’re gonna be fine.”

“I don’t mean that, I mean for the chance of this being an ambush,” Supervillain said. “If it turns that way you are to evacuate with me immediately. I am only letting you come in the first place out of curtesy, but you are far too valuable to get captured. The information you have in your head, what they could do with your abilities, I am not going to risk that kind of compromise for anything, understand?”

Villain nodded, but neither were convinced.

“Let’s go then.”

The extraction team got into a car behind them, and the two cars took off down the road, slowly their pace only once they got off of private property.

The address wasn’t where Villain expected it to be, which perhaps worked in their favour. It was on a more remote side of the city, an old, abandoned building four storey’s tall with a basement below.

“This smells very fishy to me,” Supervillain said.

“We aren’t turning around,” Villain said.

“No, but we need to be careful.”

They parked two blocks away, the extraction team interspersing between the buildings as they approached the target. Villain and Supervillain led, Supervillain grabbing Villain’s arms as they approached a door and they both vanished.

They appeared on the other side, Supervillain on high alert but no guards stood there. Supervillain unlocked the door, let the team flood in.

“High alert everyone, the chances of an ambush are high, recognise your nearest teleporter and be ready to get out, if need be,” Supervillain said as the team walked by.

The extraction team split up, each taking a floor, three of them went down. Villain and Supervillain followed those ones.

“Now Villain, don’t go rushing in. Stay by my side, no matter what happens.”

Villain didn’t answer. This entire time, this entire week they had been fighting their own mind to remain logical, to be the calm strategic person they usually are. They hated running on impulse, being purely reactive but the fight was getting hard. When they see Hero, they don’t know what they will do.

The basement was locked, Supervillain grabbed Villain’s arm again and they vanished, appearing on the other side.

The room smelt like blood. Old and dried and rancid. An intense nausea hit Villain and if they had eaten at all today it would have come straight back up. The room was large and dark, Villain took out their phone and turned on the torch.

“Villain wait here while I unlock the door,” Supervillain said.

Villain took a few steps but forced themself to stop walking. It hurt to, but logic, they had to remember logic. The light didn’t reach a single wall around them, just a few metres along the cement floor.

And then the lights turned on.

A bright and blinding flash that seared their eyes. Villain grimaced, eyes watering, covering them in an attempt to adjust. After a moment they regained blurry vision and the blinked at a black blur hanging across the room. They didn’t need to see to know.

“Hero,” Villain breathed and rushed over.

Their vision returned and they stared at Hero’s hanging form, chains around their wrists keeping their toes just on the ground. They were covered in blood, no wounds to see but the bruises on their face and redness around their wrists.

“Hero,” Villain said, gently nudging them.  

Hero startled, jerking aware as their eyes snapped to Villain, grimacing as the chains swayed, pulling against them, rubbing their wrists.

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s me,” Villain said.

Hero started, breath easing, but they said nothing.

“I am so sorry,” Villain said, “I tried but Supervillains wouldn’t,” they stopped, took a breath. “I am going to get you down.”

Villain moved behind them to where the chains were fastened.

They undid it, easing them down as slowly as possible, Hero standing shakily the moment they could. Villain released it faster then, until everything was completely slack and quickly rushed back to Hero’s side, pulling out some lock picks.

“Why are you here,” Hero rasped.

Villain stopped, frowned.

“What do you mean why am I here? I told you I am not leaving you with them.”

Villain watched anger seep into Hero’s features.

“Has my point not already been proven? You can’t help me, and you are only making things worse by trying.”

But something seemed off, Villain didn’t see it reach their eyes.

“We can protect you, fighting superheroes and heroes is what we do.”

Hero’s hand shot out, chains rattling as their fingers wrapped around Villain’s neck so fast and sudden, they choked. Hero snarled.  

“You need to give up on this childish endeavour. I am not a damsel for you to save, and you are not a hero. You are a worthless villain, and I am done with this game of yours.”

“Hero-”

Villain’s words were cut off as Hero squeezed tighter and tighter.

“I was never interested in you,” Hero said, “how could I? You are nothing and I am a hero, we are opposites.”

Villain’s vision was fading, black dots dancing, their face changing colours.

“I hate you,” Hero said.

Villain’s neck snapped and the world vanished.  

~

Let me know if the tags work cos I still can’t tell

@hollowgast1

@leafamaranth

@pigeonwhumps

@laffy-taffy-creations

@paintedpigeon1

@empathyraven

@enigmawritesstuff

@psychiclibrariesquotestoad

@thedeepvoidinmyheart

@painless-and-colourful

[chansbabygirl02]

BESTFRIENDS

Bestfriend! jeno x fem reader

✩.･*:｡≻─────── ⋆♡⋆ ─────────.•*:｡✩

I haven't been to jeno's house for a while since we both have been so busy with exams, and now that's we're finally done with them (i'm nearly done with my life as well) we decided to hang out at his place and he'd teach me some gaming/valorant hacks and skills cuz i obviously suck at video games.

And being the literal procrastinator i am, we decided, and only after a long time of me begging him, to just watch random vids on youtube and listen to some of his self-produced songs while catching up with life and stuff.

We were listening to a song and just using our phones in silence when he asked me if i wanted to eat mac and cheese, and me beeing the mnc enthusiast, i couldn't say no, i offered to make it or help him with the making it but he just told me to continue watching videos or do whatever while he makes it, and then walks out of his bedroom.

I was just gonna keep listening to music when he suddenly came back and stood by the door "hey, uhm, don't go through my stuff and other folders on the computer" i just nodded my head and hummed.

But now that i think about it, that's weird (that's suspicious) he never told me that before, -well ofc, I've never really used his computer before-

And i got curious, and when i do, nothing can stop me from being curious lol

I closed the music folder and the first thing that caught my attention was a folder named "mine♡" with a butterfly icon (wow that was really sudden and not scripted lol) i kept looking at it and yelled so he can hear me "Yo jen, you got yourself a new girl and didn't bother to tell me?"

waiting for his response i opened the folder, as i said i was curious, and as it opened i regretted, both opening and yelling out at him. It was full of pictures of us together, pictures from our hangouts and random pics (nothing creepy lol). And if that moment can't get more perfect, he walked back in the room with two plates and forks.

"yo i heard u call or something, is everyth-"

As soon as i heard his voice i closed the folder but it was too late, he saw it and i was too scared and surprised to turn around and see his reaction.

"what were you watching just now?" wow nice acting dude "nah, it was nothing"

From my peripheral view, i saw him set the plates on his bedside table and walk towards me. He came from behind me and held the mouse with one hand and put the other on the keyboard (as if he was back hugging me), he clicked some buttons and the folder was back on display. I thought he's even get mad at me for opening it or get too embarrassed to re-open it right in front of me, again. But he chuckled and i was left surprised. His head was nearly on my right shoulder so i just turned mine a bit to give him a confused look, and he just chuckled againt and said "surprised, aren't we?" and turned my chair around to make it that he's got me between his body and his gaming table. I got flustered and i didn't even know how to react. Well obviously, jeno lee, the hot engineering student had me locked between him and some desk, but most important, jeno lee, MY OWN BESTFRIEND AND BUDDY. I guess that knocked some sense into me as i tried to laught it off and push him away, but that made him bring his face closer to mine, and made me pull mine away as i nearly fell back, forgetting how stretchy (؟?) the back of a gaming chair is. I closed my eyes thinking i was gonne fall back, but i didn't, and only realized it when i opened my eyes and found jeno's face only a couple centimeters away from mine.

"Jeno, stop playing games and step away buddy" he laughed, LAUGH? Dude i'm having an internal crisis right now because of you, and you're just laughing??

"games? y/n, i'm literally playing no game right now, bestie"

"exactly Jen, bestie, we're bestfriends stop whatever you're thinking of doing please"

"yeaah, you're my best friend i know that, you're the best friend i've had a crush on for years and she was so oblivious to realize it"

"what? Jeno stop saying nonse-"

I couldn't finish what i was gonna say as i felt a pair of lips on mine. It was so sudden that i couldn't react instantly, but when i realized what was happening and lifted my hands to push him away, he caught them mid air and pinned them to the armrests of the chair, so i just kissed him back and move my lips against his before he could pull away (now that it happened, i'm not complaining i got to kiss my hot bestfriend)

As the kiss was getting more heated, he pulled away to catch our breaths. I honestly have to admit that he's a good kisser, no cap.

I looked up to find him already looking at me, i'm sure the look on my face was unreadable cuz as he keept looking at me, his eyebrows creased and a confused look placed itself on his face. As he was about to say something, probably explaining himself, i pulled him back by the collar of his hoodie to take his glasses off and kiss him again. And that move surprised the both of us, i guess i've been so touch starved.

As seconds passed, things were getting more heated as i placed my hand in his hair and played with it, we pulled back for a second to catch our breaths and dived right back into eachother's lips, he bit my bottom lip asking for permission to his tongue and i guaranteed it

"jeno my dude i got a new video game for us to t-, uh never mind i'll call u next time, have fun guys"

Jaemin came in and out of the room so fast that we couldn't even react to it properly, we just pulled away and started laughing

"Jeno go get your friend before he starts freaking out in the middle of the street"

Jeno laughs again and heads out to get his friend back, but before leaving he gives me a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth and says "i'll be back".

He then gets jaemin back and we spent the rest of the evening playing video games, well i was just trying, anx watching few movies, not forgetting the occasional weird glances we'd get from jaemin.

✩.･*:｡≻──────── ⋆♡⋆ ────────.•*:｡✩

Part2

[dragonmuse]

i dont remember if theres been overlap of the two characters mentioned before, so in any of the aus where faith lives, what does her and read's relationship look like?

(this is kind of sadder than I mean to make it, but such is Faith, sorry! This is from the OG Faith lives AU: have a little faith)

It was Faith that found her, for one thing. Read had been circling the shelter where Faith volunteered, considering her options when the blood loss caught up with her. It was Faith that got into an ambulance with her and held her hand in the waiting room, convincing her not to leave. 

“You brought her home?” Izzy frowned down at his keyboard. “You’re okay?” 

“She’s not a danger to me,” Faith chided him. “And the shelter is full. Anyway, she needs a place to just catch her breath, I think she’s been running a long time.” 

“What was the full name?” 

“Israel.” 

“Faith. Just pays to know.” 

“Fine, let me see if I can get a look at her ID.” 

Izzy researched and read and came home with two bags of groceries. Read looked up as he walked in, accessing and tense. 

“Meatloaf or chicken parm?” he asked her. 

“This is my husband,” Faith sighed, closing her book. “Israel, this is Read.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” he gave Read a look. “It’s Izzy. Meatloaf or chicken parm?” 

“Um, meatloaf, please?” she ventured. “I don’t want to be any trouble.” 

“Then you can wash potatoes.” 

She stayed in their guest room for months. Faith took her out shopping and to get her haircut. They talk about a lot of things, late at night over tea and cookies. Read and Izzy get along well. They work out together and he tended to buy her things that he thought she needed and leave them on the guest bed like a cat with a dead mouse which she liked. 

But it was Faith that she was dedicated to. It was Faith that she would call regularly even after she moved out. and Faith that met Anne first.   

Mostly because that first night, Faith told her, 

“There has to be a first day eventually.” 

“First day for what?” Read asked, raw and tired and scared that she was trusting this weird couple in their big house. Not sure if she would stay another hour, let alone the long months that would follow. 

“A first day where you breathe a little easier. A first day where you wake up and your first thought isn’t ‘how do I make it to the next hour’. There’s a first day when you know you’re going to be okay. It’s coming, I know it feels far, but it’ll be here sooner than you expect.” 

“How do you know that?” Read had demanded, then winced. Faith was so much smaller than her and everything about her screamed ‘delicate, handle with care’.  But the woman didn’t flinch. She had looked Read right in the eye and said with the utmost confidence, 

“Because it happened to me. And I will make sure that it happens for you.” 

And Faith did that with Israel at her side. There was Lydia too, who seemed amused by Read’s existence and scooped her up occasionally to meet her friends, who were all gray-haired, and hysterically funny. Read wanted to be them, some day. Could see the future spilling out ahead of her. 

Lucius got her the job at the Revenge, but it was Faith who drove her there for the first few weeks until Izzy gave her the keys to the bike. It was Faith that helped her open up a bank account and taught her how to invest. 

“Why?” Read asked, years and years later. She was helping Faith set out a spread of food, a small party gathering for Lydia’s birthday. Read couldn’t say why she asked just then. She couldn't have known that this was the last party then.  “Why did you help me?” 

“Why do any of us?” Faith smiled at her. “Because I wanted to reach back and help myself. Instead, I got you and that was better.” 

Faith wasn’t there when Read finally got her social work masters, but Read felt her there anyway in her bones.

[debong29]

“REMEMBER”

BY DAVE AERON D. PILOTIN

A transitive verb that can be used in a variety of contexts. An eight-letter word, a simple word with a profound meaning, has changed the way I think. Many of those things are about the two years I couldn't leave the house to try new things because of the lockdown. I am not yet ready to forget all of the memories, whether positive or negative, that have occurred over the last two years and still remember every significant event that has happened during that time. As a result, I'll be here, taking my time as I go over everything I can remember.

Remember is to keep a piece of information in your memory, a verb. For the first few months, I was in denial; I was scared, alarmed, and upset. I was alarmed because I had no idea how serious COVID-19 was, until the lockdown took place. I was scared because I was concerned about how long the pandemic would last and whether we would survive it or not. Finally, I was upset that the lockdown would prevent me from doing what I enjoy. Basketball is my all-time favorite sport. Basketball is like a safety blanket to me. I treat it as my best friend, whom will never abandon me or judge me. When I'm playing basketball, I feel like I don't have to care about anyone else but just shoot the balls in the ring, as if every ounce of stress coursing through my veins is instantly released.

But I lost hope as a result of the pandemic's lockdowns and restrictions. I assumed that having that feeling while playing basketball would not occur for a long time, and that most people, especially those who are not athletic, would not understand my desire for basketball. Those times when I couldn't walk straight or stand because my legs and body were so tired from playing, or when I was desperate to catch my breath because of all the running and sprinting inside the court, or even when I'd rather play on the court than hang out with my friends. I miss it, I miss being free.

Remembering all of my Basketball memories makes me feel so many different emotions; it's a rollercoaster ride. It makes me happy to remember those days, but it also makes me frustrated. I was at my peak. I worked twice as hard to be a good basketball player, and I was doing well and playing better than everyone else until the pandemic struck. Why did the world have to be so cruel? I was back... to zero once again.

I did a lot of things to keep myself busy because there is nothing I can do to escape the chaos that is happening in the world, and I believe that the least I can do is not be a liability, especially to my parents. I try my hardest to help my parents at home, such as doing every chore they assign me, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't swallowed deep in my mobile phone. I downloaded almost all of the popular online games, such as Mobile Legends and Call of Duty Mobile. I even became addicted to those games because they were the only way I could entertain myself since I couldn't go out and hang out with my friends, which made me remember something, how me and my friends used to spent most of our allowance playing in a computer shop with a keyboard and mouse that weren't really for gaming, headphones that smelled like sweat mixed with rotten eggs, and a laggy monitor, it was indeed the good days before the pandemic.

Looking back on the two years of quarantine due to the pandemic, I realized how much I had grown and how much I had come to enjoy things that I used to find ridiculous. It was loving your own company; I never imagined that having your own business would change everything. It was like a drug; using it can have life-changing effects and is highly addictive. Learning to enjoy your own company can help you recharge your mental and social energy after a long day; it gave me more confidence than ever and made me stop listening to other people's inappropriate comments about myself because I know myself better than anyone else.

When I looked at my girlfriend, I was reminded of something. It's as if I'm in a romantic cringe movie where the guy spends most of his time annoying his crush and his crush is always getting mad at him, which is funny because that's exactly how we are. I used to look forward to going to school because I knew I'd see her, even though she's so annoyed by me that just hearing my name and voice makes her blood boil. Moving on, despite the fact that so many negative things happened in my life during the lockdown, it gave me the opportunity to be closer to her. We began playing online games together and, over time, we became good friends. She was there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on, a rant buddy, and someone I could go to for help, especially with school activities. Although I hadn't had much experience with girls, I realized that they are like a broken stoplight, where the red light is on but also the orange and green lights are on. My girlfriend is an enigma; the way she thinks and moves has always been a puzzle to me; it's always unexpected, but I don't mind because I love puzzles and her. I know she always has good intentions.

Ala-ala. It's one of my favorite Filipino words, though I'm not sure why; perhaps it's because of how you say it? Or perhaps because of its deep meaning, which meant to remember. I used to dislike remembering, especially memories, because I believe there's no point in going back on something that's already happened because you can't change it anyway, but as I was writing my kabataan essay, an idea just popped in my head. Remembering isn't always a bad thing; it's a part of who you are. Maybe every experience is a lesson, but sometimes if you don't want it to be a lesson, then don't, but never forget because, as I said, it is part of who you are, so laugh, cry, be angry at the memories you could remember, even the memories of you making dumb decisions because we are human, we will always remember things, even the shameful and bad ones, it's not a switch that you can just pick the good ones and forget all your bad ones.

[writing-wh0re]

Gamer Peter! Fluff

All writing will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

Gamer!Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 1,218.

Warnings: None really, language, implied smut, slight gamer rage?

A/n: @mathletemadison bestie I have more Peter coming for you, but this was the one I finished first, enjoy ❤️

| | |

I knock on the door to Peter’s apartment, shifting my weight from foot to foot before the door swings open to reveal Aunt May with a wide smile on her face.

“Oh, Y/n, come in.”

I brush past her on my way through the door, before she embraces me in a quick hug.

“Peter is in his room, I think he’s gaming with Ned.” May tuts, shaking her head as I smile at her.

I walk through the apartment, making my way to Peter’s room, hearing his frustrated groans and sighs before an outburst of frustration.

“Ned, they’re above you! To the right!” I watch Peter gesture in the direction of the virtual enemies, before he runs a hand through his hair. The door creaks softly as I push it open, Peter instantly turns to look at me, having sensed my presence, a soft smile dances across his lips.

“You’ve got this Ned, I’ll be back.” Peter doesn’t even turn to look at the screen, keeping his eyes on me as he slips his headphones off.

“Hey.” I whisper, Peter places both his hands on the side of my face as our lips lock together, a longing kiss filled with love and lust.

“Peter I revived you, come on!” Ned’s cries for support boom from the headphones. Peter quickly breaks our kiss, looking at me apologetically as I nod.

“You’ve gotta help him.” Peter quickly kisses my cheek before rushing back to his chair, throwing his headphones on and instantly going back to helping Ned.

I sit on his bed, watching the screen as the duo try and win the match. After five minutes, Peter is fighting the last player, his fingers hitting the correct keys on the keyboard, his other hand moving the mouse like crazy. Peter’s shoulders tense, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent as Ned’s voice can be heard through the headphones, encouraging Peter to win.

“Are you kidding me!” Peter shouts, standing up from his chair, the second place banner coming across the screen. Peter tilts his head back, a deep sigh falling from his lips.

“Yeah a break sounds good Ned.” Peter clicks around on the screen, before putting himself back in the game lobby and walking over to me.

“Hey baby.” I smile up at Peter as he flops down on the bed beside me, running his hand over his face.

“You did really well.” Peter smiles at me, shaking his head softly before a soft scoff escapes his lips.

“I can fight enemies in real life but not ones hiding behind their computer screens.”

“How many games have you won today?”

Peter frowns his brows in thought before a cheeky smile crosses his lips.

“I think seven.”

My mouth falls open, laughter escaping me as I hit my boyfriend's chest softly.

“And how many played?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.

“Uhhh ten.” Peter mumbles causing me to shake my head.

“More than half.”

Peter rolls his eyes at me, before dancing his fingertips across my thigh, my eyes flick to his as I bite my lip.

However, the idea in my head is different to the one he has, his fingers poke into my hips, tickling me as I erupt into a fit of giggles and pleas to stop.

“P-p-peter stop.” I giggle through my sentence, breathing deeply as Peter stops his hands, holding my hips allowing me to catch my breath.

“You’re beautiful.” Blush heats my cheeks up, Peter’s hand softly cupping my face, his thumb brushing against my skin.

“Bet I could win a game.” I wink as Peter raises his eyebrows at me, humming in response.

“Is that so?”

I nod in response as Peter looks over at his monitor before looking back at me.

“What do you want to bet?” Peter’s eyes catch mine. a mischievous glimmer behind his stare. I smirk, licking my lips as I tilt my head to the side, thinking.

“Winner..” I start, trailing my finger down Peter’s torso, “goes down on the other.” My finger gently ghosts his crotch causing his breath to hitch.

“If I ever say no to that.” Peter’s comment causes me to chuckle as Ned’s voice fills the air.

“I’m back, Peter are you there?”

Peter gets off his bed, grabbing the headphones and explaining to Ned that we will each play a game with him and hopefully one of us will win and the other will lose. Ned only laughs at us before explaining that he won’t revive us if we get downed.

“Ladies first.” Peter winks as I take the headphones from his grasp.

“Hey Y/n.”

“Hey Ned, ready to kick some ass?” Ned chuckles at my remark before agreeing.

“Do you know the controls?”

“Yeah, I’ve watched Peter play before.” I look over my shoulder, hoping to see Peter but I’m met with an empty room. I knit my eyebrows together in confusion before turning my attention back to the screen, ready for the game to start.

“You’ve got this.” Peter startles me as he pulls up a second chair smiling at me encouragingly his eyes fixating on the screen.

I follow behind Ned’s character, collecting loot along the way, both of us hearing shots from enemies but running in the other direction.

“I want you to win.” Ned whispers, causing me to chuckle, silently thanking him.

I continue to follow Ned, helping him to shoot enemies landing a shot every now and then.

“It's us and them Y/n, we got this.” Ned says, causing my heart beat to pick up. I stay close to Ned, both of us waiting it out for the last team to show up so we have a better shot.

“That guy is low in health, you take him, I’ll go for the other one.”

I focus on the second guy, landing all of my shots before killing the guy.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Ned I did it!” I yell, I look to my right Peter beaming with happiness, before showering me in kisses.

“You’re a gamer god.”

I roll my eyes at Peter’s remarks as the winning banner pop’s up on screen.

“We won! Holy shit Y/N”

“My heart is beating so fast.”

I click through the different screens before loading up a new game for Peter. I take the headphones off, handing them to him before swapping seats.

“No pressure.” I wink.

Peter starts the same way I did, following Ned and working with him, before he runs into enemies and doesn’t shoot.

“Peter, what-”

“Sorry Ned, guess I lost.” Ned chuckles at his best friend, before protesting that he threw the game.

Peter quickly exits the game, turning off the system and turning towards me with a cheeky grin.

“Bed, now.” I smirk at his demands, before rushing the small distance to the bed. Peter is instantly on top of me, kissing up my neck and along my jaw.

“You did so well, even if Ned helped you.”

My eyes flutter closed as his lips fall to mine.

“I won because you threw the game.”

“Shh, not the time for talking.” Peter chuckles, kissing his way down my body. I watch my boyfriend strip me of my clothing before laying between my thighs, the excitement of what’s to come flowing through my veins.

| | |

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Add yourself!

[my-ceiling-is-scuffed]

Art Fight Writing Challenge 2

Finally got my second piece done! The magnificent @blunky gifted me some kickass Zaida art, and I concocted a fun little introduction to the character by way of one of my favorite scenes she's involved in. Read on ;)

Having a potluck with a bunch of criminals was not on Zaida’s list of preferred ways to spend a Saturday night. Life, it seemed, had other plans.

She shoved a bowl of rice pudding into the flat’s crowded fridge, and slammed the door shut before anything could topple out. Behind her, Legacy dragged an office chair towards the dining room. Zaida had no clue how many people he was expecting to show up, but any more than three people in the cramped space was too many for her taste. And technically four lived here in total.

Rain, the sanest of Olliver’s roommates, was drifting around tidying up. Or, at least, that’s what Zaida first assumed. She watched the woman dump every remote, mouse, keyboard, phone, and handheld radio she could find into the bottom drawer of Ollie’s desk. Rain turned, and noticed Zaida’s confused gaze.

“Oh! You don’t happen to have your phone on you, do you? I can stick in it with everything else. Y’know,” Rain winced apologetically, “for safekeeping?”

“Why-”

“Not to say that anyone coming tonight is untrustworthy, but they certainly have sticky fingers. I usually lock up anything tempting when I’m given a heads up,” Rain explained.

“You’re inviting burglars to a house party?” Zaida knew deep down she shouldn’t be surprised at this point. She also fumbled her phone out of her pocket.

“Look at it this way,” Rain accepted the device, “They’re very, very good at some things we need done pretty frequently. Obviously their contributions have been weighed against the. . . collateral.” Rain dropped Zaida’s phone into the drawer, and snatched a combination lock off the desk. “Besides, it would be rude to not invite them.”

“I’d say larceny’s a fair bit ruder,” Zaida scoffed.

“Maybe so.” Rain gave her a beleaguered smile and snapped the lock closed.

“This whole party is ridiculous.”

“It’s not a party, just a dinner. Imagine how miserable it’d be if we only got together to talk business. Surely your fancy secret academy taught you the value of morale.”

“Yeah, and they also mentioned something about not fraternizing with violent criminals,” Zaida muttered. She leaned against the kitchen counter. Rain just shook her head and tucked a wild strand of blonde hair back behind her pointed ear.

“Y’know, talk like that is why I have to keep convincing Legacy to let you hang around.”

Zaida blinked. It hadn’t occurred to her that her continued presence at the apartment was up for so much debate. Nor that anyone other than Ollie would speak in her defense. Zaida let herself be a little reassured by the ally she evidently had in Rain.

“I- yeah. Sorry.” She cleared her throat. Rain smiled and clapped a hand to her shoulder.

“I know you’re having a tough time. Thanks for coming anyway. Legacy needs some time to adjust to new people, and Ollie will come around too. Tonight’s a great chance to prove you can get along. If you can’t relax and have fun, at least be tactical.”

“Mhm.” Rain couldn’t have been too much older than Zaida, but she spoke with an authority that made Zaida feel childish in comparison.

Legacy strode into the room and began rifling through the silverware drawer.

“Do we think we trust Kestral enough to use the good stuff, or should I just dig out the plastic?” he asked.

“As I recall it,” Rain grinned, “the last time they were here, they called our glassware ‘cute’ and ‘like a little playset, but for adults’ before rambling to Lyric about the market for illegal china for half an hour while they played catch with the dishes instead of washing them.”

“Okay, first, they absolutely were washing the dishes. And Lyric was drying. Second, point taken. Although maybe we should just use plastic anyway to escape a lesson on valuable fork metals.” Legacy squinted contemplatively into the drawer before grabbing a fistful of cutlery and ducking back into the dining room.

Zaida wondered if it was too late to revoke her RSVP.

The doorbell buzzed.

“Speak of the devil, probably,” Rain giggled. She stepped over to the front door, checked the door cam, and shifted the deadbolt.

The door swung open. The kid who tottered into the room was not at all what Zaida had been expecting. They were short and well-dressed, with a smile that set Zaida on edge and a huge casserole dish balanced precariously in the crook of one arm. She figured they weren’t much older than 20. This was someone who should be studying for a career, not following Legacy Byrnes’s example.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Rain took the dish and led the kid into the apartment. “Zaida, this is Kestral Torres. Kestral, Zaida Loch.”

“Hi,” Kestral extended a hand.

“Um, yes. Hello.” Zaida reluctantly engaged the handshake. She was resisting the urge to make for the hand sanitizer in her purse when she realized the right sleeve of Kestral’s blazer seemed largely empty. A twinge of concern pulled in Zaida’s chest. She quickly looked anywhere else.

“So. . . what’s your deal?” Kestral raised an eyebrow. Their gaze was intense and inquisitive. It made Zaida uneasy.

“Er-” she began.

“Sticking her nose in other people’s business,” Ollie remarked bitterly. He emerged from the dining room with Legacy in tow. Zaida scowled.

“I,” she huffed, “am a software developer. And responsible for making sure certain people stay out of trouble. Despite their best efforts.” She shot Olliver a pointed look. He rolled his eyes. She wished, not for the first time, that Ollie hadn’t been quite so quick to figure out backtalk. Or sarcasm. Or annoyance.

“Right.” Kestral clearly only bothered to ponder Zaida and Ollie’s relationship for a few seconds before shooting a grin at Legacy. “And how are things with you?”

“Oh, terrible,” Legacy mused. “But I’d feel bad complaining at you. Until you’re two-handed again, at least.”

Kestral cackled and grabbed a chip from the bowl Rain had begun filling. Zaida hung back while the room fell into playful banter. She wasn’t cut out for dinner parties. It didn’t help that half the people in the room would be happier without her around. Her wallowing was interrupted by the crawl of eyes on her.

Lyric was standing not two inches away, head cocked and eyes trained on her. Zaida nearly jumped out of her skin. She inhaled deeply, trying to settled her nerves. If Kestral’s wild-eyed stare was disconcerting, Lyric’s was a thousand times worse. Zaida gave him a half-hearted smile, hoping silently that he’d move on and leave her alone.

Instead, the doorbell buzzed again.

Lyric returned her smile with a genuine leer. Zaida could never tell if he was messing with her or not, but Lyric had a way of ensuring she always felt like the butt of some cosmically intricate joke. She watched him scurry to get the door, and took to polishing her spectacles nervously.

“Evening, folks!” A loud, deep voice reverberated in the small apartment. Zaida’s blood turned to ice.

The man in the doorway was short and burly, wrapped in a large, dark overcoat, and carrying an enormous duffel bag on his back. He had a grin like a mad man, missing a tooth. His jewelry, assorted rings and a chain around his neck, was wildly mismatched. His hair stood on end. He was clearly exactly the sort of company Legacy Byrnes would keep.

He was also clearly Giles Winsett.

Zaida was barely listening when Rain made an attempt at introductions. It was all she could do to stay on her feet.

“Um, Zaida?” Rain asked. When no answer came, she let her concerned eyes drift back to Giles. “Sorry, she’s not usually like this.”

“Ah, no big deal, lady,” The knowing look Winsett shot Zaida brought the panic in her chest to a boil. “Can’t be easy trying to keep up with us, hey?” His jovial grin returned.

“Is it food time or what?” Legacy slid his arm off Giles's shoulder.

“I could eat,” Kestral declared.

“You lot get settled, I need a sec to get these boots off.” Giles shrugged off his bag. The others filtered into the dining room.

When Zaida moved to join them, a large hand planted itself firmly onto her shoulder.

“Plus, I think perhaps you and I should have a little chat. One on one, y’know?” His voice was quieter, more gravelly. For the first time in a while, Zaida genuinely feared for her life.

True to his word, Giles took a knee to begin fighting with the knots in his bootlaces.

“I swear, I won’t say anything,” Zaida stammered. “P-please.”

“Relax,” Winsett grumbled. “I’m just making sure we’re on the same page.”

“You’re still alive. Even after-”

“Don’t.” His interruption was hoarse. Zaida was convinced she’d uttered her last words. He stood slowly, but sighed and ran a hand over his face when he noticed her obvious terror. “Good fucking grief.” Winsett sighed. The sorrow in his voice surprised Zaida. “You’ve been reading too many tabloids.”

“I- What?”

“Listen,” Winsett pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just. Leave that whole fiasco in the past where it belongs, alright?” His voice broke. Zaida struggled to reconcile her fear with a rush of sympathy. For Giles Winsett. What was even real anymore?

“So, I’m just supposed to pretend-”

“Yes. Please. Pretend, ignore, lie, whatever you want.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Giles kicked his boots off.

“I’m serious. I’ve read your research. It’s genius. You could’ve been-”

“A pawn. In a game of chess no one should be playing in the first place. The shit she was planning was untenable. Had to be done.”

“Who’s ‘she’?”

“End.” Winsett met her eyes with a cold look. “Of. Discussion.”

“So none of them know?” Zaida scrambled out of the way as he brushed past her toward the dining room.

“Some do, some don’t, and I’m not leaving that up to your discretion. What’s done is done. No sense in unpacking a closet full of skeletons at the dinner table.”

“I. . .” Zaida trailed off. She didn’t know what to think. Already, the fact that there was more to Giles Winsett than she expected had made room for her curiosity to creep in. Standing in front of her was the primary source of a life time, the chance to finally talk to someone who could keep up with her without protocols or superstition getting in the way. Zaida could never live with herself if she didn’t at least try to get along. To get answers. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My lips are sealed. I promise.”

“G-good.” Winsett seemed taken aback.

“I’m Zaida Loch, by the way. Big fan of your work. The, uh, earlier work, that is.”

“Right.” Giles turned to leave. She followed.

Maybe Ollie was onto something with these people after all.

[random-imagines-blog]

Blood Games {John Blake x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2484 Summary: Yours and John’s children never come off the school bus.

Deep in your heart, you were always afraid. Afraid of what would happen to John on the job, afraid of some sort of retaliation against your family because he really was such a good cop, afraid of the corruption inside of the department making it’s way into your husband’s heart. John was one of the good ones. That’s why you married him. But there was just so much of it, shown by the way that the villains had been taking over Gotham. It seemed like it was only one thing after another. If you didn’t have so much love for the potential that this city really could be, you would have packed your family up years ago and tried to hit the road, go somewhere safer. But Gotham was home. It was where John’s heart was. It was where your kids seemed happy. 

Any minute now, they would be getting off of the bus, and running into your arms. You were waiting at the stop, looking down the street with a couple of the other mothers, listening to the latest gossip. Something about a stepmother over-stepping their bounds. You were lucky you never had to deal with that. You were one of the few undivorced mothers on the block. You had no complaints about the father of your children. Your marriage was still a happy one.

Five minutes went by. Still no bus. You were starting to feel anxious. Started to pace back and forth. “It’s okay, you know how traffic is,” One of the other mothers said to you, putting their hand on your arm. You weren’t the fondest of being touched but you knew she meant no harm so you put a smile on your face.

“I’m sure that’s the case,” You said, trying to convince yourself. You kept on checking your phone. There was nothing from John. Surely he would tell you if there was some sort of case by the school. It wasn’t so far away that you wouldn’t  have been able to hear if there was some sort of bombing, like there had been at the hospital not too long ago. You texted John, not being able to help it. He texted you back right away.

‘Nothing called to us at the station. Call the school?’

You’d wait another minute. And then you would. The secretary picked up, though she sounded out of breath, like she was on her way out. “Hi, this is Mrs. Blake,” You introduced, though they knew you well. You were very involved in their school life, taking part in all of the fundraisers and the field trip. Your family really was your life.

“Hi y/n, how can I help you?” She asked.

“Sorry to bother you, but has there been any sort of delay with the buses? I’ve been waiting at the usual stop for about ten minutes now and it hasn’t shown up yet. Or is there some construction near the school that I’ve managed to miss?”

“Oh, that’s odd. Let me just see if I can track it down for you. You know what Gotham is like, there’s construction everywhere. I’m sure that there’s a reason for it...”

You heard some tapping of a keyboard on the other line. Some clicking of the mouse. And then a hmmm sound. “No, I can’t see any reason why there would be any delays. Are you sure that it wasn’t early?”

“I’m positive,” You said. You looked around at the other mothers who were turning to you, the policeman’s wife, for information. You were the only one who was thorough enough to make the call. “If they circle back for any reason, would you give me a call please?”

“Of course,” The secretary assured. You hung up and felt all of the eyes upon you. You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant but your heart was beating a thousand times a minute. Sweat was beginning to come down on your palms. You didn’t like this. You did not like not knowing where your children were. You moved a couple of steps away, and you called John. He picked up at the second ring.

“Where are you?” You asked immediately, hoping that he was near the school. But your heart sunk when he told you that he was on patrol in the downtown area. “Nobody knows where the school bus is. John - John, I feel like I’m going to be sick. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“I’ll be there soon,” John said, and ended the call. You stayed. You weren’t going anywhere, just in case there was a chance that the bus would be coming. That’s what you were hoping for. What you were praying for. Any glimpse of yellow and you were standing on your tiptoes, looking down the street. But nothing. The bus didn’t come. The other mothers called their husbands. Called the school. Called the police. And were looking to you as the policeman’s wife on what they should be doing.

You tried to hold strong. You kept your back straight, kept looking down the road. Any second now, any second your babies were going to be back in your arms where they belonged.

John pulled up in the cruiser, the lights flashing but the siren wasn’t on. “No sign of them?” He asked. You shook your head. Oh my god, how you just hoped that he would hop out of that thing and would hold you. Would tell you that everything was going to be alright. You always believed it coming from him. He was the most honest person that you knew. And the fact that he wasn’t saying that, wasn’t doing that, told you that maybe everything wouldn’t be alright.

“Look!” One of the other mothers said, pointing down the street. You turned and to your great relief, you saw a yellow school bus making it’s way down the street. You’ve never felt so happy to see the color yellow in all of your life. Your hand went over your heart, but you still felt that sick feeling. What on Earth had happened? You had some words for the bus driver. And by the looks of things so did John. And the other mothers. John finally got out of the car. But he kept the lights on.

The school bus pulled to the side. The door opened. The driver looked pale. The kids coming off looked sick. Three kids - four - five - sometimes yours liked to come off of the bus last because they were saying a long goodbye to their friends but-

But they weren’t coming off of the bus.

John marched on up those stairs, going straight to the driver. Stared at them, and asked his questions. The other mothers were looking at you, holding their own kids tight. Nobody seemed to move. Two of the younger kids were starting to cry. Your hands were shaking. The mothers were asking their kids what happened but they were too upset to say. They kept on looking at you, bottom lips trembling. You crossed your arms in front of you, waiting for John to come out, waiting to find out what happened to your babies. Was there a medical emergency? No, they would have reached out. You had your cellphone with you. There was no excuse.

John eventually came down the stairs. The door closed behind him. The bus continued on. “We need to go down to the station, now.” He told you, taking hold of your hand. He didn’t look so good himself. He was about the same shade of pale as the bus driver. He then seemed to take notice of, for the first time, the group of women who were looking to you, to him. “It’s okay guys, you can head on home. We have your numbers if there’s anything we need.”

“Okay,” The one closest to you said. They put their hand on your shoulder for a moment, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and then they all went to take their children back home. You knew that they were good people, but you also knew that they were glad they were not in your position right now. You gave them a little wave, and that was the end of you holding yourself together. As soon as you were in the front of the police cruiser, your first time in one of these actually, you let loose, tears flooding your eyes, your body turned entirely to your husband.

“Where are they, John? Where are our babies? What the hell happened?” The questions were coming out before you could stop them. And John, although he was nervous to say anything - he told you what the driver had told him.

Agents of Bane. Coming onto the bus. Calling for your kids by their names. Bane knew their NAMES. And the reason for the hold up was because your children were smart and they didn’t give themselves up. And none of the other children on the bus gave them up either. Nor the bus driver. It took them rustling through the bags to find something with their names on them to find your children. And then they were taken. The bus driver was so shaken, not knowing what to do, that their body went into autopilot, taking the rest of the kids home.

“He’ll be coming by the station after to get a statement,” John said, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh. Normally that would be pretty sexy, you loved when he touched you, but nothing in this moment felt good. Nothing felt like it would be good again.

-

The Batman was dead. But with him went the bomb that would have destroyed Gotham as you knew it. And those that had brought the bomb into the city. Bane. Talia Al-Ghul. The same people who had taken your children. The same people who had trapped most of the city’s police underground - but thankfully, not your husband. You didn’t know what you would have done if he had been missing too. You would have lost everything.

You and John were rushing to one of the precincts in the city. Your children. They had found your children. You were a nervous wreck, biting on your nails until they bled. John was driving a little more recklessly than usual. Swerving around traffic. Sirens blaring on the top of the car despite this not being a city emergency. But it was a family emergency. You couldn’t wait much longer.

John, with his longer legs, went in ahead of you, but you were close by on his heels. Your eyes scanning every face inside of the precinct. The weary and tired and underfed cops were milling around, trying to catch up on their work. Trying to deal with all that had happened inside of the city during the last couple of days. But then you saw him - Jim Gordon, out of the hospital, looking older than you had ever seen him, sitting on a bench with your daughter and your son, their little legs to small to even reach the ground from where they were sitting.

You heard their names being called out. It took you a moment to realize that it had been you, without realizing it. Their heads turned toward you and it was like the world was going in slow motion. Your daughter’s braids were frazzled, but still somehow being held together. You had done them for her days prior, when she wanted to look pretty for school. Two falling down around her shoulders. And your son with those eyes that he had inherited from his father - those dark brown eyes that one could just fall into endlessly. The wide smile. Two missing front teeth. That was a new development. They stood up, crying out, ‘Mom! Dad!’

Tears welled up in your eyes making everything blurry. You fell onto your knees and felt your daughter wrap her arms around your shoulders. You took in the smell of her hair, that natural sweetness that little girls seem to have. The smell that you had inhaled through her pillow each night because you needed something of her close to help you drift off. Your son, too. He was beside you, and then you were enveloped in an even bigger hug by your husband.

“They’re unharmed, we had a doctor check them over,” Gordon was saying, but it was in one ear and out the other. “A bit malnourished and in need of a bath but they’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” You said into the fabric of your daughter’s jacket, your voice coming out muffled. But Gordon seemed to have heard you either way. You felt a pat on your back and then the old Commissioner limped away, given you and your family some somewhat private time. There were plenty of looks from other officers, but most of them were friendly. They were smiling. This is why they had gotten onto the police force. For moments like this when everything turned out okay.

John’s lips brushed past your forehead, and then on that of your daughter, and then your son. “Thank God. Thank God,” He muttered over and over again. Looking at you. Looking at your kids. Checking them over despite Gordon’s words. He had to  be certain that they were okay. “I’m never letting you go again. Any of you.”

“How am I going to take a bath then, daddy?” Your son asked, looking up at him with a scrunched expression. “I’m not taking one with you or her-” He pointed at his older sister. You almost rolled your eyes. Leave it to them to start bickering after being rescued. Siblings. They never change.

“Your daddy will give you a bath when we get home, and I’ll give your sister one,” You said, rubbing his back up and down. “And then we’ll have a big dinner. Whatever you want baby.”

“McDonalds?” Your daughter ventured hopefully.

“Pizza?” Your son asked.

You and John looked at each other and for the first time in days, started to laugh. “McDonalds and pizza,” He confirmed with a nod, getting back onto his feet, lifting your daughter up  in his arms the way that he used to when she had just been a little girl.

True to his word, John didn’t let any of you go for a couple of days, until it was time for school. This time, he took them each morning. He picked them up each afternoon. No more school buses. No more fear of where they could be. No more waiting by the street for the yellow bus to come. It was rough going forward, trying not to helicopter parent but when your father is a cop, you get sort of used to that thing. Your kids were strong. Resilient. They bounced back despite their fear.

Just like their father.

[angelicyoongie]

desolate (9)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 5.2k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @ditttiii @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi @narcissism-iskey @sp3ak-yours3lf @cesthoney @imluckybitches @hd-junglebook @sugarrimajins @multifandomgirl29 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @bangtansleftnut @theresa-nam-nam-me @angeltothecore @ghostkat23 @deathkat657 @httpmedxsa @veronawrites @bubbletae7 @serious-addiction @chogiyeol-utopia @nomimits7​ @lorielulu7​ @1am9root6​ @sana-b​ @diamonddia-mond​ @jiminiessipabo​ @myhearttteu​ @rainbowmagicpixecorn​ @lidda​ @rosiethefairy​ @lovinggalaxies​ @midnight1199​ @trinityautumn​ @linniewritesficz​ @fearhoshi​ @juniesoftbot​ @kingalls00​ @toribug2020​ @daydreambrliever​ @sleepyje0n​ @yoonie-bby​ @honestlyfuriousharmony​ @itsoktheresbts​ @suzziequeuie​  @illnevertrustmyselfagain​ @annoyingpessimist​ @lovelikeyouwant​  @cigarettes-after-tears​ @kookie-vuitton​ @thefangirlsoul​ @lmna990​ @luvshorses08​ @nanananisstuff​ @marvelstuck​ @kissmeimwitchy​ @hxsxxk-180294​ @ratking101​  @shameless-army​ @yuukihime2097​ @heimdoodle​ @kissing-fear​ @toripeix​ @horanghae18​ @redperson58​ @awsome-small-k​ @salomea27​ @johnnystolemywig​ @adoorinyourheart @alltimeyoongi @miss–insanity @originalpersonawobblerduck @crazyxforxmyself @brittaney341 

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

The man gulps loudly, his eyes flying over your face in the darkness. Your body is frozen stiff with terror, your brain short-circuiting as he takes another step forward.

“C-can I help you with anything?” The man stutters, his squeaky voice somehow matching his lanky appearance. He seems surprisingly nervous to find you here, but it’s not like that does much to soothe your fears. You grasp his desk behind your back, rooting yourself in the feeling of the cold wood beneath your palms.

“My computer died, I don’t know how to fix it,” You say, praying he doesn’t hear the slight tremor in your voice.

“But it can wait until tomorrow, sorry for bugging you!” You push off the desk with a strained smile, quickly maneuvering around him as you start walking towards the door with hurried steps.

“N-no wait, I can help you!” The loud footsteps rushing up behind you makes your shoulders shoot up to your ears with tension, your flight or fight response begging you to get out of there as fast as possible. But the man reaches your side before you can make a choice, his breath slightly labored from the sprint he just did across the room.

“Sure,” You wince as he walks past you, his long legs already carrying him up the stairs. You make sure to keep some space between you as you follow him. It feels a little ridiculous considering he hasn’t actually done anything bad, but you learned long ago that it’s important to trust your gut, and you still don’t have an explanation as to why he has your things.

The man abruptly stops as he reaches the first cluster of desks on your floor, letting you pass him by to lead him over to your computer. “It just turned off and won’t come back on,” You give yourself an internal round of applause for how steady your voice sounds, despite your heart feeling like it’s about to jump out of your chest.

He gives you a curt nod, eyes glued to your desk as he slides down into your chair. You step back to give him room, following his movements carefully as he opens up a panel to look inside the consol. You let your eyes wander slightly, just enough to realize how odd this guy really is.

His clothes don’t match up with the uniform the IT department normally wears, and his hair seems to be too long. You’re honestly surprised he has managed to keep it at that length; your boss would surely throw a fit if he ever noticed. Even if you pushed all of those things aside, he still has this air of something being a little off surrounding him, and it’s enough to keep you feeling alert.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts as your screen suddenly lights up, the man shifting in your chair to stand. As he rises, the soft blue hue illuminating your desk catches on a weird pattern on his neck. You inch forward to get a better look, but his hair falls back down to cover it before you can see it properly. It’s probably just a tattoo of some kind, but you feel like the pattern looks oddly familiar for some reason.

“Y-you should try logging in and see if it works,” Another wave of unease washes over you as he turns his attention back to you. You’re not even sure if you have seen him blink yet. Pushing it into the back of your mind, you take a seat in front of him, all too aware of his presence just behind your back.

You quickly type in your information, fingers flying over the keyboard with a speed you didn’t even know you possessed. It feels like hours have passed before the screen finally changes to your homepage, but your relief is short-lived as the program you had been working in tries booting up and failing, again and again.

“I-it’s overworked. Y-you just need to close it down and fill in new information one by one,” You stiffen as the man reaches over your shoulder for the mouse, his other hand tapping away on the keyboard as he forcibly quits the program. You hold your breath as you feel his chest against your shoulders, his face way too close to yours for comfort.

Your lungs are burning for air when he finally pulls back, your hands wrapped together tightly in your lap.

“I-it should be okay now,” He stammers out, eyes gliding over your form one last time before he scurries out of your sight.

You collapse against the back of your chair, running your fingers through your hair as you take some deep breaths. You can still feel the ghost of his body against your own, the lingering coldness he seemed to be radiating. Sure - it’s getting closer and closer to winter, but how can someone be so cold? It doesn’t seem humanly possible.

You quickly snatch up your belongings, only tearing your eyes away from the entrance of the floor to make sure you’ve got everything. The more you learn about him, the more suspicious he becomes. Obviously him taking some stationary, acting weird and being cold isn’t enough to tell your boss about, but you decide you’re definitely going to be keeping an eye on him. Something just doesn’t sit right with you.

You practically run out of the office, the brisk air doing little to calm your mind as you hurry home.

.

You take a step back in surprise as you’re hit with a wall of warmth as soon as you open the door to your apartment. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Yoongi has been cranking up the heating while you’re at work. You sigh as you remove your shoes and coat, the electricity bill just adding to your long list of problems. While you would love to not have to worry about things like this and just let Yoongi do whatever he wants – the reality is that you can’t. Not unless you want the both of you to end up on the street.

“Yoongi?” You call out as you put away your purse. You’ve grown so used to Yoongi practically waiting for you at your door, or at least coming out to greet you, that not seeing or hearing him at all is weird.

“M’here,” A muffled voice comes from your bedroom, the sound barely making it past the tiny crack between the door and the frame. As you push it open, you’re greeted with the sight of Yoongi swaddled up in all the blankets you own, his furry cat ears barely peeking out on top of them.

“Comfortable?” You grin teasingly as you make your way over to your closet, pulling out some cozy clothes to change into. You feel like a magician as you try to pull out a sweater without knocking over everything on top of it. You ended up moving some clothes around to free up some space for Yoongi, but your already tiny closet doesn’t seem to be too happy about the change considering it threatens to spew out all of your clothes whenever you try to grab something.

“It’s cold,” Yoongi grumbles in response, his narrowed eyes barely visible underneath the mountain of blankets he’s surrounded himself with.

“It hasn’t grown that cold just overnight Yoongi,” You gesture over to his form, but Yoongi just huffs in response. You suppose it’s probably just a hybrid thing. Maybe he’s just more susceptible to the cold than you are.

“I don’t mind you taking all the blankets, but you can’t turn the heating up so high. It’s ..” You grimace, voice trailing off as you see Yoongi’s ears start to flatten. He probably can’t help it if he’s cold, and asking him to turn the heat down might just be cruel if his internal temperature is suddenly so wonky. Maybe you can just pick up some extra work somewhere else during the winter months.

“It’s too expensive. I forgot, I’m sorry,” Yoongi finally pokes his head fully out of the covers, the corner of his lips tugging downwards as he looks at you apologetically.

“It’s okay. A little extra heat is fine, just not on the highest setting,” You’re about to exit the room when you see the little shiver than seems to run through Yoongi’s body, the cat hybrid closing his eyes momentarily as it passes.

“Are you sick?! Is that why you’re feeling cold?” You hurry over to the bed, carefully placing your hand on Yoongi’s forehead to feel for his temperature. You almost hiss in surprise as you touch his skin, he’s absolutely freezing in comparison to you.

You feel Yoongi’s body stiffen under your touch, his eyes snapping up to yours as you flip your hand around. You were hoping you might just have cold hands from being outside but no, his temperature is definitely way lower than it should be.

“Why do you smell like that?” Yoongi’s voice is tense as he leans forward, his nostrils flaring slightly as he inhales your scent.

“Like what?” You turn your head to sniff your sweater, already moving back from Yoongi in case you happen to smell bad. But a cold hand shoots out of the blankets to grab yours before you can step away fully, Yoongi pulling you back. You’re practically kneeling on the bed in front of the cat hybrid, one hand almost touching his chest from how close he’s pulled you in.

“You smell like someone else,” He hisses. And oh, the realization hits you just a little too late. The IT guy must have left his scent on you when he touched you earlier. You watch as Yoongi shakes off his blankets, his tail bristling up as soon as it’s free.

“Oh,” You say dumbly as Yoongi’s expression darkens. You can’t figure out why he seems so upset – you can’t imagine that this is the first time you’ve ever come home smelling like another person. You hug Jihyo all the time after all.

“Oh?” He echoes, lips pressed into a firm line. “Are you not going to tell me who it was, kitten?”

Your mind goes blank at the nickname as Yoongi grabs a hold of your other hand, the movement so fast it makes you stumble forward on the bed. You swallow thickly as you find your hands pressed up against Yoongi’s chest, his pale fingers wrapped around your wrists. Yoongi watches you through hooded lids, his black cat ears twitching as he hears your shaky exhale.

“I-it’s not important. He’s not important,” You mutter, heat creeping up your neck as Yoongi’s tail brushes against your legs. You don’t want to mention the guy from work. You don’t have any hard evidence to show except for him being a little creepy, and you don’t want to worry Yoongi with it in case it pans out to be nothing more.  

“So it was a he,” A displeasured sound rumbles from Yoongi’s chest, the vibrations so strong you can feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Why does it matter?” You ask. Yoongi scoffs as he slowly inches closer, the look in his eyes bordering on predatory.

“Of course it matters,” Yoongi says, his face is so close you can count every eyelash. He pauses, eyes turning dark as they flicker down to your lips. ��You should only smell like me, you’re my owner after all.”

“Owner?!” You choke, eyes widening in surprise at Yoongi’s nonchalant attitude. You had never thought of yourself as Yoongi’s owner – the idea of owning something that was even remotely human making you feel sick.

Yoongi only hums in response, fingers leaving your wrist to cup your cheek instead. “I belong to you, you belong to me. Isn’t that what you promised when you signed those papers at the shelter?”

Yoongi runs his thumb across your cheek, the touch so soft and delicate you wouldn’t even had known it was there, if it wasn’t for the trail of fire his fingertips leave behind on your skin.

“I thought you were a cat!” You sputter.

“And?” Yoongi’s hand slips from your face, a fingertip ghosting over the corner of your mouth before he drops it. His adverts his eyes with a frown, ears pinned back against his head as he leans back. Your face is burning, but at least the little distance he’s given you is enough to clear your mind from repeating Yoongi’s name over and over.

“I don’t want to own you, Yoongi. You’re a human being. It doesn’t work like that.” Yoongi’s grip loosens around your wrist, just enough to allow to you pull your hands back down into your lap.

“Fine, if you say so,” He hisses, hands scrambling to wrap the blankets back around himself once more. You slowly rise to your feet, your chest churning with uncertainty as you pick up the clothes you dropped on the floor earlier. You can feel Yoongi’s gaze burning into the side of your face through the small opening between the blankets.

“At least go wash off that stench.” He growls.

You don’t waste any time as you hurry out of the room, quickly closing the bathroom door behind you as you get inside. You rest your forehead against the wood, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

This whole situation has made you feel weird. Yoongi has never acted like this before, never been so obviouslyjealous of someone else touching you, and well, judging by the blush in your cheeks and the hard pounding of your heart, you kind of … like it. And you don’t know what you’re supposed to do with that realization.

You groan in despair as you quickly strip off your clothes, hopping into the shower to wash off whatever scent might be left lingering on your skin. You find yourself outside of your bedroom door again in no time, hand resting on the doorknob uncertainly. It’s not like you can avoid Yoongi or the feelings that suddenly jumped you out of nowhere forever, you live together in a pretty tiny apartment after all. You open the door just enough to catch a glimpse of the pile of blankets, your voice soft as you call out to him.

“Have you eaten any dinner yet?” You get a grunt in response, and you take that as a firm ‘no’.  You’re pretty sure Yoongi must be coming down with something based on how freezing he feels to the touch and with how weird he’s acting, so you figure at least getting him to eat is important.

For the first time since Yoongi started warming up to you, you eat your dinners separately.

The cat hybrid refused your offer to come out into the living room, instead telling you to leave the bowl of soup just inside the door to your bedroom. You obliged of course, not wanting to pressure him if he doesn’t feel well, but you’ve grown so used to Yoongi’s company that it feels strangely empty eating alone again.

You swirl your spoon around absentmindedly, watching as the pieces of vegetables float around in your bowl. You know Yoongi is only at the other side of the door, but it feels too far – too lonely. You chew on your lip, annoyed with how clingy you’re acting. If you’re already feeling like this after just living together for a month, you don’t want to know how attached you’re going to become later. You don’t even know how long Yoongi will stay; he has nothing tying him down here. You’re just something in-between, just a place for him to crash at until it’s safe for him to leave. You push your bowl away with a sigh, your appetite spoiled.

A quick look at your phone confirms that it’s time to go to sleep unless you want to be a walking zombie tomorrow. And if you happen spend a little extra time in the bathroom getting ready for bed, in hopes that Yoongi will have transformed and gone to sleep by the time you’re done, then well that’s nobody’s business besides your own. But you should have known you wouldn’t be that lucky.

Your heart flips when you open the door, a very human looking Yoongi staring right back at you. He’s sprawled across your bed, using every inch for what it’s worth. You notice that the pile of blankets has been pushed down to the floor by his side.

“I’m staying here tonight,” He announces, his tail swishing languidly back and forth over your comforter as he watches you move around the room. The bowl you gave him earlier is empty, so thankfully he still has an appetite.

“Don’t you do that every night?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow. Yoongi hums, his pupils growing larger the more light you turn off. His eyes roam over your face unabashedly, the glint in his eyes matching the lazy smirk that grows on his lips.

“Sure .. but not like this.”

“Like what?” You step up next to the bed, pausing in confusion as Yoongi suddenly gets under the duvet. He usually always sleeps on top of it.

“I’m staying here the way I am now – ” Yoongi tilts his head, the challenge clear in his eyes as he makes himself comfortable in your bed, “Human.”

“The couch is breaking my back, so I refuse to sleep there. And it’s too cold for you, so don’t even think about it,” He looks smug, clearly having read your thoughts as they formed in your head.

“What about the rule?” You huff.

“That rule was technically broken the first time I woke up human in your bed,” Yoongi rolls his eyes as he impatiently pats the space next to him.

“Fine, just .. stay on your side,” You say as you pull back the cover, flicking off your bedside light as you climb into bed. You’ve barely laid down before you feel Yoongi’s tail brush against your calves, your sleepwear doing little to cover your legs.

“What did I just say?” You mumble, twisting your neck to look in Yoongi’s direction. You freeze as you find a pair of golden eyes staring back at you, the sliver of light coming from your window illuminating his eyes in the darkness.

“What? I’m on still on my side,” You can hear the teasing tilt to Yoongi’s voice as his tail swipes over your leg, the soft fur almost ticklish against your bare skin.

“Yoongi ..” Your words die in your throat as a cold hand wraps around yours under the covers. Yoongi easily slots your fingers together, golden eyes unblinking as he looks back at you.

“But I’m cold – No, I’m freezing,” He whines. Yeah, you think, Yoongi is definitely sick. There’s no way your grumpy hybrid roommate would ever sound so needy if he wasn’t.

You feel torn, and the fact that your fingers are itching to reach out and tug him closer just makes it even worse. Yoongi is obviously not in his right mind, and considering how your heart was trying to jump out of your chest earlier you have a sneaking feeling that your feelings for Yoongi aren’t all that platonic anymore. You don’t want to take the risk of making the friendship between you turn sour if he wakes up and regrets it in the morning. You’re not sure you can handle going back to how things were before.

“Please?” Yoongi softly adds, your resolve slowly chipping away for every pleading squeeze Yoongi gives your hand. You don’t need any light to imagine the puppy dog eyes he must be giving you in the darkness. You’re sure he could give Sana a run for her money.

“Only until you’re feeling warmer,” The words barely escape your lips before Yoongi brings you closer, his golden eyes glittering in the darkness. He expertly turns you over on your side as his arm snakes around your waist, fluffy tail wrapping around your leg. Yoongi tucks his face against the back of your neck with a content sigh, as shiver travelling down your spine as the puff of air hits your skin.

Your body locks up in shock, partly from having Yoongi pressed up against your back, but also from the icy feel of his skin. You definitely underestimated just how cold he was, it’s no wonder he was buried under so many blankets earlier.

“Thank you,” Yoongi mumbles against your hair, the arm around your waist tightening slightly. You can’t seem to form a coherent thought with Yoongi wrapped around you, but thankfully it doesn’t seem like he’s waiting for an answer.

It doesn’t take long before you hear the familiar broken purrs coming from Yoongi’s chest, the vibrations almost comforting against your back. As Yoongi’s breathing evens out, so does the tension in your body. He doesn’t feel as cold anymore, but that might be because you feel like you’re burning up from the inside out.

You would like to chalk it up to just being nervous because you haven’t been with anyone in a long time, but you know that isn’t true. You’re not nervous because someone is holding you, you’re nervous because that someone is Yoongi. You let out a soft sigh, Yoongi’s cat ears twitching against your jaw in response. You’re still not sure if this is the best idea, but it’s too late now. You’ll just have to deal with whatever outcome that will happen in the morning.

.

You wake up just in time to silence your alarm, your mind reeling to catch up as you feel soft breaths spill against your neck. It takes you a moment to realize that Yoongi is still cuddled up against your back, and another to realize how his temperature has shifted from freezing to boiling hot. You feel like you’re sleeping next to a furnace, and the drastic change worries you a lot more than what you would like to admit. It would probably be best to call in sick and stay home to make sure he’s okay, but then Jihyo would definitely be over after work to check on you, and that would probably just cause even more problems.

“I’m fine, you can go to work,” You let out a startled sound as Yoongi’s raspy voice fills your ears, the cat hybrid snuggling closer to your neck. You hear him inhale deeply, a happy rumble coming from his chest as he smells your mixed scents.

“You don’t feel fine to me Yoongi,” You desperately try to ignore how attractive his voice sounds, fighting to hold back the blush you can feel is starting to bloom on your cheeks.

“S’okay, nothing to worry about. Just need to sleep,” Yoongi untangles himself slowly, a low whine of protest escaping his lips as he flips around. He has never had to fight so hard with himself to let go, his instincts screaming at him to claim you.

You sit up to find that his ears are pinned back, his tail sliding from your legs to wrap around his own. He curls up into a ball, his hair plastered to the back of his neck. You gently lay a hand on his shoulder, but the wounded noise he lets out makes you snatch your hand back just as quickly.

“Please go,” Yoongi begs. “Don’t come back today. Stay with your friend and her dog,” Yoongi’s pained voice shifts into a growl at the mention of Jihyo and Sana. The sudden animosity in his voice almost gives you whiplash, but you have a sneaking suspicion he might be running a fever based on how hot he feels.

“Yoongi,” You hesitate. You can’t leave him alone if he’s sick, especially since you can’t take him to the hospital to get treated. He deserves to have someone to care for him.

“I said, go!” Yoongi whirls around so fast you almost tumble off the bed, the wild expression in Yoongi’s face making your stomach twist. His hair is sticking out to all sides, eyes blown out despite the light in the room. He reminds you of an animal ready to pounce as he lets out a loud hiss, his canines poking out over his lips.

You scramble out of bed, grabbing the first things you can see as you hurry out of the room. The moment you close the door behind you something smacks hard against it, Yoongi’s labored breathing sounding through from the other side. You’re about to open it to check if he’s okay when the lock clicks shut, and Yoongi lets out another growl.

“I wouldn’t want to stick around for too long if I were you kitten.”

You can’t remember the last time you got ready so quickly, only pausing in your quest to hurriedly pull out some food for Yoongi in case he gets hungry. While his sudden shift in demeanor scares you a little, you can’t help but worry. Something is definitely wrong, and while it might bring your early demise, you only have one person you trust enough to ask.

.

“I told you!” Sana chirps, her body seemingly a little confused if she should be happy or concerned that she’s been proven right. You waited until after work to spill the truth about Yoongi, not trusting the office to be a safe place to share any secrets.

Jihyo looks like she’s holding herself back from strangling you, a mix of anger and concern pulling her features tight.

“I thought you wanted me to get a hybrid?” You ask, leaning back in your chair as Jihyo points a shaking finger in your direction.

“Not like this y/n! You have no idea if Yoongi is telling you the truth. Maybe he’s just waiting for you to let your guard down so that he can murder you in your sleep!” She hisses, the action so similar to Yoongi it makes you feel even guiltier for leaving him alone at home.

“You and me both know he would’ve done that ages ago if that was the case,” You frown, anger lacing your voice at Jihyo’s ridiculous accusations. Jihyo crosses her arms with a huff.

“Scared,” Sana suddenly chimes in, her eyes glued to the table as you and Jihyo turn your attention to the dog hybrid. “He was scared. When I picked up the scent that was his strongest emotion,” She hangs her head, her white ears drooping down.

“I don’t think he would ever hurt y/n. He just seemed terrified that he would be exposed and thrown out,” You can see the guilt forming on Sana’s face, Jihyo reached out to comfort her immediately.

“It’s not your fault honey, you were just trying to protect my friend – your friend,” Jihyo pats Sana’s head comfortingly.

“I think he��s sick,” You mumble. “I can’t take him to get checked out in case they alert his owner, but I don’t know how to help him either. He looked really terrible when I left him,” Truth be told, you hadn’t been able to focus all day, your worry constantly eating away at your concentration.

Jihyo sighs, tiredly running a hand over her face as Sana leans against her shoulder.

“What kind of sick are we talking?”

“He was freezing yesterday, but when he woke up today he was burning up,” You miss the way Sana’s eyes light up in recognition, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

“Oh, uh, anything else?” Jihyo’s voice grows weird, her eyes refusing to meet yours.

“I guess he’s been clingier lately? But I just thought that was him opening up more,” You bite your lip, trying to rack your brain to remember if Yoongi has been acting weird in any other way.

“Yesterday he was uhm, uncharacteristically jealous? He said I had someone else’s scent on me, and he seemed like he absolutely hated it,” You wince.

Jihyo chokes on her breath, Sana quickly excusing herself from the table to fetch her a glass of water. Your friend glares at Sana’s retreating back with a look of betrayal as her coughing ceases.

“Yoongi isn’t sick,” Jihyo clears her throat.

“Really?” You slump against your seat in relief, but it’s short-lived. That’s should be great news, so why does she look so concerned?

“Yeah, what he’s experiencing isn’t a sickness, but rather something all hybrids go through,” You nod uncertainly as Jihyo grimaces.

“Sana had those symptoms a little while after I brought her home too, it’s uh, their heat. Or in Yoongi’s case, his rut,” Jihyo says, her hands twisting on top of the table as she tries to figure out the best way to explain it.

“It happens naturally a few times a year, you can’t really do anything to stop it. Normally the symptoms are a lot milder than what you described, but I’m guessing Yoongi’s body might have suppressed his rut for a while if he wasn’t in a safe environment. So I think this might have been multiple ruts hitting him all at once,” You can’t help but feel a little pleased at Jihyo’s comment, that Yoongi must finally feel safe for his body to try to correct what has been pushed down for so long, but it’s quickly overtaking by concern.

“So it’s worse than just a normal rut then?” You ask. Jihyo nods in response.

“I’m obviously not a hybrid doctor, but I did a lot of research before I got Sana. Usually hybrids can do just fine on their own during their heats or ruts, they just have a heightened sex drive for a few days. But for Yoongi .. It’s probably really painful to go through it without a partner. And who knows how long it might last since it’s multiple ruts stacked into once.”

“Fuck,” You murmur. You should have done some research the moment you realized he was a hybrid. He shouldn’t have to suffer just because you’re ignorant of his needs. You might not be his legal owner, but you still took him in and practically promised him you would take care of him while he stayed with you.

“Is it too late to find a partner for him now?” You give Jihyo a pleading look, desperately hoping she might have the solution to your problems.

“No .. not really. I’m sure you could find a female cat hybrid somewhere that could be with him,” Jihyo watches you carefully as the words sink in, your heart being dragged to the bottom of your stomach along with them. While the thought of Yoongi being with someone else – and in your bed of all places – makes you feel terrible, this can’t be about you. Not when Yoongi is in pain.

“But even if you do find someone, it doesn’t mean he’ll accept them.” She pauses, eyes flickering over to Sana’s returning form before settling back on you.

“He might have already chosen a mate for his rut,” Sana sinks back into her seat besides Jihyo, the dog hybrid clasping one of your friend’s hands tightly between her own. Jihyo swallows hard, Sana giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“If his behavior is anything to go by .. I think Yoongi might have already chosen you.”

- - - - Oh uh, is that some incoming smut I'm smelling? Hope y'all are ready for a chapter that will mainly be 90% filth, aksjsj. And our resident creeper is just becoming more and more suspicious, isn't he? P.s. In case you’ve missed it, I’m doing a follower event where you can request prompt for me to fulfill! So definitely check that out here if that’s something that interests you.  Hope you’re all well and my inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon! <3