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Rabbit Coloring Pages PDF Cute Bunny Easy Picture to Print Free
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#animal coloring pages#rabbit coloring pages#bunny coloring pages#rabbit coloring pages pdf#bunny coloring pages pdf#cute rabbit coloring#cute bunny coloring#easy rabbit coloring#easy bunny coloring#rabbit face coloring#bunny face coloring#rabbit head coloring#bunny head coloring#animals coloring#preschool worksheets#activities for preschool#activities for children#activities for kids
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neph's february 2024 prompt was... bunny mayhem? the streets of Catalis were taken over by a hoard of bunnylisks lol, little creatures with basiliks' paralyzing stare.
anyway paralysis + death grip of a seasoned pitfighter = nobody is winning
#crimart#Monty#Tales from Nephfei#nephfei#spinx#spinxyn#GET HIS ASS!!!!!#there's no reason the bunnylisk is atom colors it was just fast and easy haha#this one was quick but i feel like its a good testament to Monty's character getting pissed at a funny little rabbit LOLLLL
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Oh, the euphoria of a new skill...Iâm finally starting to get the hang of spinning and I get such a thrill of happiness thinking about it. Iâm looking over at my little spindle and the single I wound last night to ply today and Iâm thinking âI made that! Me!â
Itâs such a nice feeling, especially because I kinda resented spinning a few skeins ago because it was really hard and my yarn was so wonky until somehow something just clicked in how I was holding it and now I have so much more control than I used to.
#spinning is an interesting learning curve because it's quite easy to do but hard to do well#a bit like skiing so i've heard#whereas stuff like nalbinding was mindbendingly hard to figure out but really simple after that#anyways i have one gorgeous little skein of finely spun stuff that I want to ply later#oh and i started using a distaff which was really neat!#still getting the hang of it#but wow I have so much wool! So excited!#next step after i ply the single i wound last night is to learn about dyeing#because all of my current wool (except a 4 ish ounces of natural brown corriedale) is undyed cream colored stuff#and i think my yarn will be a lot happier if it was golden or purple or something#a shame my favorite colors are hard to achieve with natural dyes#but there are so many natural dyes out there!#also i'm falling down a rabbit hole...made my own spindle (which i think was what led to the breakthrough actually)#and now i am becoming too powerful#oh no#all those online people with fifty million spindles...it will be me if i'm not careful...#anyways since i don't have a lathe and kneaded erasers and blue tac are a little unreliable#i think i'm going to make a polymer clay whorl next to go on my homemade spindle#switching to a bottom whorl for a while is i think what helped me figure out how to do this#also i think i was maybe holding my wool too tightly before and that's why i was wavering rapidly between lace thickness and single-thicknes#aka thick enough to be a single#also turns out nalbinding yarn has to be way more quality than some fluff internet pieces would have me believe???#they're like *oh nalbinding predates knitting because you can use short lengths of yarn#so you don't have to have the tech/skill for longer or plied stuff*#but hello. you can knit with very fragile yarn but nalbinding? there's a LOT of friction there and badly spun yarn is p. hard#ask me how i know#anyways i think i should probably troubleshoot and find out what makes a yarn slubby because i don't know anything yet
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⥠TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, dehumanization, dollification, patronization, condescension
⥠FEM reader
This is his playroom. Itâs got puzzle-piece foam flooring and is filled to the brim with all sorts of different toysâincluding you. Heâs got stuffed animals, pretty dolls, toy soldiers, Lego builds, and a gaming station with all types of funâand parental safety restrictions, of course, no talking to strangers for you. Your controller is a pretty baby pink, and his a cool camo-green. But today, theyâre left on the floor, untouched.
Because today, he only wants to play with you.
âYouâre gonna be so prettyâŚâ His voice is as grating as alwaysâsynthetically childish, making you grit your teeth. Sitting with you between his legs before the mirror, working diligently.
You look at the floor to avoid your reflection.
Heâd gotten you a brand new baby-blue dress and painted you himselfâdone your eyelids up in matching clear skies, black lashes moth-like and fluttery, cheeks a rosy pink, and lips a sheer gloss extra plump and prettyâno need for tintâyou bite them so cutely, theyâre already his favorite color. Your hairâs done up in curls and ringlets, so bouncy and soft, beribboned with plentiful white bows.
âThis color suits you so well. Makes you look like a cake-topper. Bite-sized. I could eat you right up.â He hums behind you, fiddling with the many intricacies, doing them up perfectlyâno rush.
Looking up, the person staring back at you looks no different from a life-sized porcelain doll. Pristine, mint condition, fit to be put behind glass. In your frilly dress, petticoat and stockings. Just like Alice down the rabbit hole.
The only thing that betrays the illusion is the leather collar on your throat and the chain running from it to the middle of the floor. But no matter.
Heâs got a giddy smile on his faceâ chest swelled with pride at his work. Youâre his most prized possession. You really are! There isnât a single toy in this room that can compete with you.
Heâs not wearing anything special to match. Bedhead, undressed, still in his pajama pants. Why wouldnât he be? This is his playroom, after allâhis downtimeâwhere he can be a boy with his toy. Though, calling him a boy isnât exactly rightâwhat with him being nearly in his thirties. Not to mention that heâs about two heads taller than you, with abs like an athlete, toned and chiseled and hard to the touch, hard enough to strain your wrists when he bears down on you. Oh, and that thing in his pants.
You bite your tongue and steal yourself. It would be easy to cry, but he only gets weirder about it then. So you stifle it, even though you look so stupid you want to act like an animal. Tear the dress to shreds and rub your makeup into a messâscream, bite, spit on him. Youâd done all that once before to no avail other than punishments that still keep you up at night. Once was enough. He didnât play nice with you.
But then again, when does he ever?
âHmm, think Iâm doneâŚâ he announces after having dallied with the lace of your corset for a quarter-hourâitâs so tight you have to appreciate every breath. âTime to have some fun.â
He treats you no different from a doll either. Scooping you up into his arms like an inanimate object and carrying off to the princess bedâthe one that looks like a girlâs birthday cake with a veil on top, and mountains of pillows all too soft.
He places you down on top of the duvet and it seems to swallow you like an ocean. He dives after, covering you like a fishnet. You take a final breath before he can drown, your hand on his chest, holding him at a distance.
âI was thinking, uhmâŚâ you start, the words coming out odd, barely recognizable as your voiceâonly noticing now how long it had been since youâd spoken last. âI wasâŚâ you restart, but itâs still no easier. His eyes are large and unblinking, staring down at you as though heâs just as surprised as you are to found out you speak. âHoping we could play⌠a little differently this time?â
He blinks at the request, having fallen completely still above you.
âReally? How?â The suddenness of his words make you flinch. You donât know what you had expectedâmaybe a smile and something dismissive. It had been a while since heâd spoken directly to you like thatâand not to himself in absentminded comments about you.
You recover some time, seeing him stare down at you all expectantly in wait. He follows when you guide him into sitting instead of looming over you, putting yourself in his lapâstraddling him. âMh, like this. Maybe?â
Itâs a gamble. Heâd never had you on top before, nor ever shown an interest in it. Setting aside the time youâd been sprawled on your belly over his thighs, his hand riddled in your hair and his other hand branding your ass with his very own toy company logo.
His expression is unreadableâperhaps a little confused if you were to take a guess.
âOh!â he erupts with a smile you hope is the good sort. âYou mean I play the toy and you the master?â He laughs brightly, falling on his back with a hand over his face, cackling through his fingers as though it were the most absurd proposal heâd ever heard.
But despite his obvious amusement, you still feel itâhis toy poking into you from beneath.
He settles after a moment. âAlright then, why not?â Looking up at youâhis hair a tousled mess splayed upon the bed, eyes as gleeful as the quirk on his lips. âWho knows⌠it could be fun.â
He props his arms behind his head, lounging comfortably.
âI did call you a cake-topper, after all,â he snickers. âIâll lie perfectly still, like a good toy, while you play with me. Sound good?â
You canât believe how open he was to it. Still a little apprehensive, you nod your head.
And then the game beginsâŚ
He doesnât exactly stay true to his word. But you suppose that would be too much to ask. His head still rests pretty on the pillow with his eyes closed, smiling in satisfactionâfor now, sated with your performance. Groaning in absentminded bliss, âYouâre right. This is fun~â
But he hadnât stayed perfectly still like heâd said. Heâd reached out when youâd finally begun riding and now his arms keep you snug against his chest, fine-pressed sweaty skin against your frilly bust, more in a lock than a hug. It makes it kind of difficult to do what he wants, but you try your bestâknees and toes planted in the mattress for stability as you jerk your hips on his lap. Itâs awkward, but riding him like this is still better than the alternative, after all.
You keep your arms around the back of his neck, resting your face in the cradle it creates beneath his chin, panting lowlyâeyes closed in focus away from the pain, brows tight with your tongue between your teeth, trying to maintain the rhythm despite the blossoming ache thatâs started to spread from your hips down your thighsâanother ill sting in the small of your back crawling up your spine. Itâs hard staying bent over like this, and your movements are turning sluggishâŚ
Thereâs a sigh from above you, pitchy and just awful. âAww, is it really time already?â he whinesâprevious satisfaction dwindlingâbordering on something else entirely now, the opposite and so much worseâboredom with a hint of disappointmentâa spoiled child with a toy thatâs run out of battery.
You shake your head, burying your face in his neck and tightening your grip, stealing yourself with newfound strength to maintain the tempo you had before while muffling out a desperate, âNo, I can keep goingââ
He lets out another sound, this time in thought. âHmm...â It doesnât give you much confidenceâhow lax a sound it isâas if he isnât even close to being spent yet. âI donât know⌠Youâre so slow. Iâm gonna get soft if this is all you got, yâknow?â
He starts movingâsitting up. He takes his own hold on your hips, and you know what that means. And you canât handle being played with, not when he damn near breaks you each and evert time.
âNo, wait! I can keep going, please, just a little longer?â you insist, both palms pushed flat on his chest with your round eyes looking at him hopelessly in plead for a second chanceâeven though you know he isnât one with the patience to give you one.
He stares blankly back, big-eyed in surprise at your outburst. Though still not convinced it would be worth humoring you. If he was being honest, heâd enjoyed it more than he thought he would but had now had his fill and wanted to take charge as usual and finish the job. HoweverâŚ
Oh, youâre being so uncharacteristically cute todayâand that pathetic look of desperation on your face is truly something elseâŚ
He smiles deceptively softly, so brightly it reaches his eyes. He very nearly looks innocent like that, but you know him too wellâso well that the sight of his lips curling gives you nothing but a churning stomach.
âOkay then, doll. You convinced me.â
Suppose it doesnât hurt letting you have your way sometimes. You have been on very good behavior lately, after all. He ought to reward you.
âIâll be your toy a little longer.â He murmurs with a lazy smirk, nose-kissing youâpatronizing, as though heâs doing you a big favor.
It doesnât grant you any peace, and neither does the way he keeps his hold on your hips, rubbing smooth circles into the fat leisurely, letting you know he wouldn't be removing themâit serves as some type of encouragement as you start moving again.
Itâs easier now when youâre upright. Holding his shoulders, you can jump rather than buckâup and down, up and down, up and downâitâs simple enough. Or it was for a moment, at least, before he planted your hips down.
âNot like that,â he shakes his head softly. âLike this.â He moves you after his will, wanting you to grind insteadâputting you back in square one.
Your movement staggers, and you mask a wince with a moanâfuck, your muscles are so sore, maintaining this movement is enough to make your loins scream, feeling all but set on fire.
With one hand keeping you seated, the other takes hold of your leash and pulls you in close, his lips on the dew of your rouge-dusted cheekâyou feel the grin, and like prey threatened by a hunterâs teeth, you shiver in respect of it. âCome on, dolly, ride or die, faster,â he simpers, voice laced with mockery and amusement.
Your thighs are shaking now, tightened up in anguish, begging for a breakâsoon to take it without your permission. How much you can take reaches a point, and everything goes slack not a second too soon.
âAnd now youâre done,â he snickers hotly under his breath, planting a kiss on the side of your glossy lips while you exhaustedly and gingerly take your break with a feeling of defeat. He speaks low, and you dread every eerie lick of his words, âMy turn to play.â
You want to protest, but you know itâs no use. Heâd made up his mind now, and challenging it any further would only turn you into a nuisanceâtoys are supposed to enjoy being played with, after allâbest take it with grace and shut up before he reminds you.
He flips the both of you around with ease, reclaiming his spotâon top. He loves you like this, splayed out beneath him like a puppetâjust waiting to have all your strings pulled.
It was good while it lasted, you thinkâmaybe if you get better, you can make him finish and not have to endure what comes next.
âDonât pout, dollyâthat was fun,â he kisses you lips as they start to tremble. âBut you suit being my toy so much better.â
⥠BNHA â Deku, Denki, Mirio ⥠JJK â Mahito, Gojo ⥠HQ â Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ⥠BLLK â Nagi, Bachira
⥠FEM x M INSERT masterlist ⥠GN x M INSERT masterlist
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere smut#yancore#smut#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia smut#mha smut#yandere mha#yandere bnha#my hero smut#my hero academia smut#bnha smut#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#yandere boyfriend#boyfriend#boyfriend scenarios
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Ways to level up when you are boredđ§đ¤đ§đźââď¸
Here are some simple things you can do when you have nothing to do that will still be more productive than doom scrolling.
Learn a new hair style/makeup look! (Works best if you search it with your face shape)
Watch a video essay about a topic you know nothing about.
Take a color analysis quiz and see what colors you have in your closet that suit you.
Create a vision board (physical or digital)
Try a new recipe for easy snacks
Reorganize your space so it flows easier.
Journal about your dream life as if you already have it.
Take a walk and listen to a podcast.
Clean your makeup brushes.
Try to make outfits with clothes you never wear.
Do a face mask and a hair mask.
Try a new workout format
Go over old flash cards (no point learning something if you forget it after the test)
Say affirmations into the mirror.
Record yourself speaking normally and see if there is anything you can improve to help with public speaking.
Go down a Wikipedia rabbit hole (learn something new)
Thatâs all I have for now what do you do when you are bored thatâs not scrolling?
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The 12 houses explained: short word format
1st: Aries, Mars, Yang, Dragon, Bee, Face, Eyes, Eyebrows, Voice, Accent, First Glance, Passion, Drive, Self Esteem, 3rd Eye, Intuition, Hard on yourself, Mutable, Patience, Leader, Stoic, Muscles, Neck/Head tension, Animals, Intensity, Head scarf, Tender headed, Attracting energy vampires, Hard headed, Red, Purple, Sexual energy, Humor, Introvert/extrovert, Fear of child baring because loss of freedom, Judgement, Lymph nodes, Guitar, Fast talker, Sharp talker, Forward thinking, Warrior, Personality, Spine...
2nd: Taurus, Venus, Yin, Panda, Neck/Throat, Throat chakra, Mouth, Thyroid, Heart, Pink, Blue, Fluid, Security, Resources, Musician, Silent, Introvert, Nose, Scent, Taste, Parent, Singing, Arms, Dancing, Food, Breeze, Partnership, Sharing, Values, Luxury, Pleasure, Easy going, Soft spoken, Naivety, Split decisions, Indecisive, Moon, Father, Sturdy, Poker face, Children, Trustworthy, Grit, Victory, Horses, Trials...
3rd: Gemini, Mercury, Yin/Yang, Jack Rabbit, Hands, Feet, Speech, Tongue, Lungs, Fast pace, Exercise, excitement, Bounce back, Joy, Vigor, Youth, Fidget, Anxiety, Habits, Expressive, Musician, Storyteller, School, Journalist, Moral system, Networking, Group, Siblings, Questioning, Stocks/trading, Choices, Dedication, Picky, Options, Dare Devil, Flirt, Long lasting, Hopes, Trees/Forest, Art, Comedian, Chances, Materials, Time, Loyal, Boundaries, ...
4th: Cancer, Moon, Yin, Owl, Family, Mother, Compassion, Creation, Birth, Life, Regret, Sleep, Nipple, Breast, Anus, Stomach, Womb, Bellybutton, Heart, Sacral, Blue, White, Yellow, Ocean, Cold, Night, Cycle, Fly on the wall, Unspoken secrets, Pores, Suicide, Whispers, Distracted, Outsider, Alchemy, Caregiver, Chef, Guidance, Critical, Teeth, Passage/Gateway, Humming, Drums, Weight on your back, Pressures, Gratefulness, Gratitude, Obedience, Horse, Animals, Words that cut...
5th: Leo, Sun, Yang, Lion, Spine, Heart, Pets, Fun, Youthful, Children, Love affairs, Expression, Dance, Gymnastics, Loud, Bright colors, Short trips, Friends, Aunts/Uncles, Get togethers, Cars, Innovative, Actor, Protection, Magician, Gardening, Gossip, Alchemy, Adulthood, Relaxing, Bonding, Self destruction, Slick words, Hard work, Spotlight, Sharing, Rebuilding, Clothing, Renewed vision, Drawing board, Companionship, Grounding...
6th: Virgo, Mercury, Yin, Ant, Crane, Praying Mantis, Work environment, Routine, Structure, Time, Patience, Health issues, Hygiene, Nervous system, digestive system, Pancreas, Gallbladder, Notebooks, Writing, Movies, Home, Relaxing, Forgiving, Generous, Social Life, Bonding, Practice, Foresight, Letting go, Stable, Helpful, Tense, Pressure, Negative thoughts, Reminisce, Addiction, Sorrow, Indecision, Indigestion, Saving Finances, Strong will, Codependency, Maturing, Realizing, Criticism, Self Honoring...
7th: Libra, Venus, Yin, Dragon Fly, Peacock, Marraige, Partnership, Contracts, Joint endeavors, Kidneys, Bladder, Blood, Caring what others think, Voice, Accent, Culture, Rebuilding, Learning new ways to do, Home decor, Learning gratitude, Giving, Reseveing, Welcome home, Comfort, Jot, Warmth, Spring, Flowers, New thought processes, Building Legacy, Defending yourself, Possessions, Slower living, Connecting to nature, Center of attention...
8th: Scorpio, Pluto, Mars, Yin/Yang, Vulture, Jaguar, Phoenix Death/Rebirth, Fears, Dark, Dreams, Escaping, Running, Hoarding, Lack, Homelessness, Strength, Stamina, Restart, Hard work paying off, Legacy, Against all odds, Elimination system, Pelvis, All the holes in the body, Burgundy, Purple, Black, Sex organs, Releasing worries, Manipulation, Smothering, Misunderstood, Coffee, Over giving, Partnership, Friendship, Sensuality, Secretion, Body odor, Roses, Fruit trees, Chapel, Railroad, Balancing, Power, Unseen forces, Intimidation, Relaxation...
9th: Sagittarius,Jupiter, Yang, Donkey, Whale, Shark, Liver, Legs, Posture, Religion, Long distance, Foreign travel, New ideas, Creative thoughts, Energy, Witty, Nomad, Idealistic, Larger than life, Focused on success, Friendship, Gatherings, Social Life, Relaxing, Luxury, Boundaries, Tired, Mental Illness, Restrictions, Insecurities, Grandparents, Quiet time, Relationships, Sharing, Attention, Harmony, Rebirth, Hard work, Getting over, Time, Late night thoughts, Male role model, Weight on your back, Responsibilities, Greedy, Guarded, Proud, Protection, Unique, Lavender...
10th: Capricorn, Saturn, Yang, Sheep, Alligator Honey Badger, Cactus, Sterile, Marble, White, Grey, Cold, Winter, Snow, Reputation, Social status, Farming, Popularity, Bones, Skin, Nails, Hair, Sharp, Leather, Goat, Structure, Skin conditions, Over explaining, Hard on others/yourself, Violin, Holding onto the past, Hard choices, Seeing others happen, Collecting, Finding purpose, Unique interest, Creative ways to make money, Standing up for yourself, Tunnel vision, Sharing, Networking, Group efforts, Working on love...
11th: Aquarius, Uranus, Yin/Yang, Moose, Mongoose, Snake, Friends, Parties, Organizations, Goals, Hopes, School, Science, mutable, unique style, Different friend groups, Water, Lakes, Rivers, Driving, Circulatory System, Pituitary glands, Changing course, Fear of change, Social media, Learning to stand alone, Trusting intuition, Defending loved ones, nonchalant, Increasing expectations, Std, Dead tree, Sticking it out, Elders, Community, Taking a stand, Protest, Elections, Politics, Numbers, Releasing restrictions...
12th: Pisces, Neptune, Yin, Fish, Birds, Friends, More to go around, Letting go, Releasing Past, Decor, Eye for style, Luxury, Opinionated, Energy field, Subconscious, Mountains, Fog, Spa, Skincare, Hygiene, Safety, Frienemies, Luck, Protection, Unprovided jealously, Foreign, Secret, Being watched, Self expression, Confidence, Talents, Anxiety, Depression, Breath, Dreams, Sleeping, Ufc/boxing, Always wanting more, Magician, Plants, Sunshine, Exotic, Target, Maturity, Completion...
#astrology#astrology101#astrologyzone#astrologychart#8th house#astrologyfacts#astro notes#12th house#pluto astrology#pluto aspects#pisces#capricorn#sagittarius#neptune#venus astrology#astro community#astro blog#astronotes#astrology placements#astro observations#astronomy#aries#virgo#astrology readings#astrology observations
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yet another drabble about dad!logan because iâm watching the wolverine and love sick over this man!
obviously logan is a girl dadâŚas we seen many many many times. i can definitely see him wanting a BIG family, once you got him started and heâs seen you pregnant with HIS child? oh, that motherfucker will BECOME a mother fucker. heâs like a rabbit with you, constantly on you.
the one thing i keep picturing is the two of you setting up the nursery together. he obviously did the heavy lifting and painting, which cause a fight between the two of you constantly. âim pregnant, lo. i can do somethings, ya know?â âi know, bub, why donât ya set up the library while i finish putting the dresser together?â itâs all about compromiseâŚin some way? but the two of you spend hours in there together, trying your hardest not to lose your mind over ikeaâs confusing directions and the missing screw that fell somewhere in the room. logan is trying not to lose his cool in front of you, mumbling under his breathe. but you know once you leave the room, he shouts swears and knocks the boxes over. it makes you laugh as you grab waters in the kitchen. but once the nursery is done, you two are so exhausted you fall asleep on the floor using the babyâs new pillows. though it was sort of uncomfortable, you two felt content knowing that the room was done and your baby would be here soon.
but your first kid is a girl, his heart swells when he sees you holding this perfect bundle of joy thatâs a perfect combination of the two of you. but you swear a tear leaves his eye when that beautiful baby girl opens her eyes and they look exactly like yoursâŚlogan never had a favorite color before until he looked into your eyes. and now he gets to see it even more through your daughter. you knew logan was protective over you, that was a given. especially since you were pregnant but once the second his daughter came into the world, you couldâve swore he took over the role of mama bear. he would hover over ANYONE that touched them, made sure they washed and sanitized their hands multiple times, he would even ask people if they were feeling sick before they even entered the room. you had to convince him people didnât need to wear a mask and gloves in the hospital room. but once the team met baby wolvie, he felt at ease. a little prideful showing off your guysâ daughter, actually showing off his smile to show just how happy he is.
heâs definitely going 10 mph on the drive home, cursing under his breathe at people beeping and swerving around him, not wanting to yell in front of the baby. âlogan, you can speed up a little bit. sheâs not going to fly out of her car seat.â âstop being a backseat driver, would ya hun? i got this.â âwhatever you say old man.â
the first night was obviously tough with the baby crying and making a fuss over everything. you cried, logan held you, you both were frustrated and upset. it was tough, you knew it wasnât easy but holy hell this was shit. but you had that support system, the man you loved helping and comforting you. but once that sweet baby girl settled in your arms and finally slept longer for an hour, you both gave each other a tired smile as he kissed your head. âyouâre glowing, mama. absolutely gorgeous.â âshut up, i know i look like shit.â âshut the hell up, why would you say that?â âbecause you look like shit, papa.â you both laugh and pass out on the couch, receiving the best sleep ever in each others arms. until the baby monitor goes off less than two hours later.
đđŚ˘đkailađđŚ˘đ
#kailaâs drabbles âËŕˇ#logan howlettâËŕˇ#marvel âËŕˇ#dad logan#logan howlett x reader#dad logan makes me FERAL#heâs consumed my thoughts entirely#x men#wolverine x reader#wolverine
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hi im the one that sent the red x fem reader request earlier and I was thinking that the reader (cheshire cats daughter) is really mischievous like kitty cheshire from ever after high ?
âĽď¸Red Hearts x ReaderâĽď¸
Reader pronouns: She/her
Pairing: Red Hearts x Fem!Reader
Plot: Red wanders off to the heart of wonderlandâthe forestâand runs into her trickster friend. You're the daughter of the Cheshire Cat and always glad to help a friend feel better.
Word Count: 1.3k
Extra: I didn't have a definite plot for this one so it kind of just wrote itself without any real direction. But two people suggested this so I did it anyway!
Though the kingdom in Wonderland is where most livedâthe real heart of Wonderland is the never ending forests. Down cobbled paths that seemed to lead wherever it desired, large trees with twisted trunks surrounded.
Pink, purple, and blue, colors that youâd never see above the rabbit hole in nature. But in Wonderland, any vibrant and unreal color was natural and very real.
Red occasionally found herself walking out this far when she got the chance to sneak away. It was like a completely different world than the castle. Flying spade shaped fish, talking flowers, animals bigger and smaller than they should be, it was something Red loved. She loved the crazy colored mushrooms that danced on the floor and she loved to get away from the tyrannical reign of her mother.
Now you, the daughter of the Cheshire Cat, never had to worry about falling victim to the tyrant that ruled Wonderland. Really, she only ruled part of Wonderland. Wonderland was huge and impossible to control everyone, though the Queen did try. But you and others always managed to slip from her grasp and live your own ways.
Sprawled out on a branch, up high in a tree you sat looking down awaiting for anyone to walk by. Just like the Cheshire before you, you were always playing pranks. Always causing mischief and trouble whenever you could. So stalking out your pray from up high in a tree was how you spent any afternoon.
It didn't take long for you to notice the princess walking down the path with her bright red hair. Red wasn't someone you got to see very often, but she was your favorite person to mess with. She always knew just how to get back at you instead of just taking any prank you threw her way. You always appreciated a good prankster.
As Red walked down the path, she seemed to be a little too distracted to notice the spiraling weeds by her feet. It was just what it sounded like, weeds that spiraled. Specifically latching onto anything that got a little too close.
One wrong step and Redâs ankles were wrapped by the vines and swept off her feet, letting out a grunt as she hit the floor.
You couldn't help but giggle at her fall and annoyed expression.
"Kitty..." Red muttered, eyes darkening after hearing your giggle.
"Oh, hi Red." You grin, lounging in the tree above as she looks up to meet your eyes. "Have a nice trip?"
"Not really." Red grumbled, stomping until the weeds let go of her and she hopped back up to her feet.
You then disappeared, only leaving a trace of your grin before appearing beside Red in just a moment, "Oh my, I wonder who left their spiraling weeds here? They're in such good condition too." You said innocently but your grin was anything but innocent.
"Ha-ha, very funny, kitty." Red said sarcastically, putting her hands on her hips.
You clasped your hands behind your back and tilted your head, the grin never leaving your face, "So, what business does the Princess of Hearts have this time around?"
Red let out a frustrated sigh. It was easy to assume that her mother must've done something yet again to make her upset. That was typically the reason Red said she came out this far. But it was obvious she liked to come see you. You were mad like anyone else in Wonderland, but at least you never judged her.
"Just my mom being the most controlling person ever." She complained, finding a large mushroom to sit on and sulk.
You slid over to sit next to her on the mushroom, tightly sat against her, "Well, she is an evil tyrant." You giggled.
Red looked at you from the corner of her eye. She always tried to act annoyed with you but it was hard. Even if you were very annoying, you were never as bad as anyone else Red was forced to be around. You and Maddox were her only friends and the only people she could bare to be around.
"You know what I bet would cheer you up? Going to the tea house." You suggested.
Red didn't seem entirely thrilled with the idea. But it wouldn't hurt to go, so she shrugged, "Sure. You're paying, right?"
"Anything for my purr-fect princess." Your grinned widened.
"The cat puns will never be funny." Red crossed her arms, raising a brow.
You hopped up from where you were sitting and started rummaging through your pocket. You pulled out various things that definitely shouldn't fit in a pocket. A ruler, a houseplant, a rabbit, and then finally a large paintbrush. "Let's not waste anymore time." You painted a stroke of paint in the air as tall as yourself and a door suddenly appeared.
You opened the door and held it open for Red, she walked in and you followed, leading into the tea shop.
The shop had flying tea cups, stripped walls, and a ceiling so high up you couldn't see it. There wasn't anyone else at the shop currently, there weren't really regulars either. The tea shop moved every couple hours and it's impossible to find. Luckily for you, you didn't have trouble finding things.
You sat at a table and Red sat in front of you. A couple menu's with wings flew by and you both managed to catch one.
"The options are never as good as I remember them." Red declared as she gazed over the menu. She decided on what she wanted and let the menu fly away.
"The kit-tea is always good," you remarked. Though Red seemed unimpressed by the name of the drink.
"I'll just have what I usually get." Red leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving yours.
Once you two had both determined what you wanted, a tray flew down on the table with both of your requests. "Hmm? The hipster tea? Must be drank before it's cool? I thought you hated puns." You teased, picking up your tea cup and saucer.
"I do. And I especially hate that pun. But it tastes good." She replied, taking her own and drinking it.
The two of you enjoyed your time drinking your respective drinks. Red would complain about something happening in her life while you responded with riddles that didn't quite make sense with a grin. This was your favorite thing in the world. Even more than pulling any type of mischief, you loved being with Red and listening to her talk and talk about whatever she wants. It was comfortable and filled you with more joy than your body could contain.
Once the two of you were done, you pulled out a wallet to pay. Not your wallet, of course. Why would you actually be the one to pay when Red is a princess?
"Hey! That's my wallet!" Red exclaimed, snatching it from your claws.
"Is it? Not sure how it ended up in my pocket." You grinned mischievously, your hand already managed to swipe a spade from it and paid for your drinks.
Despite just being stolen from, Red chuckled, "It is strange how my wallet just happens to mysteriously appear in your paws." She said sarcastically with a smirk.
"It's a wonder." You leaned forward across the table, your faces almost touching. "I suppose I'm lucky you never do anything about it."
"Hmm... Really? I do expect you to pay me back." Red's smirk grew.
Your grin always somehow managed to grow bigger and bigger everytime, "I'm sure we could arrange something." You teased. Then you leaned in closer for a moment and pecked her on the lips, "How's that for payment?"
Red leaned back and tapped her chin, mock thinking, "I guess it'll do... For now."
"You always never could settle for less, could you?"
The two of you laughed together. Sometimes Wonderland wasn't so bad. Sometimes Red liked it there. And sometimes she found comfort. Even when her friends are just as mad as the land itself.
#descendants#the rise of red#descendants the rise of red#descendants x reader#rise of red x reader#descendants rise of red#red descendants#rise of red#red x reader#princess red#red hearts#red x you#x you fluff#disney x reader#x you#x reader#alice in wonderland#fem!reader#disney descendants#descendants 4#Wonderland#descendants fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#Descendants fanfic#queer writers#queer
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Gotch-yer Back
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.5K
Warnings: Violence, Walker death, other TWD character death (Amy), Daryl being a bit of a jerk and then fixing it, let me know if there's anything else! Basically what seems to be regular TWD fanfic warnings. Also I believe this is only Fem!Reader because he calls Reader "girl."
Summary: A retelling of the night walkers attack at the quarry and how you and Daryl help each other deal with the aftermath.
You tried to remember the last time youâd eaten fish. It had been a while, a few weeks maybe? A few long weeks forcing yourself to eat squirrel or a rabbit if you were lucky. Or if you were unlucky, even snake. Youâd eat whatever was caught if you were hungry enough, or simply to stay alive another day.
Fish was a delicacy these days. The girls- Amy and Andrea had caught a load of them in the quarry. It was white fish which had always been your favorite. It was easy to cook and fell apart in yummy flakes. Hell, you didnât even need a fork.
It was hot in your mouth and the heat of the meal radiated in your belly. The group chewed and chattered while you were lost in your own thoughts. Your mother used to make a great dish when you lived with her. Cod with a breading on top that was made with Ritz crackers. You missed her. You missed her cooking. You wondered where she was now-
Everyone laughed suddenly and the sound made you jump.
âWilliam Faukner,â Dale said, smiling.
Lori reached over Carl and rested a comforting hand on your arm. Understanding glowed in her eyes in the firelight. Loud noises always made you nervous these days.
By the time you saw the pan of fish that had been passed around, the last filet was being pulled out of it by a stabbing fork.
âShouldnât we save some?â you asked Lori. âThe guysâll be back soon.â
âWeâll catch some more tomorrow,â Andrea said to you, catching your attention from a few seats down.
âYeah,â Amy said. âWeâre pros.âÂ
Despite the light conversation, Lori looked grim. You and her seemed to be the only people worried about the men whoâd gone off to find Merle and the bag of guns that was left in the street in Atlanta. She had her arm around Carl as he munched and grinned at Dale. You couldnât imagine how she was feeling about her husbandâs return, nevermind his volunteering to lead the charge back into one of the most dangerous places in this new age. Heâd just gotten back. It was written all over her face as she gazed into the flames of the fire.
You werenât a fan of Merle. In fact, you disliked him thoroughly. The pit in your gut surrounding his abandonment had nothing to do with his safety, or his life, but with Darylâs. You werenât even sure if you liked the younger Dixon either. He seemed to follow too closely in his brotherâs footsteps to be safe or dependable. Or even nice. But you did respect him. After all, heâd helped to keep you safe and almost single handedly kept the group fed with his hunting and tracking skills.Â
Still, no. He wasnât very nice.
You had a feeling, however, that you had his respect in return. It only took a few crude remarks from Merle for you to fire back at him with enough force to keep him off your back for a few days. Daryl apparently hadnât been too far away that day and had heard your reply to Merleâs degrading comments.Â
âImpressive,â heâd said. âFor a quiet girl.â
The next time Merle got colorful with his words towards you, Daryl was the one to take the heat for you. Told his brother to quit it. Since then, your relationship with the older Dixon was extremely minimal and even when it was forced, he left you alone.
Though you wouldnât have missed Merle one bit, you watched Daryl take the news of his desertion when the cop- Rick- told him what had happened on the supply run. While you of course expected fury from Daryl, you hadnât expected such emotion to fly out of him. He was a wrecking ball of threats and fists with tears running down his dirty cheeks. It was sad.
He must have seen the pity in your face then. When you called to him, tried to calm him down and move him away from Shane, heâd shoved you. âGet lost, girl.â
Needless to say, the men in this group were difficult. But at least the others were in the group. Daryl was on the outskirts of it and without his brother, it would be too easy for him to get thrust out. While you didnât want that, you knew it was also vital for the survival of the group for him to stay. You had a feeling he wasnât as impenetrable as the armor he wore.
You were worried about Daryl. You were also worried about Glenn and T-Dog, and Rick- Lori and Carl included. And as you sat there before the fire, you wondered what the hell would happen if Merle returned.
That was when you heard Amy scream. You didnât recognize the sound at first, it was so sudden and so loud. It was a cry of anguish and fear. One that begged for help.
After that, it was chaos.
You turned over your shoulder, watching Amy and her assailant, even pondering for a split second who had snuck into the camp. What stranger would go after a girl just trying to go to the bathroom. But of course, it wasnât a who. It was a what.
âGet behind me!â Shane roared.Â
You knew there wasnât time. Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed the unfamiliar hunting knife you had with you and unsheathed it. You stepped over the log youâd been sitting on, away from the fire, but also further away from Shane and the safety of his gun, towards one of the geeks. It wasnât just ugly and rank and dead, it was terrifying. The look of it, the smell of it made your stomach sink so far, it felt like itâd fell out of your body.
It snarled and gnashed its mouth at you while its thin, wiry fingers reached for you, but all the while, you focused on its hair. It was the same in death as it was in life- long locks of protein that couldnât hurt you. Harmless. So you aimed your knife there.
In the brain, in the brain, it has to be in the brain, donât you know anything-
The thing stopped once your knife sunk into its skull. Its arms dropped to its hollow sides and its lifeless eyes looked at you, long enough to send a shudder through you before it dropped to the ground, taking your one and only weapon with it.Â
âGet up here! Come to the RV!â you heard.
There were more screams, the thunk of childhood baseball bats slamming into hard skulls, the echoing sound of gunshots. Closer to you, though, and more urgently, there was deep guttural snarling, groaning and gurgling- the sound of the dead coming for you.
Shane had brought the children to the RV, safe, their backs leaning against the cold metal. Lori and Carol were there, Jim was at the treeline with his bat, Andrea on the ground with- with Amy. Amyâs body. You were alone. In the middle of the chaos, too far from any other living humans to take any aid.
â(Y/N)! Get up here! Jim!â Shaneâs voice was hoarse.
You dove for your knife, yanking it out of the walkerâs head with a squelch. You could only manage three or four steps up the hill before another undead was upon you. It was too close, its long nails a hairâs breadth away from your bare skin and its decaying teeth lunging closer with every stride. Again, you had to gather all your strength, grip your knife tight and focus- be calm enough to aim for the enemyâs brain. You had one chance, or youâd turn into one of them.
Carl would have to see it, Sophia, Lori. Daryl.
You grunted with the effort and the tip of the knife hit home and sunk into the geekâs head. This time you were able to free your knife before the thing fell to the ground. You scanned the land in front of you, looking for more threats. There were so many bodies on the ground. Bodies of people from your group, people that youâd gotten to know. They were lying still now. Leaking onto the dirt.
Then an arm wrapped around your middle and dragged you uphill. You screamed and thrashed, but whatever had you was strong.
âItâs me,â his voice rasped in your ear.Â
It immediately calmed you. You held onto Darylâs arm as if it were a buoy saving you from drowning in gray, storming waves of a murderous ocean. He led you to the others near the van and deposited you there before letting go of you.
He was back. You saw Rick, T-Dog and Glenn, all in various states of emotional disrepair, but Daryl just looked around, calmly taking in the carnage.Â
âDaryl,â you said to him, âyou okay?â
âWhaddah you think?â he snarled. âYa see mah brother anywhere? Huh?â
So the moment was short lived. You ignored whatever he said next, running your hand along the outside of the RV, using it as a crutch as you moved to check on Carol and Sophia, then on Lori. You didnât have it in you to survey much more than that. You trembled from the inside out and watched Rick hug his little boy as tears streamed down his face.Â
At least they were back.Â
It was somewhat painstakingly decided that you would all save the cleanup for tomorrow morning. The survivors had vans or tents to escape into. To leave the dead outside. Except for Andrea. One look at her- that was all you could handle- and you knew she wasnât going to leave her sister any time soon.
You fell to your knees, jeans sinking into the soft dirt and stared into the flames of the campfire that was still burning strong. It was only then you found the hunting knife still in your tight grip, crusted over with brown, lumpy goo. At that point in the night, you couldnât understand exactly what the remains were and for that, you were grateful. The bit of blade still showing reflected in the light coming from the pit, shades of orange and red glowing between your fingers.Â
Shane crouched beside you and though his landing was silent and agile, you jumped.
âSâalright,â he said, taking the weapon out of your scrunched hand. âLemme clean it.â
âI can clean it,â Daryl grumbled from above, snatching the knife from Shane. âSâmine anyway.â
Shane let it happen, concentrating on you. He carefully set a hand on your shoulder. âYa did good,â he said.
âYou too,â you answered, like a little league pitcher on the losing team.Â
He stood and put his hands on his hips. âTry ta get some rest,â he said from the air.
You nodded.
Only when Shane was gone, did Daryl move closer to you. He sat on the ground and leaned back against the log the group had been using as dinner seats less than an hour ago. He sat back for a while, leaving you to watch the flames die down as he worked one of his rags into the crevices of the hunting knife. Slowly, you heard the others of the group- those living- say goodnight to each other and slide into their respective dwellings for what was left of the evening.
Distantly, though he sat just beside you, you heard Daryl speak. âSâright bout one thing.â
âHm?â
âYa did good. I saw ya when we were runninâ up the hill. Doinâ what I told ya to do.â
You turned to him, but he wasnât looking at you. Your feet stung under you, asleep after kneeling on them for so long, as you moved to sit on your bottom next to Daryl. He turned the cleaned knife in his hand before passing it you, handle out.
You shook your head. âItâs yours.â
He plopped it on your lap. âSâyours now. I gave it to ya. Youâll need it.â
You didnât want to need it. He knew that too. All the same, it was a good thing heâd left it with you when he went to Atlanta. If he didnât, you wouldnât be sitting next to him right now. Speaking to him. Feeling the heat that didnât just emit from the fire, but from him by your side as well.Â
âThank you,â you said, sliding the knife back into its sheath and into your pocket, where you hoped it would stay, unneeded for a long time. Or at least for the rest of the night.
You turned to him, but again, he wasnât looking at you. He rarely did. But you knew he was still there, still with you by the way his head tilted towards you. Like he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. As if you were a deer in the forest, ready to bolt away from him at any moment.
âIâm sorry you didnât find Merle.â
He shifted uncomfortably. âYeah right. You hate Merle.â
âHate is a strong word,â you said.
He chuckled- a grim, gruff sound deep in his chest.Â
You watched him, feeling free to do so since he so rarely looked you in the eye. He was biting the inside of his lip over and over and picking at his fingernails.Â
You waited.
He peeked at you, inhaling deep. âDidnâ mean ta snap atcha. Earlier.â
When he yelled, you thought. By the RV, after heâd pulled you to safety.Â
You nodded. âSâalright. Itâs been a tough day all around.â
Humming in agreement, he turned back to the fire. You two were square now. But you also hoped he knew that if he snapped at you like that again, you wouldnât be so quick to forgive.Â
There was a flapping from above that shook the leaves in the trees. It was a soft, peaceful sound of nature, but after this night, in this new world, it startled you to your core.
âJust a bird,â Daryl said.
You sucked in a breath that made your lungs quake in your chest. âIâm sick of being so scared all the damn time,â you mumbled, tipping your head forward, holding your face in your hands. Things had only been like this for two months? Three? And you were already exhausted, tired of it all. How much longer could you take? Or, how much longer would it take for you to just-
Daryl stood. âCome on,â he said. He waved toward his tent. âGotta getcha away from this damn bloodbath âer youâll never calm down.â
You violently shook your head. âI canât- I donât wanna be alone-â
He was already walking toward the tent he shared with Merle. âYer stayinâ with me. So I know where ya are.â
Your system went from fight or flight to frozen. He- Daryl- wanted you- where? After every shove and snap and swear towards you, now he wanted you to come with him? To be in his space? Overnight?
You stared at him. He tossed his crossbow into his tent, lifting the flap and heading inside when he turned back and saw you still on the ground in front of the fire.
âOr do ya wanna stay out here alone?â
âNo.â
âThen get off yer ass.â
You scrambled to your feet and scurried to the tentâs flap. You felt like a scolded child, like your dignity had been left in the dirt, but you didnât care. After the walker attack, you couldnât be alone and you had been trusting Daryl with your life for weeks now, not that youâd ever tell anyone that. You felt the safest when you were with him. Tonight you needed that. Especially tonight.Â
âYa can take that side,â Daryl mumbled, pointing.Â
The tent was small. Big enough to stand up in, but not very wide. There were two sleeping bags strewn out close to each other with a lumpy pillow on each. He tossed an extra blanket onto the side he told you to take. It was the one with the crossbow at its foot. And you recognized his cut off flannel shoved into the duffle beside it.
âI canât take your bed.â
âAinât a bed,â he said, spreading the other sleeping bag open flat and sitting on it.
âWell, I canât take your bag.â
âWould you rather stick your face in Merleâs pillow all night?â
You grimaced, thinking of the monster of a man and what heâd probably done to that innocent pillow.
âThought not,â Daryl said. He grumbled it, but you heard the smirk in his voice.
âThe definition of âpick your poisonâ,â you said, crouching to sit on the soft sleeping bag.Â
âGirl-â Daryl said, swatting at you as he rolled over, putting his back to you.
You swung back, smacking his shoulder. âI was kidding.â
In answer, he gave another blind swat, making you giggle.Â
You laid back into the double layer of sleeping bag, enjoying the way it was cool to the touch underneath you. The pillow, though thin, felt nice when you situated it under your head the way you liked it. Everything around you smelled like him- gas, grease, cigarettes- yes, but something else too. It wasnât a bad smell, just a natural one. Just Daryl.
You were laying on your side, facing him. You watched him sink into the darkness as you spun the dial on the lantern until it turned off. Dark, though it was, you could still see his form clearly. Not sleeping yet.Â
âThank you, Daryl,â you said.
He grunted, flopping to lay on his back and folding one of his arms under his head. âGet some sleep.â
It was then you realized how small the tent really was. When he laid on his back, his leg could almost touch your knee as you curled up on your side. He was an enigma, alright, you thought. Couldnât bear to look you in the eye, saved your life, snapped at you in front of everyone and now slept beside you like it was nothing.
You sighed, following suit and laying on your back too. âDonât think Iâm gonna be able to catch much of that,â you said.
His pillow rustled as he looked toward you. âWhat the hell happened there?â He took your hand from where it rested over your forehead and studied the angry red scrapes and purple bruising on your knuckles. âThis happen tonight?â
âNo,â you said, taking your hand from his grasp and tucking it under you, embarrassed. âHappened earlier.â
âHowâd you bust it up like that?â
âI, um⌠I just hurt it. Against Edâs face.â
Daryl gave a laughing hiss. âI saw his face. You did that?â
âSome of it. Shane did the rest.â
âFuck yeah.â
âHe had it cominâ,â you said, barely finishing the last word and regretting saying anything at all. Ed may have deserved a few punches, hell, he deserved jail time. But what happened to him tonight- eaten alive, alone- you werenât sure anyone deserved that. It made your stomach roll in your gut and you stung with shame.
âFucking badass, girl,â Daryl said.
It was quiet in the dark for a long moment.Â
âMânot, Daryl. Iâm just fucking scared.â
There was more rustling beside you as Daryl shimmied around on his sleeping bag.Â
âTurn over. That way,â he said.
You did as he told you, laying on your side with your back to him. His body moved up against yours, his heat blooming on your shoulders, bum, and the backs of your legs. A little too forcefully, he lifted your head to slide his arm underneath and cradle you close.
âAinât nothinâ gettinâ in this tent tonight. I gotchâyer back. You can handle your front.â
You nodded, feeling tears gather in your eyes. Your cheeks were hot, as though they were on fire as you cried, finally letting out the emotion of the evening. The death, the kills, the fear, and the relief all ran down your face and into your shirt or onto Darylâs pillow or his arm supporting your head. As your breath caught, he reached around you with his free arm, hugging you close and rubbing his thumb on the skin of your injured hand. You grasped him hard. You needed to.
Before this night, you werenât sure what you thought of the younger Dixon brother. He was rough and nasty and you wondered just how much he took after Merle. Before this moment, you thought heâd run for the hills if you ever touched him with one single finger, nevermind your whole body- your whole being like you were now. But he was there, still with you and unbothered. Safe.
âSleep,â he mumbled.
You nodded, squeezing his hand again before letting it go and allowing your body to relax against his. And eventually, in his arms, listening to his steady breath, you slept.
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fluff#Daryl dixon twd#twd#twd fanfiction#twd daryl dixon#twd daryl#daryl twd#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl x reader#the walking dead
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oguh dude youve got me on a starscream kick, i love how you write him so much. not a request (cuz im not sure if you take them) so much as it is a brain dump but godddddd he seems like he'd be such a sucker (affectionate) for a tender touch. running your hand along the back of his, over his knuckles. affectionately headbutting his lower jaw/just in general bc i think he'd think cuteness aggression is adorable, once he figures out what it is and that you arent actually trying to do any real damage so much as its just... processing. in a very cute, very strangely human sort of way. akin to those harmlessly angry kitten videos, maybe- like the one thats wiggling its paws through the bars of an open crate. oguh but on the more romantic side of things?? kissing his knuckles. or his finger tips, either or, and maintaining eye contact while you do. im not sure how to feel about him but youve got me feelign some kinda way (affectionate) about him, thats for sure
Yes! I love the idea of big, powerful Cybertronians being undone by a little softness or affection because theyâre just so unused to it and donât know how to react.
Everything is Alright Pt 21
Starscream x Reader
⢠Venting in bemused affection, he flexes his servos, tapping the end of one against his berth. You scowl up at him. Such a dramatic little thing. Heâd only set you down to retrieve a clean drying cloth and youâd run straight for that old polishing cloth he gave you. Now youâre backed into a corner, shivering and so thoroughly wrapped in the cloth only your face is visible. All because heâd destroyed your soiled coverings. Hadnât he told you heâd replace them?
⢠He means well. He does. You have to keep repeating that in your head as you smother the urge to just scream as he crooks a finger at you, expecting you to come to him like an obedient, little pet. And despite yourself you want to, youâre wet and cold. Curling up against your giant alien space heater sounds wonderful. Except youâre naked under the blanket and as stupid as it is, youâre embarrassed about that fact. He probably couldnât care less, but you do. âI need clothes.â
⢠Optics narrowing, he presses his palm to the berth and leans forward. Itâd be easy enough to just grab you. Wings flicking, he canât understand why youâre being so stubborn about this. Hadnât you told him cold was bad for humans? âCome here,â he growls, letting some of his annoyance at your little rebellion color the words. And there it is. Face reddening, you sullenly walk toward him and heâs able to carefully curl his servos around you, lifting you up so he can sit with you. As soon as he tries to tug that cleaning cloth away, you frantically swat at his servos again and he smiled despite himself, because really?
⢠Really?! Grip going white knuckled on your pitiful cover with one hand, you slap at his servos. Not that you can really stop him, but itâs the principle of the thing. And the not being naked factor, because youâve reached your humiliation limit for the day. âIâm fine,â you hiss through your teeth, shoving at his hand. Venting so hard, you feel the blast of warm air, he actually growls at you. And then the world drops out from under you.
⢠âFor Primusâs sake.â A scream lodges in your throat as you suddenly fall without actually falling. An arm hooks around you, fingers gripping your chin to turn your head. âYouâd think Iâm trying to skin you, the way you act,â snarls a gruff voice right in your ear and your stunned brain just canât. Because your giant, alien robot isnât so giant and you really just canât deal with it. Or the fact that youâre sitting across his legs as he uses the end of your blanket to rub your hair dry a bit too roughly. You wonder if this is what having a heart attack feels like, because you canât breathe and your heart is rabbiting against your ribs. Trying to get your brain to work, you crane your neck to stare at his face as he scowls down at you. Heâs still much bigger than you, just not giant and you canât manage anything besides staring dumbly.
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Other Characters you can legally use for your Mickey Mouse project
Mickey Mouse is in the public domain, as is Minnie Mouse and Peg-leg Pete. There's some caveats to that, and I talk about that more in this other post, but for now, let's talk about other characters who you can also use to fill out the cast.
These characters should all be in the public domain, though some characters still have treademarks. I'll get into how to use them safely as we go. Anyways, let's start.
Other Disney Characters
Disney obvciously doesn't advertise this, but there's actually quite a few Disney originals who've actually been in the public domain for a while.
The Mad Doctor never had it's copyright renewed, and so it's very technically the first Mickey Mouse cartoon to enter the public domain. Keep in mind, the version of Pluto featured in the short isn't in the domain just yet, but the Doctor himself is free to use.
What's funny is that Disney would later use a version of Doctor for Epic Mickey. Obviously don't use that version of the character.
Aside from the Mad Doctor, we also have Oswald and Ortensia
Yeah, as it turns out, Oswald's been in the public domain for quite a while, but he's still trademarked by Disney. Easy recommendation... use the original "fat" design of the character and have him go by Lucky.
But before Oswald, we have the Alice Comedies
Everything about the Alice Comedies is Public Domain for a long time, and the Disney corporation very rarely acknowlege these characters existence. Which is a shame because These shorts were some of the first shorts Walt ever produced, and they have the unique gimmick of featuring a live action girl in an animated world.
Everybody already knows about Oswald, but nobody talks about Oswald and Mickey's older brother from these shorts, Julius the Cat
Like... yeah no, it didn't all start with a mouse. Or a rabbit. It started with a cat.
Foxy and Milton Mouse
Both Foxy (top) and Milton (bottom, pictured with his girlfriend Rita Mouse) were characters created by Warner Brothers and Van Beuren respectively to cash in on Mickey's success, and both characters are also in the public domain.
In fact, all Van Beuren cartoons are apparently in the public domain, and I encourage you to find their cartoons and use them as you please.
Fleischer Characters
Betty Boop is probably in the Public Domain, but there's a few caveats with this. From what I can tell, the name Betty Boop is trademarked, but the character herself isn't. Most of the old Betty Cartoons are free to use, but newer incarnations, including the versions used in 1985's The Romance of Betty Boop and 1989's The Betty Boop Movie Mystery are still very much under copyright.
To avoid any legal trouble, I have two big recommendations. Although everybody remembers Betty as having Black hair, in one of the few early instances of Betty being shown in color, she's actually depicted as Redhead.
This is Betty Boop in 1934's Poor Cinderella, and her hair color is pretty clearly red.
The other option is to just make her black.
Though there's been some debate as to whether Betty Boop was intentionally modeled after Esther Lee Jones or not, there's still no denying the influence of Jazz on the character. Betty Boop is a Jazz singer and is often depicted dancing to Cab Calloway. Hell, the Betty Boop musical features Jasmine Amy Rogers as the titular character.
Betty Boop aside, there's an entire world of defunct Betty Boop characters who are definately public domain, including Bimbo and Koko the Clown.
Next year, Popeye's also gonna enter the Domain. So keep an eye out for him too.
Anyways, these are my picks, but obviously this list isn't meant to be comprehensive. There's a ton of old cartoon characters out there who can be freely reinterpreted into newer works. Feel free to add your own favorite public domain cartoon to the list.
#Mickey Mouse#Public Domain#Betty Boop#Koko the Clown#Foxy#Milton Mouse#The Mad Doctor#Oswald the Lucky Rabbit#Alice Comedies#Disney#Walt Disney#Max Fleischer#Warner Brothers.#Cartoons#Animation#Editorial
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Run, Rabbit
KĂśnig/Reader
Wordcount: 3.8k
Warnings: 18+, Violence, Injury, Smut, lightly noncon but in the way that you're fighting it but are down, KĂśnig being insane
No use of Y/N
Summary: You're on a solo mission in Romania, and KĂśnig goes hunting
A/N: "Oh look another predator/prey coded Konig fic how original" SHUT UP I KNOW
AO3: Run, Rabbit
18+
Youâre in the forests of Romania on a solo mission, snooping around an abandoned military base thatâs been the location of some suspicious activity, according to your sources. You find the ghost of the for-hire group Kortac in rat-chewed maps and files, faint footprints in layers of dust, but the trail has long gone cold, the building slowly being reclaimed by nature. The trees show no sign of the changes of autumn, but it's in the air, the late summer whisper of a chill in the breeze. You take your time picking your way along the overgrown roads, enjoying the tranquility of the forest. The extraction point is ten clicks west of your position, but youâre content with your steady pace, the sun still high in the sky, shining brightly through the thick foliage, and the hike is an easy one. Your meager findings are carefully folded in your bag of gear, your gun snug on your hip. Ten meters to your right, a red deer raises its head up, watching you warily, before bolting away into the trees. You smile to yourself and raise your face to better feel the sun.Â
You hear the crack of the shot and drop, but not quickly enough. Your ears ring, your shoulder burning agonizingly, like someoneâs pushing a hot poker against it. You fight against the nausea and pain, willing yourself to move, scrambling into the brush for cover. The shot came from your six, and you grapple for your binoculars, trying to locate the shooter on the hill above you. You recognize the mask first, the bleached tear tracks down an executioner's hood, the hulking form of the figure wearing it unfortunately familiar. KĂśnig is standing casually, seemingly unafraid of any return of fire, staring down like he can see you through the trees. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle instinctually as he begins to move, a sauntering pace down the hill like the slow lope of a wolf. You drop down again, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you crawl through the underbrush.Â
Nestled low on a hill, large body half buried in the underbrush, KĂśnig watches you through the scope of his rifle, toying with the idea of killing you. He recognizes you from the files heâs seen on the 141, but there was nothing left at the base for you to find, no reason to draw suspicion and attention back here. You were harmless like this, and magnetic, head tilted towards the sun, your face lit up in a wash of gold light that plays up the color of your hair. His finger brushes lightly across the trigger as he contemplates his options. He rolls his neck loose before glancing through his scope again.
You stop behind a small boulder, pressing your back to it, breathing heavily, and pull your radio off of your hip. âBravo Six, this is Bravo Seven Four, over.âÂ
The crackle of the radio is a relief, Priceâs voice faint but firm. âGo ahead Bravo Seven Four, over.âÂ
âEnemies one; direction east of my grid two hundred meters, injury sustained, six clicks out of extraction point, over.â You peek out from behind the rock, but can't see anything, so you continue your crawl, waiting for a response. The birds have stopped singing, a deadly quiet that warns of danger.
âStay calm Bravo Seven Fourââ Priceâs voice is cut off by the sound of another bullet whizzing near you. You canât have your radio giving away your position, and the squad is too far away to reach you before KĂśnig could. You grab your radio and quickly press the button.Â
âBravo Six, silence, meet at extraction, over.â You turn it off, not waiting for a response, and tuck it back into your belt. Ignoring the growing burning in your shoulder, you move as quickly through the underbrush as you can. You need to cover more ground if youâre going to make it out of here, so you weigh your options, propping yourself into a low crouch, scanning the woods behind you. You canât see or hear anything. You inhale deeply, then break into a sprint.
The cracking of branches is faint, but KĂśnig is listening for it, his rifle slung over his shoulder as he searches for you. He immediately changes directions, moving towards the noise and quickening his pace. If you want to run, heâs more than happy to indulge you, relishing the adrenaline of the chase. Your trail is clear, broken branches like a beacon beckoning him closer. He spots blood on one of the low boulders, and swipes it up on his gloved hand, smiling under the mask.Â
You're hyper aware of your disadvantage, the sounds of snapping branches as your pursuer draws closer, the sluggish flow of blood down your shoulder from where the bullet grazed you. Your lungs burn, head woozy as you run hard, branches scraping at your form. You risk a look over your shoulder, searching for KĂśnig behind you, and your heart drops when you miss a step.Â
All of a sudden, you're falling, hands stretched out in front of you as you tumble down a steep hill. You hear and feel the snap of your ankle in your boot, a whimpering sob yanked from your chest as you finally land heavily in some thorn covered bushes, branches scratching your body even through the thick fabric of your uniform. You pull yourself out, ignoring the pain as thorns drag against your face, drawing blood, then scan yourself quickly, the prognosis bleak. You can't run, not with what is definitely a broken ankle, and your shoulder is still oozing freely, but you wonât go down without a fight. You drag yourself through the dirt using your good arm, stopping periodically to listen to the sounds of KĂśnig moving through the trees. Your entire body burns, and you fight against the growing fatigue thatâs threatening to overwhelm you, trying to hold onto your quickly waning adrenaline.Â
The sound of breaking branches draws nearer. Heâs moving faster, heavy footfalls that make your leg muscles twitch with the urge to run. KĂśnig whistles, high and loud, and you reach for your gun, cocking it as quietly as you can, turning around to face the direction of the noise, crouching low. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear creeping in, the weight of your situation crashing down on you.
âI heard you cry out,â a voice rings through the trees. There's something light in KĂśnigâs tone, like this has all been a game of tag. âYou can't be too far.â
Then the only sound is the breeze, rustling in the leaves. Blood from a cut on your forehead drips into your eye, and you resist the urge to wipe it away, scanning your surroundings as best you can without moving.
The unwelcome feeling of the muzzle of a gun presses against the side of your head, and your body shudders involuntarily.Â
âDrop your weapon, Häschen,â KĂśnig murmurs. You comply immediately, tossing it at his feet, unwilling to argue with a Beretta at your temple. The large man quickly kicks your gun into the bushes. âSit up,â he commands, and you move slowly, trying not to aggravate your broken bone.Â
The small shack hasnât been used in a while, the table in the center of the room is covered in dust, and spiders have made their home in the corners, spinning silvery streamers that hang down, brushing against his helmet. KĂśnig places you lightly on the small bed in the corner, stooping over uncomfortably in the low room. Your hair is full of sticks and leaves, your face scraped and bleeding. He needs to look at your shoulder, and the ankle youâd been hovering over protectively, but work comes first. Youâve thrown him off, his fingers tingling where he held you to him, the phantom pressure of your head on his chest as he carried your unconscious body through the woods haunting him even now. He grabs your gear bag, dumping it unceremoniously onto the table, pulling your medkit to the side before rifling through the papers youâd found. The information was outdated, but he shoves the papers into one of the pockets of his pants for disposal later regardless.
You knew he was large, but kneeling at his feet he feels like a goliath, towering over you, the gun held in his grip looking comically small in his giant hands. He holsters it, and you get a stupid, moronic, brilliant idea. In a quick motion, youâve ripped your radio off of your belt, pressing down on the button and bringing it to your lips. âMAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAYââ KĂśnig slams the heel of his palm into the back of your head, and the world goes dark.
He doesnât bother stripping you properly, just takes his knife and slices it up through the collar of your shirt, baring your shoulder to him. His eyes, unbidden, trace the line of the now exposed column of your throat, and he swallows loudly in the quiet of the room. KĂśnig draws his attention back to your injury with some difficulty. He barely even grazed you, the puckered wound bleeding sluggishly, and he quietly gloats at his own aim. When he pours alcohol on it, you awaken with a hiss, throwing your arm out hard in his direction reflexively before your brain catches up with you. He deflects you easily, wrapping large fingers around your wrist, enjoying the feeling of the delicate bones, watching with silent smugness as your confusion reads clear on your face.Â
âGuten tag,â he says, pleasantly casual, as though youâve run into him at the grocery store. Your head is pounding, and youâre thrown, trying to grasp your surroundings. Your shoulder is burning, and youâre suddenly aware of the air on your bare skin. You rip your hand out of his grasp, pulling yourself as far away from him on the small bed as you can manage. He tilts his head, studying you.Â
âWhat are you doing?â You ask, your voice hard.Â
KĂśnig gestures with the alcohol heâs holding. âIâm patching up your injuries.â His voice is low, his accent curling around the syllables of his sentences like smoke.Â
You blink at him, utterly disarmed. âWhy,â you pause, biting your cheek as a wave of pain radiates through your ankle, âAre you patching up my injuries?âÂ
âWould you prefer it if I left them?â He volleys back lightly, tilting his head.Â
You donât say anything, staring at him with suspicion. Heâs got you cornered, quite literally, and thereâs no way you can get away from him with your ankle like this unless you can get your hands on a weapon. Thereâs a knife tucked in your boot, but you canât exactly pull it out subtly. His beretta is on his hip, his rifle is leaning against the table, but youâd be lying to yourself if you thought you had a chance in hell of reaching either before he could.Â
 KĂśnig takes your silence for compliance and goes back to dabbing your wound with alcohol. You flinch when he places his hand on you, and he makes a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat. âSuch a nervous little rabbit.â The mask conceals his expression from you, but you can hear the frown in his voice.Â
âYou shot me,â you respond dryly. âDoesnât exactly foster trust.âÂ
 âJust a scratch. I couldâve killed you, if I wanted to.â He shrugs, a casual movement thatâs unintentionally intimidating, your eyes on the way his shoulder muscles move beneath the layers of clothing he wears.Â
You spend your time with large men, the boys of your team all averaging above six feet, but KĂśnig is just startlingly gigantic. You scan his torso, eyes tracing across the wide planes of his chest, lingering too long to be decent. You catch yourself and drop your gaze down to your hands. âIf you donât want to kill me, what do you want?â
âI want to know what you are doing here.â His tone is still pleasant, but interrogative. His fingers are deliberate, surprisingly gentle as he bandages your shoulder, but thereâs an unspoken thread of tension in the air.Â
Youâre much more docile when he patches up your ankle, an uneasy truce between the two of you. You sit still as he splints it, legs draped almost intimately over his lap, his large fingers curled around your injured leg, gentle pressure holding you steady as he works. He adjusts his hold, squeezing lightly on the meat of your calf, and your breathing stutters. His eyes flick to yours, something dangerous in their expression, and you hold his gaze as you deliberately drag your uninjured leg closer to you, your boot trailing across KĂśnig's upper thighs intentionally. His eyes slip close at the sensation, just for a moment, and that's when you act, yanking your knife out of your boot and sinking it into his thigh and launching yourself to the floor. He lets out a snarling cry, and you scramble up, your vision going white from the pain of your ankle, but you push through it, sprinting out of the shack.Â
âChasing shadows.â You respond, your voice equally mild. You know he looked through your pack and probably found the papers. You wonder if he thought it was ironic that you came sniffing after KorTac, just to run right into him. You certainly did.
You can't run properly, reduced to a hobble that's made all the more difficult by the fact that you're on uneven terrain in the quickly growing dark. You need to figure out your location and find a way to contact your team, but youâre disoriented and disarmed. You havenât made it more than a few meters when you hear the sound of the front door slam open. You pick up the pace, trying to put as much distance between you and the very angry Austrian hot on your trail.Â
âHäschen,â KĂśnigâs voice rings through the trees, and a trickle of fear runs through you. You duck behind a tree, pressing yourself against it firmly, trying to blend in with the darkness.Â
âAlways trying to run away,â he snarls, shoving his body against yours. He thrusts his uninjured thigh between your legs, pinning you further, and you let out an unintentional gasp at the sudden pressure of hard muscle against your core. KĂśnig instantly pulls away, his eyes shooting down to your ankle with concern, before dragging slowly up your body, his gaze accusatory. Â
He can hear you breathing, light and quick, and he doesnât even try to disguise the heavy sound of his footsteps as he closes in on you. He whips around the tree youâre cowering against, and you try to bolt, but he wraps his fingers around your bicep, yanking you back, slamming his hands above your head, trapping you against the tree.Â
âYou like this,â he says, and you shake your head desperately.Â
âI donâtââ he interrupts any denials you might have, deliberately grinding his thigh in between your legs. You clench your teeth against the noise it draws from your throat.Â
He leans impossibly closer, your noses almost brushing through the hood he wears. âDid you like the chase as well?â His voice is a husky rumble, full of heat, and you have to bite back a whine. âI liked the chase.â You realize the hard length against your stomach isn't his Beretta, and an unwanted spike of arousal shoots through you in response.
âYouâre insane,â you snap, grappling for some semblance of control over the building pleasure in your core. KĂśnig pulls away from you abruptly, and you flush at how wet you are, soaking through your underwear.Â
âHow about a game, Häschen?â his voice has lost its edge, back to the pleasant tone he used in the shack, and your head spins at the sudden change. âI'll give you five minutes to run or hide, and if you can make it ten minutes without me finding you, Iâll take you to your extraction point myself, safe and sound.â
Your heart races. You donât trust him, but there's no way you'll get another chance to get away from him. âAnd if I canât?â You ask.Â
You know youâre fucked, but you scramble through the darkness as quickly as you can, trying to find a good place to hide. If your ankle wasnât broken, youâd climb a tree, but youâre stuck searching for ground cover, listening with mounting paranoia to the quiet noises of the forest. Youâre a celestial body pulled unwillingly into KĂśnigâs orbit; collision unavoidable.
He says nothing, just purposefully presses his hard cock against your center. Traitorous want flows through you.
You hear him coming, branches breaking as he stalks towards you. You stand as straight as you can, letting him approach you, his eyes bright in the dim of twilight. When he comes within range, you lunge for his gun, almost succeeding in yanking it out of the holster before he grabs you around the waist and pulls you to the ground, pinning you roughly beneath him.Â
Even as he manhandles you, you're hyper aware of the delicate way he avoids putting any weight near your injured shoulder. He's got your legs splayed around him, but he's careful, adjusting you just so, keeping your ankle tucked safely away, angled so he won't jostle it. His hips press obscenely against your ass, and you can't help arching your back into him, begging for his cock even as you swear at him.
âGet the fuck off of me,â you spit, and he just laughs, an off-putting, mean sound, before reaching around and ripping open your pants. The button pops off, and the zipper teeth split forcefully apart as he shoves a hand into your underwear.Â
âComplain all you want, Häschen, but you're soaked for me,â he coos into your ear, roughly rubbing your clit. You moan at the contact, and he moves his hand lower, pressing his palm against your clit before shoving a finger into your wet center, roughly splitting you open. You gasp at the sudden stretch, KĂśnig giving you no time to adjust as he pulls his finger out for a moment and plunges it back in, moving in and out at a punishing pace.
âTell the truth.â He orders, adding a second finger. He curls them, stroking your inner walls, bullying you open until he finds the spot that makes you see stars. âSay you want me to fuck you.âÂ
You're beyond words, making a derisive noise that transforms into a whine as you move your hips back, driving KĂśnig's fingers deeper, your ass rubbing against his clothed erection. All you can focus on is the press of his body against yours, his fingers unspooling you, pulling you apart as he pants along with you. The tension is building, the knot in your stomach tightening as KĂśnig forces you closer to the edge.Â
He pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you devastatingly empty and unsatisfied, and you let out an anguished whimper despite yourself. He pushes your pants roughly down around your thighs, and the purr of his zipper opening makes you clench reflexively around nothing.Â
He presses right against your entrance, a breath away from splitting you open on his cock. You shove your hips back, trying to fuck yourself onto him, and he pulls back. âSay you want this,â he demands.Â
âFuck. You.â You snarl, even as your thighs tremble. He drags the head of his cock up through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, and you gasp.Â
âSuch spirit,â he murmurs. In a single motion, he sinks into you, splitting you in open, pulling the air from your lungs.Â
He thrusts into you fast and hard, like he wants to tear you open, and it hurts, even with how soaked you are. You cry out, trying to squirm away from the pain. His fingers find your clit again, his breath hot in your ear. He dwarfs you, your legs shaking from pleasure and the weight of him on top of you, pressing you into the dirt.Â
âYou wanted this.â His voice is a panting snarl, his talented fingers stealing your senses as he forces you closer to your orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the forest air as he pounds into you without mercy. âSay it.âÂ
âI want this,â you whimper. You feel the shocking whisper of his lips against the junction of your neck and shoulder and realize with a start that means heâs not wearing his hood. All thoughts are shoved out of your head as he sinks his teeth into your skin, and you wail as you snap, the sensation dragging you over the edge, your body trembling as you cum. His thrusts become sloppy, his cock twitching inside you as he shoves his hips against yours, filling you up. He stays like that, flush against you, as his dick softens, keeping you full and trapped under him.Â
You lay in the dirt panting, hollowed out and raw. There are pine needles prickling against your skin, soreness awakening in your limbs as you come back to yourself. KĂśnig climbs off of you, still cognizant of your injuries, and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like a lover, the brutality melting into tenderness like watercolor. His hood is back in place, and the world comes crashing down around you as your senses return, the weight of your actions pulling you down as regret and shame bubble under your skin.Â
The walk to the extraction point is silent. KĂśnig holds you cradled against his chest; your hand fisted in the front of the vest he wears. His thigh burns, his entire body consumed with exhaustion, but he clenches his jaw against the pain, focusing instead on your face, turnt up towards him, open and vulnerable, eyes rimmed with red. If he was a better man, he'd be sorry.Â
KĂśnig notices your eyes glazing over, the warble of your chin, and reaches up a large hand to cradle your face, wiping away tears you didn't realize were threatening to fall. âHush bunny, you did so well,â he croons down at you, his saccharine actions thrown in high relief against how violently he handled you before. âSuch a good girl for me.â
He sets you down gently on a large rock, and pulls your knife out of a hidden pocket, his hand raised in a placating gesture as he slowly places it beside you. Itâs still got his blood on it, dried to rust on the tip. You donât reach for it, pulling your uninjured leg up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You look even smaller than you did before.Â
He straightens his spine against the odd sensation in his chest. âTell your captain to keep a closer eye on his men,â He orders, then reaches out a hand, hovering just above your cheek bone. Neither of you bridge the gap. Â
You watch him disappear into the trees, the shadows swallowing him whole, the sound of a helicopter in the distance.
#konig: i showed minimal restraint when causing u bodily harm y wont u let me hit#part of me didnt want to post it because its simply so unoriginal but thats kind of how tropes work fun fact#I also just hate how it turned out eventually I'll rewrite everything but for now I'm just sorry#foreplay is actually shooting someone nonfatally btw#and reader has a pain tolerance like a mother fucker because this is poorly written fanfiction#I cannot write smut I literally wrote everything but the sex and then sat on it for weeks I have such a hard time with it#konig x reader#konig fanfiction#konig x reader smut#konig x you#cod konig#konig/reader#cod x reader#konig cod
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Witchcraft and Cars
A small list of ideas of witchy things that you can do to your car. I hope this inspires you!
Keep a protection satchel in your car
Put road opening oil on the dashboard/outside of car/mirrors/seats/etc. to avoid traffic (not Abre Camino oil)
Put luck oil on the dashboard/outside of car/mirrors/seats/etc. to avoid accidents
Hang charms or spell bags on the rearview mirror
Keep crystals in cup holders/door pockets/glove box/etc.
Make steering wheel covers or mirror covers and enchant them
Making and/or enchanting window shades
Get air fresheners (vent or hanging) that correspond with your intents (scent or shape)
Use essential oils that correspond with your intents
Keeping a worry stone in the car
Keeping lucky things (rabbit feet, feathers, luck charms, etc.) in the car
Playing grounding/visualizing/whatever music that corresponds with your intents for the day
Keep a spell bag in your car to bring it back to you if itâs lost/stolen/towed
Keep a mini broom in your car (for protection and to clean it)
Create sigils to use in your car (drawing them on with writing utensils/water/oil, keeping a piece of paper with them written on it, etc.)
Enchant windows and mirrors to be more aware of the road and conditions
Keep a satchel to remember things (parking permits, your registration and license, your wallet, your keys, etc.)
Enchant coins for prosperity and easy access to parking or tolls
Get car washes to cleanse and purify your car or to banish unwanted energies (spirits, people, luck, etc.)
Keep a grounding spell in your car to always find your way home (never get lost!)
Keep a spare divination tool in your car just in case
Keep a voice recorder in your car to record any spiritual thoughts or ideas you may have and to keep your mind flowing
Enchant your steering wheel to turn easily
Enchant your mirrors to never go out of place
Manifest/pray/etc. in traffic or when having to wait in your car
Use colors from stickers, covers, decor, etc. in your car that correspond with your intent
Enchant your tires to never get stuck, never get you lost, never flat, etc.
Take random drives during slow hours to clear your mind or ground yourself
#witch#witchcraft#witchy#witch tips#witchblr#witch community#witch aesthetic#witchythings#witchyvibes#witchery#witchlife#witchcore#beginner witch#witches#witches of tumblr
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Before I Leave You (Pt.65)
(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.
Tags:Â Angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, Everybody lives nobody dies,
W/c:Â 15.0k
A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.
Previous part - Masterlist - First part
The abandoned industrial building rises without warning from the mist and fog. You could almost call in lonely. Although it has its comfort in its stillness, the same way that monsters that do not move do not instill fear. A foe vanquished but not forgotten.
The body. The dust. The puddle of blood by the door is more than enough evidence for plausible deniability. The faint splatter of it here and there like confetti left after a parade, or flower petals that fall in spring and pile up like snow.
Moonbyul stands in the doorway, like a pagan in a house of God. Out of place and out of mind. Dark coat unblemished by dust or blood. She doesnât stoop to touch the ground or try and clean up the evidence from Jimin and Jinâs misbegotten hours here. She doesnât think Hobiâs name, although she knows it.
God does she know it.
Sheâs poured over all the files that her men have collected about your pack for weeks now. Searching out weaknesses like a snake searches rabbit holes for soft fur and an easy meal. Sheâd spent the most time lingering over Taeâs file. The photos that shift from short hair to long, lipstick that she finds too pink and distasteful.
Red is better color.
She'd spent a long time pouring over Jinâs too because sheâd needed to. Jimin and her cousins had been glossed over. She already knows enough about them to last a lifetime.
But only one file had given her paper cuts. Revenge on paper is not as sweet as it should be.
She doesnât need to read that file anymore. Although she hears the words that the youth said so many months ago on repeat, you and Hobi in the coffee shop caught only on security camera. âI think I heard something I shouldnât haveâ. As well as the ones that followed.
Contrary to popular belief, Moonbyul doesnât like killing. She views it only as a necessity. She looks at the blood on the floor without any disgust. Itâs been a long time since sheâs cleaned up any alpha's mess, and sheâs not going to start now.
She looks down at the blood and smiles. Itâs a rare thing- seeing her smile. Itâs different from her grin that bares her teeth. Sharped incisors changed and honed just before sheâd been appointed the head of the moon family.
She remembers her mother's words when sheâd looked at them in the mirror for the first time, She remembers that she could still taste the file they'd used to carve them. Metallic, like blood on her tongue.
âAll the most dangerous alphas have fangs; youâll need to learn to use them if you want to fill your fatherâs shoes.â
Familial death is more of a rite of passage than a time for mourning in the family. A time when power shifts and secrets get covered up or aired out. Like the moon waxing and waning.
Moonbyul hadnât been born with fangs, the way alphas always are. Moonbyul hadnât been born with a lot of things.
A smiling Moonbyul is either a happy or a bloodthirsty one. And a happy Moonbyul, when properly stroked- means they get privileges.
Privileges in their pack, amount to small little things most of the time. A night where they donât have to take the heat inducers. A night where they can wear comfy sweats instead of the lingerie and stifling silk. But if they're extra sweet and good they get better things. A free evening where they can see their families as long as they come home before sunrise.
âDo you think heâs dead?â Solar is dressed as her clone today, with stockings pulled up her milky thighs flashing beneath the long hem. Extra extra cute in the way that she loops her arm into Moonbyuls and pouts. as if she's upset that her alpha is paying more attention to the murder than her.
She still smells faintly of sex, moonbyul, and her own ginger scent. Not like fresh cut- the kind that baked goods have around Christmas time.
Moonbyul smiles, rapping her long nails against where Solar's arm is curled around hers clinging to her as if her life depends on it. It does- Moonbyul and her both know it does. But Solar has always been a good pet. Sheâs never needed quite as much correction as Wheein who likes to know exactly where her cage ends and begins, or like Hyejin- who needs nearly as much combatting and careful maneuvering as their enemies.
She'd learned from Hyejin. Had never let the others have quite as much freedom or get used to challenging her. There's a reason why Hyejin had demanded to wear her mating mark and why Moonbyul had let her have it.
Omega's however sweet and however docile, still need a cage. Moonbyul's only ever tried to branch out of her tastes once, and she won't ever do it again. Disastrous as alphas are. They make piss-poor lovers and disobedient needy pets.
She sighs. Alphas and their messes.
In truth, the pack could use someone truly obedient, someone for whom being good is as easy as breathing to balance them out. The pack could use a good pup. The pack could use you.
Moonbyul burns in want, stewing in it ravenous. Itâs not love, itâs not even really lust either. Sheâs never been an easily sated person. Sheâs always wanted too much, always finished the whole pint of ice cream in one sitting. Sheâs always wanted everything.
Thatâs why sheâs smiling, because sheâs about to get it.
She stands a little straighter, holding out her palm. âWhy donât we go see.â Moonbyul doesnât turn to leave, however. She doesn't walk towards the body dumped at the back of the building, still bearing Jin's fingerprints. A single strand of hair would do it. She doesnât make any move other than to reach into her pocket and take out a lighter.
She thinks of the family's assassins; The Bee, The Spider and The Wolf. She thinks of Park Jimin. The snake. Hopefully either dead or in the process of dying.
The body in the back of the building is another one of hers. She never thought that this would be the end of the Wolf, he'd always been one of their most reliable killers. Always showed up on time too, an exemplary employee. Not to be easily duped. She'll have to figure this out and pin down What did him in. But that will take time and energy, only one of which she has.
He was only supposed to wait in the wings and ensure that neither Park Jimin nor Kim Seokjin left this building alive, nothing more.
Sometimes things are just coincidences, sometimes if you're lucky- they're just bad luck.
This doesn't feel like bad luck, this feels like revenge.
Solar makes a noise in her throat, a questioning chirp. She really is trying to be her cutest right now. Moonbyul wonât reward her in a way that she likes, a way that she wants. Even songbirds still feel the itch to fly. Clipped wings and all.
She looks at the flame, sparking.
âWhy wonât you just leave the evidence? Wouldnât that be easier?â Solar is not as good as Hyejin at handling this sort of thing, not as experienced. But sheâs currently handling other more important things. Things that need her finer touch.
Solar doesnât understand why Moonbyuls going to light this place up like a fucking Christmas tree and do Seokjinâs dirty work for him. Solar is only a pup, and sheâs been kept like that because Moonbyul likes pupish omegas.
She likes the innocence and obedience that people who weren't made for this kind of life have. So eager to please that they're willing to debase their souls. There is no greater sacrifice, no greater sign of love than someone willing to do anything for you.
This also happens to be why she likes you. Why she will have you. because neither Solar nor Wheein have ever been as good at this as you were. The perfect medium between sinful and pious. Cute even while killing.
And 5 is a prettier number than 4. 3 pups for her and Hyejin is a prettier number than 2. They need more than one for each.
Just one more pup, and then their collection will be complete. It took them so long to find the right one, so much trial and error. (Moonbyul despises errors. She's going to try and kill one before this is through)
She wonât let you slip through their grasp, not a second time. You should have never been Yoongi's.
âWouldnât it be easier to leave this as evidence? So that the FBI gets them all? We could just like- buy them off if they wanted to take her too-â
âOh pupâ she croons, half gentle. Flicking the lighter and letting it burn in front of her face before she tosses it The soil is so soaked through with gasoline that it lights as easily as a candle, slowly spreading from wall to wall and then- in the doorway, until the heat is too much and they have to move away.
âThat wouldnât be any fun now, would it?â
~-~
(Now, Namjoon)
Namjoonâs shirt is soaked so thoroughly with blood that it makes him cold. The hospital always feels cold, goosebumps rise like a mini mountain ranges on his arms. The hair pressed down where the blood has dried.
Itâs not his first time covered in blood, but this time feels different.
Heâs shivering, teeth clattering. His hands shake almost too bad to fill out the intake paperwork because heâd rather do it now than later. Park Jimin (registered, Kim) Alpha, weight 165 lbs (give or take a few). Blood type AB. No medications. No known allergies, no known prior conditions. No no no.
No.
Namjoonâs hands shake. He leaves Jiminâs âoccupationâ blank.
Yoongi sits a few paces back, staring vacantly off into space. On the surface Namjoon would assume that heâs having no reaction and is feeling absolutely heartless about everything that's happened in the last 3 hours. But his breath becomes stuttered every few minutes, like he has to manually force himself to inhale and exhale. Like itâs taking all of Yoongiâs faculties to keep himself breathing and upright and not in a heap on the floor having a mental breakdown.
He kind of wishes Yoongi was crying and screaming instead. Then at least- Namjoon would feel like he had to be the strong one.
He can't get the feeling of stabbing Jimin out of his head, or the sound it it, the wet squelch of knife hitting skin.
Namjoon has cut into people thousands if not hundreds of thousands of times by now. But heâs only cut into someone he loves once, and god Namjoon never wants to do it again- wonât ever be able to touch warm prone flesh and hurt it, not after Minnie. Never again.
The pen in his hand weighs a million pounds. He contemplates asking for a piece of paper and writing out his resignation letter. he breathes in for 5 and out for 9, then sets it down on the clipboard and slides it across the counter for the nurse to take. Namjoon doesnât hear her quiet tone asking him if he's alright and if there's anything she can do. just shakes his head on instinct.
There is a gaggle of nurses looking around the corner peering at Dr. Kim.
"Do you think he dresses like that outside of work hours?" "I never thought I'd be so attracted to jeans and a tee-shirt." Giggling in quiet voices.
It feels so strange, to hear people laughing while Jimin is dying. Namjoon almost wants to go bite their heads off and report them for poor bedside manner to the hospital manager.
This is Namjoonâs hospital. But Namjoon canât find it in himself to smile or say thank you to the nurse when she tells him that the second she gets any news on Jimin, he'll be the first to know. He canât say anything through the mountain of emotion in his throat.
If Namjoonâs love is a mountain, then his anguish is a river threatening to drown him. Yoongi smells like it- the line where water turns clear to brackish, Yoongiâs miserable scent has always smelled like the churning sea and now something that feels an awful lot like seasickness makes Namjoon sway on his feet.
Since heâs done with the paperwork, he promptly returns to Yoongiâs side and sits down. Only once he's sure he's stationary, does he pull a nearby wastebasket over between his knees to upend the contents of his stomach. It hits the top of old gauze pads crumpled up at the bottom and smelling like piss with a surprisingly violent sound, drawing the gaze of more than one person in the waiting room. At least it finally quiets the giggles.
Yoongiâs hand finds Namjoonâs knee, the hole in his jeans, The back of his ribs, stroking once twice. steady and hard the way that Namjoon likes. And Namjoon wishes he could snap at Yoongi. Wishes he didnât curl into the touch. Wishes he was angrier. Wishes Jimin was perfectly alive and breathing and not going to-
Yoongiâs hand settles on the back of Namjoonâs neck, his throat, pulse hammering, thudding.
Theyâre just kids and Yoongi's hands are calloused. They've always been.
Deep down Namjoon still feels like heâs only 8 years old. Is just a kid and just starting to understand that the world isnât all just papercuts and skinned knees; that it means something when people hurt. That it means something when you tell them you wonât let them hurt anymore.
He remembers promising Jimin something similar- a long time ago, the summer they all first met:
Namjoon remembers Jimin, standing in the apartment that wasn't theirs yet, after a movie night, the first movie night that the pack had ever had togeather (not totally togeather, becuase you and hobi hadn't been there yet but still).
It was the first time Namjoon had ever seen Jimin in something other than a designer sweater, sweats and a tee-shirt so ordinary that Namjoon was surprised it didn't make him look less intimidating. standing in the doorway waiting for Namjoon to notice him and look up from his medical journal.
"Yes Minnie? Did you need something?" jimin had shifted from foot to foot. looking up at jimin, a first slice of vulnerability in his eyes.
"Tae and Jungkook, they've got a bit of pain in them. I want to know what you intend to do with it." namjoon set his glasses to the side, the papers rustling as he forgets his reason.
"Make it better hopefully?" Namjoon had been struck with how oddly intense he'd been. Jimin had opened up with time and had gone sweet and trusting with the right amount of love. But he'd looked intimidating in his dark clothes and the wrinkle between his eyes like he was used to furrowing his eyebrows. A cute detail that Namjoon already wants to brush away. To touch. to cradle. To love.
He'll catalogue all of Park Jimin's cutest things in time. He'll treat love as a scavenger hunt, to find the softness in someone who tries so outwardly to be gruff and strong.
Namjoon's stained sleep clothes and promises felt all the more shabby in comparison.
"I need you to promise."
Namjoon had avoided it. Unwilling to meet his words with the same intensity. Jimin doesn't take chances with Jungkook and Tae. Tae's low laugh from the other room, Yoongi's matching grumble, overly fond already. Overly fond from the beginning.
"What about you? Doesn't everyone have pain?"
"Just promise."
"I promise to look after the three of you." Jimin had scoffed. Puffing up like a bird with too many feathers.
"I don't need looking after. Just them- when I go away for work."
"I know, but let me do it anyway." Smiling at the pretty alpha was so easy, so easy with the sounds of Jungkook and Jin's giggles in the other room. Laughter building itself into the walls around them.
"I promise not to hurt you or them. You have my word."
Namjoon lied, Namjoon lied back then and he didn't even know it. He upends his stomach again and Yoongi rubs down his spine.
âHeâs not going to die Joon, heâs going to be fine.â Namjoon continues to empty his stomach, itâs pizza mostly, a bit of coffee, and a half-digested protein bar from this morning as well.
âDoes hurting the people you love ever get easier?â Namjoon asks. Honesty, not anger in his tone.
Yoongiâs hair has gotten longer and hangs in his eyes. Yoongi never grew his hair out before you, always kept it in that short black sort of coconutty style. It makes him look older and all the more beautiful. Namjoon wonders if thatâs why you like it; How regal it makes your mate look.
Yoongi has asked so much of Namjoon in the last few years, from leaving to coming back and bringing you. To hiding the mating mark and now this. Namjoon tells himself he should care more about Yoongi's lies and less about the fact that he just lied, period.
âNo,â Yoongi grimaces. He always gets so quiet when things are bad, steady in that consistent way. He still hasn't stopped stroking Namjoon's back. Namjoon knows this is simply all Yoongi knows how to do, his first instinct is to love and not much else. âIt was never easy.â
Itâs not weird that they re-hash this now. Every time Namjoon learns more about how and why Yoongi left, he understands it more.
âI threw up too, just so you know- when I left, leaving you made me so sick that I hurled the second I got on that train. It was the hardest thing Iâve ever had to do.â He blinks back wetness in his eyes, âI don't remember if I've ever told you that."
Namjoon nods. He can't remember right now either.
Itâs been an hour or so now since Yoongi drove fast but steady steady steady to the hospital. Namjoon in the back while he stabilized Jimin in much the same fashion that you'd done earlier. The rest of the pack should be here soon. The three of you only lingered behind to clean up a bit and change your clothes, covered with blood and muck and who knows what else.
Yoongi sits like a statue and Namjoon canât even look at him, canât ask any questions or even start because he already feels like heâs yelling, and Namjoon hates yelling. This isn't isnât exactly the most private venue for secrets that could land Jimin in jail.
Namjoon's still not entirely convinced that stabbing him was worth it. Namjoonâs brain is dizzy with terror. Heâs still dizzy when he turns and sees you walking through the front doors to his hospital, Jin and Hobi trailing behind you.
He remembers the way youâd looked the day theyâd gotten you checked out for the first time; how youâd run and pressed your face to his chest and buried your face there like just the sound of Namjoon's heart could make every demon and monster go away. For a moment, Namjoon thinks you might do the same thing. But your steps are measured, slow, and purposeful.
Namjoons eyes train on you, following you as you walk,
Yoongi stands, leaving Namjoon sitting with a cooling pail of vomit between his legs. he says something to you, to jin, but you don't pause, continuing until you're standing in front of him.
You don't say anything to him, just peer into the bucket and make a disgusted face down at it. Namjoon's teeth feel too sharp in his mouth with such a tense jaw.
Hoseok is on the phone, face gaunt and tired-looking. He must have drawn the short end of the stick and has the job of calling Jungkook and Tae and telling them what happened. They really shouldnât drive themselves, but all Namjoon can reasonably do is restrain himself from cornering you and Jin and start demanding answers.Â
He barely even turns to Jin when the omega goes up to the desk and asks if they can have a room, please. A private place for the pack to nurse their worries and not crowd the already-packed waiting room. Namjoon couldnât name the nurse by name right now if he wanted to but heâs well known here and well-liked too. They give them one of the adjacent exam rooms to wait- Jiminâs surgery will take a few hours more, and there isnât anything to do but wait.
Terrible terrible waiting, terrible terrible time. (You get a bucket when you want a drop and a drop when you want a deluge. Time only comes in two increments; too much or not enough.)
You drop a hand on Namjoonâs shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes.Â
But once Namjoon's moving itâs hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction. Staggering.
Youâd taken precious seconds to change your blood stained clothes before following Namjoon. You all pulled on the first things you could get your hands on. Which is how youâve ended up in your mateâs shirt and Jungkookâs jacket, and how Hoseokâs in one of Taeâs extra-large pink sleep shirts stained from hair dye underneath Namjoonâs puffer coat and a pair of jungkook's grey work out sweats. Jin had been a little bit more purposeful- his sweatpants match- his matching purple set.
Namjoon's shirt is dark from blood, the bloodstain drying crusty, sticking to his skin like glue.
To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if heâs not careful. He doesn't walk to the chairs no- he bee-lines it to you.
He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path.Â
Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of fear is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.
An alpha. An alpha hunting.
You tremble but you do not move to avoid him when he corners you.
He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.
His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.
His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, inches away from low snarl.
âNever make me hurt one of our packmates again.â You swallow, although itâs hard. And he pinches again- harder before you get a chance to speak- to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. Namjoon holds your face the same way he held the knife- tenderly.
âI mean it. Never.â
He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, leaving you gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your shoulder and neck, You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.
âIâm sorry.â You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His spiky silver hair hits your skin. Rough.
After a second, he opens them again. Nodding. And his scent loses its bitter edge. He guides you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. Your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat.Â
Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around you, a shield and a cage.
âItâs not okay.â Iâm not okay, âbut I forgive you.â Your knees do give out when Namjoonâs hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in, a half hearted scruff that feels a bit like an apology of his own.
Even if he wants to be angry, anger wonât accomplish anything. Especially with you. His anger will only make you afraid and although Namjoon cannot be expected to control his emotions all the time, you have no reason to fear him.
He's never going to hurt you. He promised.
He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. The plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin's on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you.
You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery. Every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm. the first few hours when it will go off twice and prompt examination of his vasculature and operation site as well as a fresh dose of blood thinners. The biggest danger going forward will be blood clots; one too large in jimin's arm could leave his hand with nerve damage, numb for good.
But for now, Namjoon looks down at you, yoongi, and jin sitting in the plastic chairs. Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.
âExplain.â Namjoon canât wait another minute, another second. âExplain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I'll-"
Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces."Â
"You don't honestly expect me not to be angry that I had to stab jimin do you-"
"No, but don't yell at her. I have my limits."
"I wish I was one of those limits, but i'm clearly not since you insist on fucking over our pack-"
Jin turns, cutting them off from their argument with the true shock of his next words. You know that's what he's intending- but it sort of backfires. "Joonie, Don't get mad at Yoongi or her for this. Especially since I'm the one who shot Jimin. It was an accident."
You flinch, then put your head in your hands, namjoon's scent goes impossibly thick and angry for a second before he gets it under control. You physically watch Namjoon's hackles raise. watch Yoongi push back in his chair, leg jumping, running his hands through his hair looking from you to Jin, then back again.
"Jin, you should have kept that to yourself."
"What the fuck-"
Namjoon looks like he doesn't know weather to cry or laugh. "You don't just shoot someone on accident-"
Jin's got the best scoff, one worthy of music screens not just the quiet tomb of this room. Your relationship that's dying all around you. "You don't just stab someone on accident either and yet here we are-"
There are some secrets you take to the grave and others that you keep for too long, so long that they make a grave out of you. Keeping secrets is like keeping someone else's heart beating, you run out of blood eventually.Â
You might vomit up the truth all over the hospital floor just like Namjoon did a few minutes ago. You feel sick and light-headed and sort of like you might have low blood sugar. namjoon's scent, angry alpha affects you more than you realize.
You start to teater, and their next biting words get extinguished when you almost fall out of the chair, nearly sliding to the floor before Namjoon catches you. One knee dully aches as he picks you up like you weigh nothing, ducking in close, real concern in his face, all his anger gone.
"Shit are you okay?"
"Pup?"
"Just got lightheaded-" Whatever it was, your lightheadedness will have to wait for another time. It's honestly probably just stress. Your heart feels like it's beating extra fast, extra hard.
Namjoon places you gently back in the chair and Yoongi touches your shoulder, the trio of their concerned faces that you swat away.
"We should wait for Hobi." You still owe him an explanation- for earlier and these aren't the kind of secrets you say more than you have to. A cup of water gets thrust into your hands and for once, they fall silent.
When Hobi comes in heâs mostly quiet holding his phone in his hand. Looking at you from across the room. His soulful eyes watching you, head tipping to the side in deference.
"Tae's in-" It takes him a second to gather his words. "Tae's in a fucking state. She was crying so hard that Jungkook had to call them an Uber. I just told her Jimin had been stabbed and nothing else because I didn't know what to tell her."
"That's probably for the best we don't have to-" your mate starts, but Namjoon cuts him off.
"No, no more secrets. Not between any of us."
Hoseok still has a hickey from you on the side of his neck, from you earlier. Jin's fingers skim down the one on your shoulder where a mirrored mark sits knocking you out of your Hobi-induced reverie, red and bruising from his mouth. Jin raises his eyebrow at you, but now is not the time to tell him about you and hobi.
"We've got like- maybe 30 minutes until they get here."
You swallow past a lump in your throat, readying yourself for it, âbetter make it quick then,â Namjoon waits, Seokjin is silent, watching you, gaze flickering from you to Hobi every few blinks. Yoongi holds onto your knee, sliding his palm down to your hand, your wrist. Finger digging into the sensitive scent gland there and rubbing comforting circles.
You swallow hard. âWeâre all on each other's sides, right?â
âOf course,â Jin crosses his arms like he's offended you even had to ask. You bite back your retort. Namjoon nods, so does Hobi.
Your hair flops as you nod. But you still look to Yoongi to wait for permission. After a breath your mate nods and spreads his hands, giving you the floor.
If thereâs one thing you know itâs that you canât do this alone, you and Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Tae. You and Hobi. There is no separation here, not when it comes to your safety. Each of you cannot keep the rest safe on your own.
âI met Jimin a few months before I met Yoongi, IâŚYoongiâs family-â
Yoongi resists the temptation to speak for about 10 seconds when you fall silent. You can sense the moment that the truth shifts, when it explodes at Yoongiâs tongue. Unbidden but frantic and relieving like it's taken Yoongi's whole being to keep all this in.
âMy family, I've never liked calling them that. Blood means nothing to me, you guys, you guys were always my family more than them." The pack is silent but you lace your hands with his and nudge his thigh with yours, encouraging him to go on.
"My relatives run the largest network of organized crime on the East Coast, from Boston to Miami. Everything from racketeering to prostitution to production and distribution of pharmaceutical-grade opioids. cover ups, sale of illegal weapons, extorsion of political officials and blackmail. If you can think of a crime they do it. If you can think of a way to make money, they've got their hands in it. Itâs one of the reasons why I donât go home- why my parents-â
Yoongi breaks off, his voice going small and quiet. Wounds he doesnât talk about- even to you.
âThereâs maybe 200 of us now. Iâve got a lot of fucking aunts and uncles. We try to stay in our lanes, our cities, and deal only in our respective crimes. There's a lot of politics and a lot of people vying for control here and there, but only alphas are allowed to lead, omega's increases the bonds of power in other ways and beta's- You know how rare beta's are- in my family- i'm treated as second only to the family head. Being a beta offered me certain liberties. Other freedoms. Not only to avoid most of the violent stuff- but to leave and move around without asking for permission. It's like a get out of hell free card. Not everyone gets that."
You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, âYou mean they didnât exactly expect you to go about popping heirs or advancing the family business through murder and ruining innocent people's lives. not like they expected with me."
Hoseok shrivels his nose, He looks from you to Yoongi- eyebrows furrowing in confusion. âhang on i thought- Are you guys trying to say youâre fucking related or-â
âOh my god daisy-â
You splutter, âgross- No, weâre not fucking like- blood-related or anything.â You tap your chest. "I'm non family- brought in from the outside. Which means I was just about as valuable as piss to the aunts. In our world the only reason to mate or marry is for power- any other reason and your spouse is considered disposable." you cross your legs, admitting something you've kept to yourself, not a secret just a suspicion. "Geumjae never intended to keep me around forever."
Seokjin makes a strangled noise and Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, âJesus Christ.â
Hobi raises his hands bare, âSorry! Youâre not doing a good job of explaining!â
"Well, if you just gave me a minute to get to the point-" Yoongi seems to shake himself, to put himself together. âLike she said- I'm not expected to partake in the family buisness, Only alphas are allotted that 'honor'." Yoongi puts the words in quotations and adds an eye roll for good measure.
"Mainly- Iâm treated as some sort of glorified advice Column. People call and ask me things and Iâm required to answer or else theyâd hunt me down and drag me back. They bring me in to coordinate stuff because I'm a beta and I keep everyone calm and keep them from killing each other and shooting out their squabbles. I tried to keep you guys safe thatâs why I left but-â
Jinâs hand goes to yours, nodding, because he understands. âBut not why you stayed away.â
âNo. It's not.â The pack's eyes naturally stray to you.
âThe heads of houses report to the family head and she directs them to me if they need a beta's touch. Only she hasn't- the new Don hasn't asked anything of me since taking power. When the last one died- my grandparents- I left to help with the transition. But the new Don doesn't need me."
You flinch, you try to hide it but Yoongi turns, ferreting out that there's a secret there without you having to confess it. Your voice is darker than theyâve ever heard. "It's not that she doesn't need you- it's that she doesn't trust you."
Yoongi tries not to sound accusatory. "Her trust isn't something you should be after."
âItâs not- promise I just-â You pick at a stray thread on your pants.
The linoleum floor in front of you is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. "She shouldn't trust me either- and she knows it. Believe me she knows it."
Now it's Yoongi's turn to look at you. To pull himself to the edge of his chair to try and get in front of you. A wordless question that he dares not speak.
"Before you, I was already trying to do whatever I had to survive. including doing what everyone else did back in that hellhole and ask for help-"
Yoongi stands, to much energy and panic in his body to stay seated. âYou didnât." This is a fight and a confession you shouldnât have In front of the rest of them.
You look up at Yoongi, eyes beseeching. He's quiet and you make your words as measured and soft as you can. "I asked your grandparents first- and then when she told me as long as I did what she said she'd get me out I-"
âSheâs more dangerous than Geumjae, you canât have honestly been trying to trade one captor for another."
The whole pack is silent, watching the two of you. Not really understanding. But Jin- Jin pursues his lips. You don't know how he knows but he does.
Yoongiâs face goes truly white. Yoongiâs hands are shaking. Shaking until he grabs the handles of your chair, knees to the ground, bowed in front of you. Letting your silence stew for a second.
Maybe itâs a terrible thing to blame it on her, you hadnât fought not to kill. But back then it had really felt like your only way out, the only way to escape the ever-suffocating pressure of trying not to die.
âFor what itâs worth, I had no idea what they meant to you when she made me help her kill them.â
Something shifts in Yoongiâs stature, from surprise and shock to resignation so quickly you almost miss it. A tense set to his jaw but a tight-lipped understanding as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and he rests his forehead on your knees.
He's very careful in his words. Slow with them and intentional when he lifts his head and stands. You don't know if they're lies. âJust like my parents, just like all of us in the family, I knew their days were numbered anyway.â But you loved them once you want to say. Youâre not sure why you want Yoongi to be angry at you.
âI wonât apologize, not for what I had to do to survive.â
Yoongi cradles your cheek. Something dark and conflicted in his eyes.
âI know, but Iâd forgive you anyway, even if you did it out of anger.â
âAnd Jimin?â Namjoon asks, Yoongi's hand drops from your cheek. "How does he connect to all of that?"
âI met him first, I asked him.â You hesitate. This isn't your secret to tell and you don't even know all of it- like how jimin even became an assassin or started killing. you don't know his motives. It's one thing to confess your own sins, and another to talk about Jimin's to them without his say-so.
Jin darts forward, holding your hand in both of his, âWhatever we say in this room- Iâd never dream of recording. Iâm not on anyoneâs side but ours.â Jin screws his eyes shut tight, willing you and Yoongi to believe him. "Even with the FBI thing."
Namjoon whirls. He doesn't have to ask before Jin's spilling it. telling the truth.
Jin is measured with his speech, but it's his turn. No more secrets, that's what you've all agreed. "I've been working with the FBI for the last 8 years. They approached me back before we met Joonie- because of my proximity to Yoongi. First as an informant, then an agent and now the head of the task force.
"I only did it because I figured out that being a part of them was the easiest way to keep Yoongi out of jail. As long as I could reasonably assume I was the only one trusted and close enough to keep an eye on him, I could keep all the truly damning evidence out of their hands."
Jin turns to you, resisting the urge to reach out to you for his own comfort, you're looking at him like he's got three heads, but he smiles down at you, that pup-soft smile that he saves just for you when you're both nesting.
"I kept your name off of the photocopies of the recipie you used to kill them. Don't worry, no one but us knows." You look at Jin with new eyes, not a double agent but not an enemy either. Somewhere in between. Your heart pulses, and you grip his hand back.
Yoongi pulls his hands through his hair, angry, his tone grave "Well there's your reason-"
Hobi has been so quiet you've honestly almost forgotten he was there. Elbows balanced on his knees and watching the three of you on trial for Namjoon. "Answer to what."
"You don't understand Jin, you don't understand the laws of the family much less the one you've broken."
"The reason why someone's trying to kill you, if anyone finds out that Y/n killed them- everyone connected to them is fair game."
"You mean-"
"We're all done, if anyone finds out, that's probably why the new head of house was trying to take Jin out- to tie up a loose end."
"Hang on, I'm getting confused again." Hobi runs his hands through his hair, and it fluffs up. "Jimin's what again?"
âJimin is an assassin, I asked Jimin to kill my husband for me but he said no.â You pick at a strand of thread on your pants, unwilling to look up and meet any of their eyes, not Namjoonâs or Jinâs. âMet him back when we meant nothing to each other. He still feels guilty for not saving me. We talked it out a while ago. Itâs okay- I did it myself eventually- didnât need anyoneâs help.â
You look up at Yoongi and he looks like he might want to laugh or cry and can't pick which. âI donât know much else about Jimin other than that he kills for the family."
"They've got people for everything, a few assassin's they keep on retainer," Yoongi clarifies. "People that anyone can hire if you've got the money for it. There are a few names that the family puts on a no-kill list, Children, the pack mates of the ruling pack, the heads of houses and their immediate packmates. If anyone kills a person on the no-kill list- their life is forfeit. I'm on it by default. The pack mates of the beta are on it too, All of you are on it. No one should be trying to kill you."
Yoongi's never paid much attention to the list, the waxing and waning names and faces and photos. he's been on it since before he was born and with no intent to kill or harm anyone and put himself even potentially in harm's way, he's never sought it out.
Maybe if he had, things would go differently.
A cold rush of realization rushes over you. "That's why Jimin and Jin ended up there" You stand up, adrenaline in your hands. "She was hoping they'd take each other out so she wouldn't have to break family law to kill them."
Yoongi shakes his head, "Something about this doesnât feel right- something about this isnât normal.â
Hobiâs phone dings before you can hash it out anymore. He looks down in his lap. âThey're here,â heâs up and out of the chair, heading out the door and into the hall so quickly that the rest of you have to chase after him. Namjoon tugs you to your feet, staring at Yoongi and Jin. "Was that enough?" you ask.
"We'll talk more later." is all he says. But he does lace his hands with yours and pull you after Hobi. Your legs are so short you have to take two steps for every one of theirs.
âI wish Tae and Kookie were here for that-â
"They should knowâ your mate agrees, keeping pace with you in the hallway, dropping back with you when Namjoon accidentally lets go in his haste to get through the door. You make eye contact with Yoongi when you turn. Your back to one of those push doors using your body weight to push through it.
You pause, waiting with Yoongi on the other side of them.
âIf anyone tells her about Minnie- should be me.â
(You know exactly how youâll do it, youâll tell Tae the story of you just like this. Youâll tell it like a story, with author notes and playlists near the end. Youâll talk about Jimin just like this; all of the good parts and all of the bad all in one. So that she might truly understand that having a choice doesn't always mean you're free to do whats right.)
Yoongi nods, âI can tell Jungkook. I think if I do it gently, he wonât get shocked enough to have a seizure.â
You pause before the doors open, to have just a moment with the two of you, just you and him leaning against it. He shifts closer, not holding you, hands by his side but he's close enough that you could rest your head on his shoulder. You do rest your head on his shoulder. Just to hear his heartbeat thud sluggish and heaven-sent against your ear.
âIâm sorry I wasnât there.â It feels like itâs been ages and ages since youâve had a quiet moment with him like this. You resolve to have one, to make space for him when this is all over. A private date with just the two of you maybe. Whenever Jimin comes home. âTo help with Jimin.â
âItâs okay. Iâm sorry I killed your grandparents.â
âThey werenât good people,â Yoongi shrugs, you've never seen a sadder shrug. âI always knew that. They-â yoongi breaks off, stealing himself for a quiet confession. "I think they might have had a hand in killing my parent. She didn't like it- that they had so much power over me. Future of the family and all."
"You've never said-"
Yoongi pushes through the door, and a high pitched keening cuts off your next words. "Later."
You push through the door and Tae and Jungkook are already there. Entering through the outside doors with a puff of air into Namjoon and Jin's waiting arms. Namjoon holds Tae up as she wails and wails. Her cry high like a nightingale. Jungkook looks pale and shaky, settled under Hobi's shoulder clearly in shock.
You cut through them, ducking under Jin's outstretched arm and colliding with Tae before anyone else can join Namjoon in holding her. falling to little heap on the linoleum floor, just at the precipice of the long hallway that connects to the patient rooms and the nurse's stations to other surgical suites. Drawing countless stars, countless looks from passersby as Tae's sobs renew themselves, loud and broken.
You clinging to each other. Her arms around your shoulders, cradling your head like it's the last safe thing in the universe.
âJimin,â her voice breaks, throat closing around nothing. Sobs wet and angry, hot tears dripping down her cheeks, big and unabated by hope. "Minnie- My Minnie-"
You cling back, getting your hands on her cheeks. âHeâs gonna be fine, heâll be alright- here- here let me help you up. We've got you Tae-â
Jungkook looks a bit better, a little bit less like heâs drowning. Jin reaches for him while you hold onto Tae. And JKâs nostrils flare, he steps back, looking Jin up and down. Tae clings to you on the floor of the hospital and you look up at them. At Jin and Jungkook, standing a pace apart. Jungkook's hands keep Jin from coming any closer.
âYou smell like Jimin does when he comes home from his trips, you smell like gunpowder. And mucky-â Jungkook's voice breaks, "Jin? Why do you smell like blood?"
There are too many people around, too many people for something like this. You're just glad Itâs a quiet omission, Jungkookâs scent is level and so is his breath.
Maybe you should give him a lot more credit. Yoongi might not have to tell him much.
Tae's tears hit your collarbones as she crushes you, sobbing loudly in your ear, immune to the string of sweet nothings that fall from your lips. Whispered against her temple.
To everyone else in the hallway, rushing in the late-night hum, you and Tae look just the way that youâd expect; Two girls clinging to each other, one tall and the other short. One an alpha and the other an omega.
The rest of the pack is so blinded by their concern and their terror that they donât look up. They donât look down the hall to see the figure standing there watching them. One second the hallway is empty of the dark figure and then next she's there- waiting for you.
Her pine and medicine scent is disguised by the smell of death that lingers here. Although more than 2 of the people there might recognize it if they had the patience to sniff it out. They're too distracted by Yoongi dragging Jungkook close and whispering in his ear to keep his voice down.
Moonbyul watches the scene from the end of the hall. Two coffees in her hands. One for her and one for you because she always assumes that you'll go with her when she asks. No matter whatâs going on with your pack, Moonbyul is not the kind of person who you say no to. Sheâll ask nicely for you to come one more time.
Or so she thought. Looking at you and Tae holding each other is giving her other ideas.
To love a man is something she's always been able to dismiss as a mistake. Little pups just don't know what they need and even less what they want. She'd been prepared to deal with you loving them, the alphas, on paper, even the admittedly pretty omega male currently in her cousin's arms.
But another woman? Even one like that?
Rage is not like other sorts of anger, itâs not like fire burning to take. Achieng to burn until all the heat has worked itself out. Rage is quiet, rage is darkness and a hunger that needs to consume. That will destroy even if you try to stop it.
It's one thing to know that you love a woman besides her, and another to see you peck kisses along her tearstained cheeks. The rage builds as she watches you cup that female alphaâs cheeks. She watches you brush her hair back from her eyes and tuck it behind her ears. Sheâs got honeyed skin and smudged lipstick (so inelegant) you wipe her tears away and kiss her cheek.
But what makes Moonbyulâs hands tighten into claws, her metal-tipped nails piercing the coffee cups and making them drip onto the ground, wet and hot, is the way you smile at her.
Moonbyulâs rage is like a tidal wave.
By the time the rest of the pack looks up, the hallway is empty except for a puddle of coffee on the linoleum floor and two discarded cups. One with red lipstick stains and the other without.
~-~
(18 hours later, Jimin)
Taeâs cheek is so soft. Thatâs the first thing that Jiminâs aware of as he wakes from surgery.
Coming out of general anesthesia feels like being a rickety buoy on the busy ocean. One second bobbing to the surface and the next crashing below the waves and taking on water. Sloshy. Everything feels sloshy.
He only feels her at first- not the hospital bed, not the scratchy sheets, Just the feeling of her cheek resting against the palm of his hand. Her gentle breath tickling his fingers in her sleep.
Jimin will always know the particular beat and cadence of Taeâs body. Would know it if the sun got snuffed out like a candle. Would know her breath anywhere because itâs the very fuel to Jiminâs soul, the very thing that sets the tempo to the heart monitor beating out a pleasant rhythm in the midafternoon hum.
Her skin is pillowy and sweet beneath Jiminâs flayed fingers, limp and cold to the touch because of the whole almost bleeding out thing. He doesnât know it yet, but he's needed 9 units of blood in the past 24 hours. 4 right away, and 3 during the surgery where they removed the knife and stitched his arm together. And another two units just after.
Compared to his own body, Tae feels so warm.
At least Jimin can still feel his left hand. The doctors that stitched him back together must have done a bang-up job, Namjoon even more so. a lot of people can put an arm back together, a whole slew of them, but not many surgeons could stab someone carefully enough so as to not permanently injure them. There are only so many people that he would trust to stab him.
But Jimin trusts Namjoon with a whole lot more than just that.
When he opens his eyes (a task of herculean proportions) Namjoon isnât there, itâs just Tae in one of those absurdly uncomfortable hospital chairs. Sheâs bent over his hospital bed in what must surely be an uncomfortable position to sleep in. Her back arched like invisible wings weigh her down. She slept like that, sprawled as close as she could get to Jimin without the nurses waking her up and telling her not to crowd him.
The smudged mascara on her cheeks flake like falling stars, little trails there were tears rendered it useless. Jimin wipes away a black droplet like he's banishing a ghost. Sheâs cried so much over the last 10 hours, most of her makeup gone and sporting a bit of 5 oâclock shadow too. The faint roughness that Jimin feels no more than once. Because to derive sensory pleasure from that feelsâŚwrong.
He looks at the ceiling, wondering where the others are. He feels the edge of his body, the spot where the wound begins and the pain ends. Who knew gunshots and stab wounds could make you feel so sore? and tired too? Exhaustion pins his body to the bed like a butterfly to a corkboard.
A wire connected to his good hand tugs, But he ignores it in favor of cradling Tae's head and combing through the tangles in her hair. It's gotten so long now, just to her shoulders, but the bits feel so soft and gauzy against his fingertips. He wishes he could feel it forever. Itâs much much better than the 5 oâclock shadow.
It takes a dozen passes for Tae to stir.
And then she startles awake, flinching into being. Fresh tears disrupt the mascara flecks as she beholds her soulmate and nearly tugs herself across his bed to get her hands on his face. To hold his cheeks.
To say that Tae has looked better would be accurate for jimin to say but the words would never grace Jiminâs lips. Not even close. Even with a crusty face and greasy hair- Tae looks gorgeous- so pretty that his heart pulses dangerously quickly. so quickly that jimin's suprised the nurses don't come by and check on him.
Maybe they havenât given him enough opioids for his shoulder because for a second he feels his heartbeat ricochet through his whole body. To his fingers where he's touching her and back to his heart. Every echo and ripple Tae Tae Tae.
Tae bends over Jiminâs body. Her hands go to his face, fingers touching his smile, and thumbs pressed to his faint crow's feet and twinkling eyes. Clutching at him like heâs her lifeline (he is, a red string of fate that keeps her from drowning, always. She was stupid not to use it like an anchor).
âPup told me.â She says, a note of finality in her voice, lower lip trembling, tears falling anew âtold me you kept talking about me even when you were stabbed" she goes quiet, whispering the words like she's scared someone might be listening in.
"Pup told me everything."
Jiminâs eyes flick from her lips to her face, her body, everything. His hands are trembling, chest building with breaths until theyâre heaving and the realization of just how much everything she must know hits him.
Tae knows Jimin well enough to know what a panic attack looks like- knows enough how to soothe it. Knows just to hold on and wait for it to pass. jimin's hands splay and flex, rubbing her skin once, twice, and then a third time in an effort to self-soothe.
"It's okay,"
"You mean you're not-" Jimin's heart monitor is going so wild that Tae has to tell him to calm down. Has to run her fingers up and down his scent glands on his neck, nipping at them to settle him. "You're not angry that I'm-"
That I'm a killer, that I'm a monster. That I've kept everything from you. Jimin readies himself, preparing himself for the speech he always knew he'd have to give. You don't understand, I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this- I didn't I just. I never killed people who didn't deserve it- because I know that you'd hate that.
For the first time in their lives, Tae and Jimin are sitting across from each other- without a single secret to each of their consciousness. both of them free and perilously unmoored for it.
But there are no words that Tae needs when she looks up at him and smiles. Wetness at the corner of her eyes.
Seeing Jimin in the hospital bed had not felt like Patroclus and Achilles, it hadn't even felt like Orpheus and Eurydice. There was no roaring anguish. The kind that follows when people leave you too soon. Or the bitter vindication that happens when people leave at just the right time (itâs the worst when people leave like that. Either linger or make me miss you. Stay too long or leave me early. Either way is fine. Iâll feel more human if Iâve got longing or hatred to feel).
In truth seeing Jimin in the hospital bed, wires and hooks connected to him- keeping him alive and keeping him breathing, had felt like a second chance. She's not going to let something as simple as a secret spoil it.
Tae knows she should want to know more about Jimin's job as an assassin and should want to ask more questions (if not to understand her soulmate better, than for writing material). She Should be more revolted or disturbed or upset that her literal soulmate kills people for a living, but at the moment, all she can find in herself is just to be glad that Jimin is fucking alive.
Itâs funny, how much your priorities can shift.
Jimin looks like he doesn't believe her. "Tae, you can't even kill spiders."
"Would you care?" Jimin falls silent. "Would you care if it was me in your position?"
Jimin swallows hard and winces. He doesnât have to ask for a sip of water, because Tae has already gotten it for him by the time his good hand closes over his throat. His shoulder is bound so tightly in bandages that he can hardly shift it. Can't reach up to stop himself from spilling a bit of the water down his chin. Her nails (red polished and chipped) wipe away a drop on his lips.
(There's more that you weren't able to tell her just yet; a lot about you and Yoongi and Jin. You've decided to save the bulk of how Jimin ended up in the hospital bed until after Jimin woke up. Later when you can get her on her own you'll tell her. Probably after Jimin's discharged from the hospital. But the other secrets can wait for now).
It wonât really hit her until later. When sheâs in her closet looking at all of her pretty things and designer clothes. Fingers toeing along the fine black cashmere sweaters, to the maroon dresses, to the scarlet ones, stopping just before she reaches the pink. The Dior, the Versache, the McQueen. It will only be then that she'll put two and two together and realize they were all paid for with blood money. With peopleâs lives.
It will bother her then; it doesnât bother her right now. It will never bother her enough to think about leaving jimin.
How do you make the choice? What to condemn a loved one for? How do you pin down your line of intolerance when it's someone you love with your whole being? Can you decide at all or is it something that your soul chooses for you? The weight of one sin for another. what you're willing to go through.
They would have died anyway. Even if Jimin hadn't killed them, they had someone out there willing enough to pay for their death and they'd have died anyway she rationalizes. We're all going to die anyway.
Maybe itâs a silver lining that Tae no longer believes in the same kind of sin and wrongness that Jimin does. Doesnât believe in God and heaven at all. Tae has always believed in soulmates more and believed in Jimin the most. More than any god or afterlife.
âI should be angry, anyone else probably would be but-â Tae turns her cheek into Jiminâs fingers, pressing her lips to his trigger finger. Eyes shining when she looks at him. âIâve wasted too much of my life being angry at you, wasted too much of it feeling anything but love for you- Jimin- if you died, I-â
Jimin cradles Tae's cheek. âIâm sorry for Namjoonâs rut- for what I said. Didnât mean it. Never mean it if I'm mean-â Jiminâs finger rubs across Taeâs lips, the wide part of his palm splayed across her jaw, and so much is said in that little touch. But they look at each other and laugh. "Not like Noodle."
It shocks a laugh out of Tae and she presses her temple to Jimin's jaw, feels his smile when the joint moves. She realizes that Jimin's still a little high. Probably too doped up on pain medicine to have this conversation but oh well.
âI never thought it would take you getting stabbed for me to realize it,â her lip trembles, âI donât want to waste another second being angry with you.â
âI donât want to waste another second with you either. Won't even sleep,â his eyelashes flutter, struggling to stay awake.
Tae pulls herself more firmly on top of the bed and Jimin shifts a little, wakes a little more when she slings a leg carefully over his hips. Being gentle, still conscious of his physical state. He uses his good arm to pull her up and up until Sheâs splayed across his lap.
Kissing Tae never loses its edge, it always feels like their first kiss, sweet and with that knotted bundle of anticipation. Jimin sits up into the kiss, sits up until his shoulder protests and he hisses into the kiss. "Don't strain yourself minnie-"
"Don't care just-" he pulls her hips snugly. After that words are sparse as they kiss, again and again, lips working together. Sloppy messy love kisses. Every breath tastes like love, every second of it. She giggles pulling apart for a second to get her breath, the heartbeat monitors in the corner going wild. Breath that washes over Jimin like a gust of spring air, cinnamon flower sweat, and heady. Taeâs kisses are better than a first sip of coffee or a breath of fresh air. (Theyâre better than living, just a little bit).
âIf I was any less sore, Iâd ask you to bite me right now.â
Tae grins, and itâs a special secret smile. âYou said something like that to Pup too."
âIâm so lucky I get to be yours- don't want to waste the luck-" Tae shakes her head stubbornly pulling back.
"I donât think that you should say youâre lucky. Iâm so lucky that this person loved me, or Iâm so lucky that I got to love them. Because when it comes down to it, love and luck are not the same thing. Love is not a single event, like winning the lottery, or finding a 100-dollar bill. Love is a choice and you have to choose it a thousand times. Every day you choose it. Luck is such a cop-out. Itâs been really nice.â
âGod, I hope Iâm more than just nice.â
Tae smiles, âShut upâ She goes a little pale. âActually donât shut up with me like- ever. I guess thatâs what Iâm trying to say.â She plays with Jiminâs hands, âIs that when either of us- whoever- goes first-â Jiminâs grip goes knuckle tight on her waist, he's coming out of it, a little more lucid with every breath. Waking up more.
âWhen one of us dies- I donât want to question if I ever loved you enough, I don't want to rely on just luck. I donât want to think about the days that I could have gone for coffee with you or could have kissed you longer. I donât want to think that I didnât get exactly what I wanted and you didnât get exactly what you wanted too.
"I want to give you one extra kiss every time so that you get twice as much as you would have gotten otherwise. I just want to think that it was nice, that every moment of it was nice- even when we fought, I want to look back on it and think âeven the sad parts were nice and I got more than I thought I would.' No luck involved.â
She grins down at him, that same youthful grin sheâs had her whole life, Jimin thinks of it sometimes- how many times sheâs smiled this way and he hasnât seen. How many more he will see.
âAlso, y/n says that youâre allowed to mate me, but not marry me. She says my ring finger belongs to her.â
Jimin slides up the bed, flipping her over, supporting himself with his good hand, sending her sprawling and giggling. His growl is half hearted but promising. Tae laces her hand in his greasy blonde hair and it stays there.
It stays there.
~-~
The rest of Jiminâs hospital stay goes a bit like this:
There is a pair of suits outside the window, dark and imposing. plain clothes police officers watching and waiting like vultures. Theyâve already taken statements from the pack but demand to hear from Park Jimin himself.
Lies from the source always taste the sweetest.
There is a story ironed out and penned in stolen moments, you curled up in one packmate's lap and transferred to another, "the pup" Jin had said, the youngest, was not taking her alpha's stabbing well. "She just needs a bit of soothing, sorry." The suits are charmed enough by two cuddling omega's that they don't notice your mouth pressed to their ears, like a game of cuddly murderous telephone.
The story gets ironed out easily, youâd all gone out for pizza, had come home to find Jimin bleeding in your kitchen.
âItâs pretty normal for Jimin to be reckless with his health. Iâm not surprised he tried to come home and see if I could stitch him up himself. I'm a doctor at his hospital- Dr. Kim, pack alpha and head of neurosurgery. The knife- you should know I touched it on accident he wanted to remove it himself and I just had to stop him- Iâm sorry- I should have known better I was just- so shaken.â Namjoon is a passable liar at best.
Jungkook has folded himself under your mateâs arm, and Jinâs too. Heâs still vaguely shaking, bunny eyes wider than usual. In a little bit, Namjoon will drag him over to an empty exam room for a quick check-up. Just to make sure he isn't about to seize on the floor. Yoongi will go with him, Will tell him the truth about all of this then.
But what, with his comment earlier, you wouldn't be surprised if Jungkook has already figured it out on his own.
Jimin doesnât even need to be coached into remembering it. The police donât even think of not letting the pack see him, after seeing Taeâs teary eyes. A pretty girl is the best distraction, and the pack has two pretty girls that smell sour and need to tend to their alpha before the police get a chance too.
Theyâre impatient as they watch you and Tae fold yourself over Jiminâs barely aware body, more preoccupied with looking at your asses than they donât see your lips moving against Jiminâs ear, mistaking your shaking for the racking sobs. And your quiet words for sweet nothings.
Hobi had barely leashed a growl, and resisted the urge to step in front of you and block you both from their sight.
The story is so easy and simple- a true case of Ockhamâs razor. The simplest story with the least details is the most likely to be believed. the story Jimin tells the police goes like this;
Earlier yesterday, a crazy fan of the idol group he guards that must have followed him from his schedule with intent to learn his schedule and get closer to them. Her description is so ordinary that theyâll never find her because she doesnât exist. Any person found will easily be made inculpable; either by alibi or honesty. Not that the law cares much about honesty, nor that any of you care about possibly implicating a stranger.
Love always did make people go to extremes, it's easily believable.
Nothing else matters. Besides keeping everyone safe. You're united against this.
Once they're gone, other promises get made:
âI want you to quit, this is too dangerous, if something like this happens to you again, I donât know if Iâll be able to handle it.â
âWe need to make sure we travel in pairs until we figure out whatâs going on, why they're targeting Jimin and Jin.â
âI can ask some of my contacts-â
âYouâll do no such thing Yoongi.â
âDo you think we should be like- Armed? Just in case?â
âI donât think more guns will solve anything butâŚMaybe.â
In a stolen moment, Namjoon corners you outside Jimin's hospital bedroom, he's holding three bags of takeout, not that Jimin will really be able to eat much of it. The opioids keep down his appetite. That doesn't meant the pack won't try to fuss. As it is, Jimin hasn't been interested in anything but kissing Tae and holding her hand. Pouting whenever the nurses make tae leave.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," Namjoon has always found apologies easy and has never had so much of an ego that it would get in the way of any of it.
"It's alright, between you and me, I think it was kind of justified." You'd probably yell at all of them if they convinced you to stab Yoongi or tae or any of them.
"No more secrets, okay? Promise me this is the last one." It's easy to promise Namjoon that, so easy. To let him scent you, rubbing his coffee liquor scent all over your shoulder.
(But it's not about the promises that you make, it's about the ones that you break.)
You sit out in the hallway the following morning, still in the same clothes and starting to feel a little bit filthy because of it. None of you have gone home yet. Hobi sits next to you and Jungkook's on the other side.
Theyâre just checking Jiminâs stitches again, and his hospital room just got a bit crowded. The prospect of checkout is maybe a day away. Tonight is the last you'll have to spend at the hospital.
It was also time to talk over Jiminâs opioid regimen, and the doctor had been nearly delighted when Namjoon had stepped up and taken the lead, reassuring the doctor under no uncertain terms that Namjoon would manage them. You can forgive him for thinking a little too much with his hindbrain. If Namjoon leaned any more into his instincts you'd be worried he was close to going into a rut again.
âIs this what itâs like when Iâm in the hospital?â Jungkook asks, sucking on some skittles. It's more sugar than he should be allowed to have especially during a high-stress situation. But Jungkookâs taking the panic to get a little bit of freedom. You cast a glance at Tae, at Yoongi and Jin, standing by the door looking like heâs about ready to twitch out of his skin with the effort it's taking him to stand outside.
Jin had apologized- him and Namjoon both, and Jimin had accepted it instantly. "If I trust anyone to shoot and stab me- it's you two so-"
"But-" they'd argued, but eventually Jimin had turned a little scary, a little threatening. showing a hint maybe- of a persona they're all unused to but you're not. Jimin can be firm when he needs to be. A quick retort of-
"Forcing me to comfort you over something I'm not upset about is not the way to make me forgive you." Shut them up for good (or at least for now).
âYeah, pretty much.â You hold out your hand for some skittles and he gives you a few. Hobi grimaces and reaches over to take the orange ones out of your palm. He knows you donât like those. He replaces them with a few green ones.
"Itâs fucking boring. I should get you guys like- a DS or something for Christmas.â
âDonât tell Minnie or heâll blow all his money on-â You cringe at your words and Hobi flinches. Jungkook just chews on his candies, they smack against his teeth with a hard clinking sound.
There is still some of Jimin's blood under Hobi's fingernails. You see it when he reaches over to take your Skittles.
The next time Hobi moves to take your Skittles, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "Come on."
You lead Hoseok into the women's bathroom, underneath the curious eye of the nurses, all the stalls are empty so you pull him over to the counter.
âYouâve got some- stuff- under your nails- let me.â You rip a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them. You clean Hobiâs hands diligently and he lets you.
He stays quiet, Hobi's been quiet for the last day or so. He hasn't done more than whisper a few quiet words to Jimin and stay close. He didn't say anything during your secret confession yesterday. Didn't ask a single question and the silence bleeds now as you scrub the clean-smelling soap against his skin. Your anxiety builds, and you scrub a little harder. His fingers remain limp in your touch.
âSay something- say anything okay? I need to know that youâre not-â not angry with me. That you don't hate me- that you still love-.
Hobi pulls you against his shoulder in a single clean movement. His wet hands hit your stomach when he grabs your hips. Your nose brushing his throat, his nose skimming your hairline.
âIâm trying not to take too much energy from Jimin- trying not to- be a mess- because he's the only one who deserves the packs attention. I'm not even sure if I am a mess about it. Sure that sucked but-" he sighs, "you and I are kinda like- uniquely able to handle things like this cuz of-" he doesn't need to finish his sentence. Hoseok's lips brush your ear, lips touching your skin, and- he pulls back, smiling softly. It's a tired smile but there it is- soft and special and just for you.
âYouâre taking things, remarkably well considering the last time weâŚâ
âThe last time we had to deal with something like this?â
You hum, scrubbing a paper towel hard over the ends of Hobi's hands. The white paper goes orange-red with dried blood. "Give it time. Thereâs still a few weeks for me to go crazy this time.â
But this time, you have a feeling that it will be different. Although Hobi was there the last time- and played an instrumental role in making sure you didn't literally fall apart. It's different now. Right now, your hands tangle on the counter, holding on, even though you try to clean his hands of blood. Holding on is more important, neither of you tries and pull away. You don't have the energy for shyness.
What's more intimate? Sex or murder?
He huffs a small frustrated sound and stoops to rest his forehead against your shoulder, leaning almost all of his weight on you. You take it.
âMaybe this time Iâll take a crack at going crazy.â You laugh, stopping your brushing and just settling for holding him. Hips resting against the counter. The two of you rest, just for a moment.
Your nose against the side of his face where his undercut presses to your skin, spiky. "Still have that train ticket?" Hobi humms, taking a deep greedy breath of your scent to steady himself.
You're not expecting him to pull back and kiss you, but his lips are dry but warm, faintly chapped but yours are too. Pressing soft but demanding against yours. Hobi kisses you just as sweetly as last time and you grip the front of his jacket.
No sooner has he heaved you up on the counter, fingers hooking under your thighs to kiss you stronger- than is the door clanging open and a nurse comes barreling in.
"Ugh- uhm." She's a little stunned, but you're already hopping down, faces flushed and apologizing for the inconvenience.
You donât throw the bloody paper towels in the garbage, but the toilet, flushing them once, then twice, to make sure that theyâre down. Mumbling one last apology before you exit the bathroom together.
Hobi doesn't let go of your hand. You wonder if this is what loving him is going to be like; making out in places you shouldn't, special secret stolen glances when you keep holding hands even around the pack and keep stealing kisses.
You wonder if the kissing will stretch to the cars- to the late night drives, if he'll hold your hand like this around every hairpin turn. If Hobi's going to make you a make out playlist later, full of songs that make him think of you, songs that match the cadence and pitch of your heart. You wonder if loving him will be like this, stolen innocence, like finding sea glass on the beach. There and pretty for the taking if you only look for it.
Your heart feels all warm and tight with it, swaddled. Protected as Hobi tugs you back into Jimin's hospital room. You can't wait to find out.
The next few hours look like this; Namjoon sitting on the foot of the bed his hand on Jiminâs knee, feasting on hospital food. Jungkook giggles, and nearly throws himself across Jiminâs lap so that the alpha can put his hands through his hair. Looks like more takeout, living off of it because no one wants hospital food and you can't go home and cook. You refuse to leave right now.
It looks like Tae smiling for the first time In what feels like years but has logically been only a few hours. Rubbing a hand across her jaw and wincing when she feels the stubble.
Her wince quiets the sounds of the pack happy. And you look up from your plate.
âWhatâs wrong?â You ask, always stupidly attuned to her and her needs, always watching and waiting.
âI need to freaking shave and I just- I havenât had the chance to.â Tae lets out a tired sigh, the kind of deep frustration that comes with things that you have no choice but to do.
You take her hand from her chair and tug her up. Because this- this source of angst can be fixed.
âHere- come on,â A shaving razor gets found for her, Namjoon goes to the surgical ward to get the right kind. Sharp and medical and disposable along with a tiny tube of shaving gel. You drag her chair into the bathroom and make her sit while you do it. Lathering up her cheeks and tipping her head back. The whole pack a cacophony in the other room. The shock of skittles and other candies falling onto the floor. Muted words then soft laughter.
You drag the shaving razor up her chin, over her chubby cheeks. Your gentle touch, the soft scrapping of her hair against the blade a gentle accompaniment to the sounds of the pack passing the time until Jimin wants to go to sleep. Jungkook's phone plays a tictok loud, "Bunny- headphones, Minnie's trying to rest" Yoongi reminds him.
Jimin is struggling not to fall asleep, shifting to one side of the hospital bed just to get a better vantage point to look into the bathroom at Tae. Jimin cranes his neck.
Tae's face twitches, and underneath the white froth you see her reddening cheeks. âStop looking at me.â
Jimin grins from the hospital bed, âCanât help it, love you.â
âLove you too Minnieâ She choruses back, and the pack joins her.
that night, namjoon and yoongi push three hospital cots togeather around jimin's bed and the pack piles in, sweet bodies and kissed cheaks, whiped down with sanitary towels, you end up tucked between tae and hobi, your cheek pressed to her back.
the following morning it becomes impossible to ignore both how purely filthy the 8 of you are and the fact that Jimin's doctors won't let him check out until tomorrow (and even then he'll have days of bedrest and won't be able to use his arm until he gets his stitches out.) You haven't been home in two days, no one can remember if you even locked the front door with how crazy leaving was.
Itâs hard to convince Tae to go with you and leave Jimin's side. But she's less resistant when Yoongi reminds her that Jimin needs new clothes to go home in since all of his bloodstained clothing was discarded as medical waste.
âHonestly we should get like- to go bags full of a change of clothes for all of us when like, JK has his seizures,â Maybe itâs just because youâve done overnights twice in the last week at the hospital- but the idea doesnât seem like a bad one.
Jin drives you, Hobi, and Tae home in silence; no one tells Tae any of the other secrets yet. Tired as she is, almost falling asleep in the car. Waking with a start when you turn onto your street.
It's a little shocking. When you get home to a cold and quiet house. Jimin's blood has dried up into dark waxy puddles, on the kitchen table and the floor. There are fingerprints from someone, rusty and red on the doorframe. It's stark to see the evidence. To see a bit of it on the butcher block countertop all the terror and the color leached out of it in the grey afternoon light.
Tae is so stumbly that Hobi has to grab her twice just to keep her from walking into walls when he gets her inside. Noodles immediately yowl has you feeling terribly guilty, he circles your and Hobi's ankles. But you push at Hoseok's hands when he stoops to pick him up.
"Take Tae upstairs and shower with her, will you? I'll be up in a second, just gonna feed him and get some stuff together." She's blinking and looking at the bloodstains, eyes already looking glassy with fresh tears.
You need a second, a second in quiet, a second alone just to steady yourself. Jin comes in, dragging in a mountain of mail from your box, "I've got them, come on pups, grooming time."
Jin pecks a kiss along your forehead, "Come up the second you finish?"
You nod, "Just want to get some food first too- hungry."
Jin nods and makes to follow Hobi and Tae but pauses on the stairs. he looks like he wants to say something to you. Eyes full of something unreadable and warm. Unspoken words hover.
If he had to choose anyone, I'm glad he chose you.
But before he can get it out Tae calls from upstairs. "Jinnie? Can you grab one of my comfy sets from the closet down there before you come up?"
You stand, solemn in the kitchen, listening to the sound of them on the creaky stairs, the sound of their quiet voices. The creek of the house as they walk around upstairs.
"Here you go baby," you say, giving Noodles an extra spoonful of food. You know you left enough for him in his bowl and that he didn't suffer too badly. But still, his purring chirping is music to your ears. You pet over his back, his fluffy tail.
He's Still chubby, still good. You aren't too bad of a pet owner then.
There's the gun still there, sitting just to the left of Jimin's blood splatter on the seat of one of the dining room chairs. You're at eye level with it from where you crouch down to pet Noodle. It's the same one that you pulled out from under the bed when you found out he'd been shot. You should probably take it with you when you go back to the hospital, just to be sure.
"You got any secrets for me nu? Are you the long-lost prince of some cat kingdom?" Noodle chops down in response.
You go to the hallway closet to get a duffel bag, where the pack stores their larger bags and luggage.
"Hey!" Hobi calls from upstairs, muffled through the roar of the shower. There isn't much other noise in the house. The birds outside aren't chirping, probably because you haven't been home enough to fill their birdfeeder.
Probably.
"Yeah!?" You call back up, upending the duffel bag and sending a bit of loose change, some quarters and pennies scattering onto the floor. you stoop down to pick up a few of them, tossing them back into the closet with a metallic clang (to be dealt with later.)
âCan you grab Tae's phone charger? It should be by her computer.â
"Got it!" Tae's library room is much the same as it was when you left it, her computer is closed. The walls are green, the window dusty. You find it easily, the cord long and white, tangling in your hands.
You're not sure why your hair raises on the back of your neck.
Noodle stops his chomping.
The push of cold air startles you- the change of pressure in the house like a door being opened- the front door. The windows in the library room are leaky. You're used to being in here and feeling it, used to feeling that same draft every time one of your pack mates comes home.
You freeze where you stand.
The metallic jingle of the doorknob is so much softer than usual. You could almost convince yourself that you don't hear it, that you've made it up.
And then you hear it- Noodle's low hiss.
Call it a habit or a trained behavior but you still make your footsteps quiet everywhere you go. A thing learned from your years with Geumjae when you needed to be quiet to be safe and needed to make yourself as unobtrusive as possible to avoid pain. A vestigial survival instinct.
It serves you well now because no one in the house hears as you slide from Taeâs library through the pantry area, you donât call out Taeâs name again, or Hobiâs. You donât know exactly why you donât.
Your house is an old house and you know every inch of it. You know this house that Yoongiâs built for you from the top of the eves to the shutters, from the windows up top to the ground floor and dusty half-finished basement. You know every creaky floorboard and which steps are the ones you skip when someoneâs sleeping upstairs because it always sounds so high-pitched and it wakes Jimin up, light sleeper that he is.
You hear the subtle creek of the floorboards now, the small slide of heavy boots across the wide floorboards. A creak. Someone is about to ascend the stairs, up to where you can still hear Hobi and Tae talking softly. The shower off, they're probably just getting dressed.
Softly, you hear the sound of a heavy boot hitting something metallic, one of the pennies you dropped earlier and missed.
Jin might still be in the other room, that's what you tell yourself. You're just being paranoid. stupid paranoia you almost want to laugh. you're just jumpy from the last few days- that's all. Funny of you, to make it up.
The danger is all in your head.
Only it's not,
Because the first thing you see when you peek around the corner is the pitch-dark barrel of an extended gun.
~-~
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Notes:
There are some parts in this chapter, some facts about yoongi's family that haven't been touched on since the very begining chapters or jimin's secret chapters and i repeated them just so that people get a bit of a refresher but some of it feels a little monotonous to write! i hope it's not too hard to get through.
in an ideal world i would have given myself an additional week to edit this chapter, it's not the most edited and because of that i feel like it got repetitive or arduous in places.
i'm also realizing that this is like, 9th longest bts fanfic in existence. look it up on ao3 if you don't believe me. i think giving people a refresher of the begining is fair. In terms of the harry potter series (it really is a shame that no one knows who wrote it) we're just into the 6th book in terms of word count if you need that for context.
on that same vein. moonbyuls brief rant that is implied to be transphobic and sorta is- is not a reflection of my views she's just...you know...the villain?
this chapter also literally went from 8k to 14k during editing what the fuck. i stayed up till 2 am to get this done two nights in a row. i have this little nagging voice in my head that says its stupid to care about something like this but i can't help it- i love this story so much. even if this isn't the best chapter.
when the m/c has her freak out in the room where she almost passes out- that is called adrenal fatigue and it's soemthing that i struggle with as someone with ptsd. you know the feeling when you go on a rollercoaster when all of your adrenaline unloads it's self all at once? if i go through that my body goes a little haywire like- dizziness, exhaustion, dysregulation, memory fog, all of it. i still like rollercoasters though so as long i like rest and drink alot of water it doesn't affect me too much.
it's really important that you notice that no one says moonbyuls name during the moment when they're talking about their secrets between namjoon, jin, hobi, yoongi, and the m/c. i'm not telling you why just PAY ATTENTION.
Every time i think about the proverb "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth." i think of the m/c and how thats her storyline with the family like- she really was like "either you love me or i'll kill all of you" and i think thats cute <3
In terms of why the last don and Beta killed Yoongi's parents- i think it's because yoongi's mother found out that she was pregnant with another beta and the don and beta didn't want to deal with such a divided power. They already had yoongi under their thumb and another possible successor would have over complicated things. Yoongi would have had a little sister, i don't know if he'll ever know thats why his parents where killed- he was between the ages of 16 and 18 when they died.
although this chapter was the least edited in terms of the most recent chapters- i will also say that there are two moments in this chapter- where i 'fuck up' and write things a certian way but heres the thing- they're not fuck ups and they're actually hints so! lets see if anyone notices!!
i'm gonna be honest with you guys the part where it goes "it stays there" left me fucking winded i can't even think about it too hard or else i get misty eyed.
i am catheterizing a lot of emotions writing this i am sorry it took so long to write, there is a reason why this update took a month and thats cuz yeah- my grandmother is dying. She's got cancer and She's 91 so they're not treating it. death is gonna be a /theme/ for me over the next couple of chapters, don't be surprised if I go off on a tangent or if it takes me a second between updates.
i wish i could write the m/c just a little dumber you know?
i wrote this series with the intent to write about people in realistic relationships- showing the moments they make mistakes, the moments they react too much or not enough, the way that trauma affects us all and how we handle it and love. it feels very full circle to have this chapter come out like- this is what bily is about you know? even though they'res alot of dialouge in it.
oh~ shits about to go down~
Mini-Playlist
Dominic fike- acai bowl (kinda hobi and the m/c's song for this chapter, they're going through it)
Hozier- Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) (this is literally bily's unoffical theme song at this point)
JID, Kenny Mason - Dance now (the beginning when moonbyul setting the industrial park on fire)
Frank sinatra- thats life (the song i picture playing at the end when tae and jimin are talking out their issues).
#bts omegaverse au#bts a/b/o#bts x reader#bts poly au#bts gang au#bts mafia au#bts polyamory au#bts au#bts fluff#bts hurt/comfort#bts werewolf au#bts angst bts omegaverse fic#bts hybrid fic#min yoongi fic#kim namjoon fic#kim seokjin fic#kim taehyung fic#park jimin fic#jeon jungkook fic#jjk#pjm#myg#knj#kth#ksj#jhs#jung hoseok fic#min yoongi x reader#kim namjoon x reader#kim seokjin x reader
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hi! would it be alright if i asked what your favorite namjoon fics are? thank you and have a great day đđĽš
hello nonnie, it is always okay to ask me for fic recs! <3
most of these works contain mature themes/content. please heed tags and do not engage with any explicit work if you are a minor!
i know there are a bunch i've forgotten, so please reblog and share your own work and your faves!
also, please note: there are a lot of fics on these lists that are posted to ao3. it has recently come out that a volunteer was removed from their position for being pro-palestine (you can find the twt thread here). i am in the process of looking for a better alternative, but until then, it is unfortunately probably the best way to share these stories. while i personally won't be posting to or reading on ao3 for the time being, how you choose to engage going forward is completely up to you! i just wanted to make sure i was being transparent.
namjoon x reader
anything by @effortandmore
anything by @hamsterclaw
anything by @miscelunaaa
1-year anniversary by @johobi
omerta by @anotherbtswriter
hammer it home series by @gukslut
hey, it's me & leave no trace behind by @yoongiphoria
love bytes by @stutterfly
real magic & park and ride by @here2bbtstrash
house of cards & guilty by @xjoonchildx
lacuna by @eoieopda
dream team by @bangtanintotheroom (feat. hobi)
cyanide on my bedsheets by @jimilter
laundry day by @snackhobi
bloom by @hobidreams
the snow globe effect by @gukyi
you've got a friend in me by @wwilloww
pronoia by @junghelioseok
limbo by @beahae
love hard by @raplinesmoon
swiss miss by @here4kpopfics (feat. seokjin)
my feet to follow, and my heart to hold by @daechwitatamic
a fine line by @moni-logues
roommates with benefits
as always, mxm fics under the cut!
member x member
softer than steel (namseok)
frustrations in late foucault (namseok)
the universe needs more you (namseok)
in your atmosphere (namseok)
why don't you figure (my heart) out (namseok)
i'm on fire (rap line)
delta (rap line)
ę˝ę˝ě´. kkotkkoji (namjin)
you have 1 new message (namjin)
beta tau sigma (namjin)
white rabbit (namjin)
local dumbass idiot helps sexy criminal and then writes sad bird poems instead of just saying Yes Seokjin I Like You Too (namjin)
easy (namjin)
and they were roommates (namjin)
burn me like an ember (namjin)
the understood boundaries of self (namjin)
more walls (collected along the way) [namjin]
imprints & magnitude (namjin)
salt water (namjinkook)
disgruntledofficebrat [active] (namkook)
you can leave the cape on (namkook)
108 degrees (namkook)
the whole of the moon (namkook)
travelogue with a frat boy (namkook)
it's a color that i can't describe (namkook)
how much to give and how much to take (namkook)
the courage of stars (namkook)
come take it (if you want a piece of me) [namkook]
a feel so sweet (namgikook)
objects in mirror are closer than they appear (namgi)
green carnation (namgi)
the added bonus (namgi)
tear you apart (namgi)
different when i'm with you (namgi)
adrift (namgi)
i'll fuck you if you let me, baby (namgi)
sleepless in (namgi)
ćăŽäşć (namgi)
take it or leave it (namgi)
baby, but we will (namgi)
verified amateurs [online now] (namgi)
cyrano more like cyraNO (namgi)
record it for later (namgi)
into the red morning (taejoon)
don't call it love (taejoon)
i am red with love (taejoon)
the bad thing (minimoni)
you were more than just light (minimoni)
wish we'd fall in love (minimoni)
but i want it anyway (minimoni)
#namjoon x reader#namjoon smut#namjoon imagine#namjoon scenarios#namjoon fanfic#namjoon fic recs#fic rec
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18+ minors dni
happy halloweekend! heard you're goin' to a frat party, sweet thing. whose got your eyes?
or⌠stereotypical slutty boy costumes & which one of your favs is wearing it!
ktober m.list
tags: fem reader, penetrative sex, alcohol, mentions of frats, lap dancing
JAIL INMATE
easy, lazy boy costume but sure enough to get bitches.
he might throw some fake blood dripping down his lip, drawn-on stitches, and a teardrop under his eye with the help of a makeup crayon from the halloween store he got with his friends. and if heâs feeling really slutty, he either bought some tattoo kisses to stick on his collarbone or asked you to use some red lipstick, pointing to the spots he wants you to kiss that leave dramatic color.
heâs unzipping it partially, with no white tank top underneath like some other guys who are wearing the same costume, wanting to show as much skin as possible, without showing too much. convinces you to be a cop, easy excuse to buy handcuffs; for you or him? he doesn't care, as long as they get used by the end of the night.
too many shots, sweaty kisses, and enough grinding that your boy has a full hard-on and he's throwing you on the bed of an empty room. taking the cuffs out of your pocket with a nasty smirk as he crawls towards you.
"i've been a real bad boy, officer."
SUNA, JASON, yuuji, AKI, iwaizumi, OSAMU, MATTSUN, semi, kenma, SAKUSA, geto, INUMAKI, AKAASHI, choso, MEGUMI
PLAYBOY BUNNY
it was you who wanted to be a playboy bunny, the perfect slutty outfit that shows enough skin to still be cute. but once he heard the idea come from you, he was quick to ask you to be hugh hefner, thinking that him dressing up as a bunny would be even funnier.
and of course, once his frat brothers heard the news of that, his buddies joined in, all dressing in skin-tight black latex with bunny ears sticking from their heads. all on either side of you in the silk red robe and sailor hat. he thinks the dynamic change is hot. the way his tall figure looms over you despite the submissive costume he wears.
and, as if to match the piece he sports, he's sure as hell fucking you like a rabbit in heat after he's had his fun. thrusts quick enough to put you in a drunken daze, like the alcohol wasn't enough. pace quick, bruising, and tiring yet the bunny ears remain on his head through it all.
GOJO, dick, HINATA, choso, atsumu, OIKAWA, makki, goshiki, roy
MAGIC MIKE
c'mon, you think he's got chiseled abs for no reason? well, he sure gave a reason for them tonight.
the sluttiest costume you've ever seen, and it's all things he found in his closet--the only thing that was purchased was the oil he rubbed across the ripples of his abdomen; accentuating the muscle that he sure as hell worked for.
topped off with a tie around his neck and low-waisted jeans, he's quick to spot the prettiest girl in the same room as him. quick to place claim on you with hands on your waist and kisses on your neck. he's shameless, and it's almost embarrassing when he and his two other frat brothers are sitting you on a foldable chair in the middle of the living room. giving you a lap dance that consists of grinding against you and pulling your hand to rub down his chest.
roles change when you're in the bedroom, though. he likes the way you hold onto the tie, riding him dumb and pulling him forward by the piece of cloth when his eyes roll to the back of his head.
DICK, ATSUMU, toji, SUKUNA, nanami (forced), oikawa, GOJO, ROY
THE JOKER
oh, this guy's crazy. crazy for you, that is.
what'll it be, sweet? harley quinn or catwoman? you gotta pick one or the other, and it better be the tiniest pair of shorts if you choose the former or a tight latex suit if it's the latter.
hell, it doesn't matter either way. he's covering you all night with his big hands all over your body, sucking embarrassingly dark hickies into your neck. hickies mixed with red smeared on his lips equal the biggest and nastiest mess of splotches all over your skin. and don't bother reminding him you don't want your professors to see on monday... he doesn't give a damn. in fact, he'll give you even more love bites, reminding those nasty old men you're taken for the count.
it's generous that he lasts an hour in the party space, dragging you upstairs and fucking you enough times that the only word you remember by the end of the night is his name, oh, and his makeup is smeared all between your plush thighs.
TOJI, kageyama, GETO, jason, MATTSUN, CHOSO, bokuto, KUROO, SUKUNA, kita, KUNIMI, TENDOU
đˇď¸: @nmw-am, @cl-0-vr, @loviie-stuff, @mxqdii, @harleycao, @idyllcy, @aviixol, @nightjarwings, @hearttjason , @roysjason , @blursotongz , @zaxlrza
thank you for this kinktober everyone! i still have my toji fic to finish lol, but i thought this would be a fun surprise! happy halloween pretty babies. also thank you for 800!
#listen in a regular world jason would so fuckin be the joker sorry#this was so fun oh my god#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#choso kamo x reader#nanami kento x reader#yuji itadori x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#inumaki toge x reader#sukuna x reader#iwaizumi hajime x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#bokuto koutaro x reader#matsukawa issei x reader#aki hayakawa x reader#miya osamu x reader#miya atsumu x reader#kenma kozume x reader#hinata shoyo x reader#roy harper x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#tendou satori x reader#haikyuu x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#haikyuu smut#suna rintaro x reader
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