#i ended up going way cleaner than i usually do for animation so it took a couple days

[tawnysoup]

The one eyed Siffrin Wink™

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

Infection control

A Cody Burns gets abducted by aliens fic.

Cody wasn't even aware anything was happening. One moment, he was camping with Frankie and Boulder, painting the night sky and splattering paint on each other. The next, he woke up in a filthy cage surrounded by all kinds of familiar and alien animals.

There was a bot, at least. A yellow and purple one, talking in what Cody recognized as cybex to a computer terminal. It took some effort, but Cody eventually switched on the translator on his comm link.

It was worse than he thought. The bot seemed to be haggling a price out of the unknown caller. He was getting angrier and angrier, finally ending the call with a huff and stomping over to Cody's cage.

"You," he said, practically vibrating with anger. "Are going to get this whole operation shut down. Of course, out of all the places I go to get a test sample of a potential product, it had to be Autobot central. Not only that, you're apparently the offspring of one of the prime's pets. Now, I am way too far away to just shove you in an escape pod and hurl you back into that cursed marble's atmosphere, and, on top of all that, you're a juvenile, which means that everything I do right now is way more illegal then I can get comfortable with." The bot grabbed a sack of some sort of kibble out of a cabinet. "And if you think you're getting any of this, you are sorely mistaken!" He shouted, riling up the animals. The bot portioned out the kibble to each animal, occasionally swapping it with different meats and vegetation.

Cody decided it was best to play dumb for the time being, sitting on the floor of the wire cage. The cage had a mesh bottom, with holes to the sides. After watching the bot use a hose to clear away droppings from the bottom of a similar cage, Cody got a better idea of what he was sitting in. Good thing he was wearing his ratty painting clothes.

He shivered, and he wished he had his warm, heavy jacket. It was being washed, having been dropped off at a dry cleaner specializing in old textiles.

The jacket had been passed down from when his grandpa had been his age, and they literally didn't make them like they used to. It was all real leather, wool, and cotton, and was almost indestructible. What little wear and tear that showed up was almost always fixed with some leather shoe polish or a trip to the dry cleaners or tailor. He knew that his siblings were saving up to get him a new one made by a professional historical tailor when he stopped growing. It would quite possibly cost more than a month of any one of his siblings' salary, but he had proven time and time again growing up that he had a knack for ruining clothes. His signature green t-shirts were bought in bulk from the same uniform company that produced the rescue team's uniforms.

He looked the bot in the eye as he made a big show of skipping his cage.

Too much time passed by before the bot, Swindle, he found out, finally gave him some of that kibble stuff and murky, gritty water. But, it was water, cold, like everything in this place, and he drank every drop he was given, making a face as the grit made a slime on his tongue.

A few of the animals had been sold to various buyers, a few touring the room they were in. One or two seemed interested in him, and Swindle would take him out of the cage and rattle off the same list of attributes associated with humans and, occasionally, make a big show of showing them his feet and hands, particularly his nails, which he had been growing so Frankie could paint his nails.

They had a running gag that Frankie was going to take him to the nail salon in town and get hot pink acrylic nails together. Usually, Frankie just gave him dark green or a color that matched his skin tone so well that the bots thought he had shed them. That was a hilarious conversation to have.

But, no one bought him. Swindle was starting to get frustrated, and when he got in that mood, water was scarce, and food was even scarcer.

Cody was starting to lose hope that he would ever be fed when a loud boom echoed through the ship. He could only stay awake long enough to hear the sound of bolt cutters sniping through the first few wires of the cage before he couldn't stand anymore, and the disgusting cage floor rose up to meet him.

Cody first woke up in too bright room, the sounds of beeping and indecipherable voices in languages he couldn't understand rushing to his ears. He tried to cover them but found that he couldn't do much more than squirm, a soft fabric, half damp against his wet skin, trapped him in a fetal position. He was on his back on a hard surface, a bright light in his eyes as blurry shapes darted around him. A too big hand with - three fingers? Put a gloved hand over his face, giving him relief from the light. He could feel the fabric his arms and legs trapped loosen, and something metal and cold gently pulled his arm out of the fabric wrapping. He felt the pinch of a needle in the crook of his arm and felt the thumb of the gloved hand over his eyes stroke his cheek, wiping away a few tears.

Cody woke up again in a pile of soft blankets, his head pounding. The first thing he felt after the headache started to subside was that he was wearing different clothes. He looked down to see he was dressed in a clean, two-piece garment that seemed to be closed by overlapping panels of stretchy, soft fabric. His nails had little neon rubber caps over them, the surface ridged so he could still pick things up easily.

The lights in the room were dimmed, the walls white. Cody looked down again to see that he had two disconnected IVs still in the back of his left hand and crook of that elbow. He stretched and could feel a few bandages on his shoulders and upper back. He jumped when a panel in his room turned out to be a screen.

Other than a pleasant blue background and a pair of white outlined boxes, the screen was blank. Cody got up from the pile of blankets and wobbled slowly into view of the screen.

As soon as Cody settled into frame, the screen started playing prerecorded audio, with translated captions scrolling slowly off to the side.

"Hello there, Cody. I know you might not be feeling well, so I will keep this brief. If you are here, you were taken by a pet trafficking ring or were exposed to a disease originating from a world known for its pet trade. Of course, you are sentient and will be treated as such. Unfortunately, protocol dictates that you have to serve a mandated equivalent of two earth week quarantine before being returned to Earth. The faction known as the Autobots will be receiving you after the quarantine. Now that the fancy legal stuff is over, I can talk a bit nicer. My name is Dr. Rav'ac. I will be attending quarantine with you along with my two medical students and three nurses. We appear as depicted onscreen."

Cody examen the photo realistic models of each of the aliens. As he suspected, Dr Rav'ac had three fingers on each hand. He was a dusty oranage color and had four legs configured like a spider's underneath him. The medical students were both from his race, while the two nurses, a shorter, many armed blue insectoid and a tall and lanky pale green being that reminded Cody of a giraffe.

"All medications will be dispensed below the screen." Rav'ac continued, pausing to let Cody be distracted by the screen. "and you will be required to take all of them. If something isn't agreeing with you, tell us immediately. We are required by law to take blood and other samples for lab testing. On those days, there will also be a small cup of blue gel. I will tell you now that it is meant to make you feel drowsy, and it includes some very mild painkillers to remove any discomfort. You will still be conscious and should be capable of answering simple questions, but I feel like it is better to know beforehand. You were put under anesthesia when we brought you in due to the fragile state you were in. After passing a basic health exam, we cleaned off the waste that was eating at your skin and got you into a nice climate controlled room to help keep up your body temperature. There is a seated waste disposal directly across from your bedding, and a clean water dispenser right next to it for washing your hands and drinking water. If you want food, just tap the screen and ask, and we will get some for you. Again, if any medicine you take, food you eat, or anything you come in contact with causes a reaction or pain, please notify us immediately through the screen. Do you understand everything i have told you today?"

"Yeah, I think so." Cody said, digesting all that information slowly.

"A transcript of this conversation will be available to you for review on the home screen. I will let you rest for a few days before the first round of mandated tests. For your sake, I hope this is all a waste of time." Rav'ac said solemnly, ending the call.

Cody used the toilet, then curled up in the tangle of bedding. The lights dimmed even lower, and he drifted off to sleep.

Rav'ac had bad news the next morning. An animal that had died on the ship had its autopsy results come back, and it was positive for a bacteria well known for jumping from species to species. A short quarantine had now become a two month enforced stay, with near daily checkups and enough blood and tissue samples to leave Cody constantly a little dizzy. Antibiotics became a constant, and Cody was thankful that the medical staff was more than happy to entertain every little request they could along the way. The gel became obsolete, as Cody was eager enough to get out of quarantine that he almost never put up a fight.

Well, except when they tried to take blood from his head after he blew a vein. He may have tried to bite someone. Who knows? It never made it to official reports.

Luckily, the bacteria never made an appearance, and after one last week of quarantine, Heatwave and Optimus picked him up. Cody wasn't even ashamed of curling up in Heatwave's backseat and crying himself to sleep on the way back to Griffin Rock. He was mobbed by his siblings and dad as soon as Heatwave opened the door. Charlie carried his son to the red couch quietly, tucking his head under his chin and rubbing his youngest's back as the rest of his children piled around him. The five of them fell asleep there, all curled up together. The photo, taken by Optimus before he left, was shared with all their phones the next morning.

Cody practically ripped off the hospital clothes he had been given and snuggled into one of Kade's old t-shirts he had stolen when he was little. He was kinda sad that it was now starting to fit him properly. Old pj shorts were a necessity, along with his jacket and a day off with his whole family, bots included. For once, the island let the family of heroes have their peace, not a single disaster in sight.

[sicparvismorrigan]

Friendly Fire - Chapter One: Wild Animals

Ellie Thibodeaux holds arguably the worst job in Bridgehead City. She’s not a cook. She’s not even a cleaner. She’s the resident RDA psychiatrist, and her next assignment is helping the formerly deceased Project Phoenix come to terms with being brought back to life as an entirely different species.

Enter Colonel Miles Quaritch, the most reluctant, and most challenging patient she’s ever had the displeasure of treating.

James Cameron’s Avatar - The Way Of Water (2022)

Recombinant Quaritch x ofc (currently professional/platonic, enemies/annoyances to friends, could be more) & Quaritch x Paz Socorro

Warnings: mild swears

Tagging: @kmc1989 (lmk if you want added to the taglist!)

Read on Ao3

Prologue | Chapter 2

Wild Animals

“Take a seat-“ Sir?

No, screw that, Colonel Quaritch wasn’t her commanding officer.

”-…over there.” Ellie gestured at the comically large armchair placed opposite her own human-sized one.

She stifled a nervous giggle. Strange to be the one giving the orders for a change.

Just make sure these recom soldiers are of relatively sound mind. Flag any issues. That’s your only job.

Ellie understood why her role existed. The big bosses of the RDA were more than a little twitchy at any mention of recombinants after the actions of Jake Sully, Na’vi sympathiser. It could not happen again.

The destruction of the Omatikaya Hometree sixteen years prior had been a colossal waste of money and lives. Ardmore called the shots now, and was determined to do things differently this time around. She figured cheaper and easier to employ a psychiatrist, than be doomed to repeat history. Video diaries alone weren’t going to cut it anymore.

It might be Ellie’s only job, but it was one Hell of a job. She was the one holding the metaphorical scales judging the outcome of Project Phoenix.

She ran through her usual welcome-to-the-session spiel as she sat down to face Quaritch, adjusting her visor under her chin.

That was another thing. Neither of them could breathe the other’s air.

A power move for sure, since she was the one currently speaking through an exopack, the rubber seal itching her face terribly.

Compromise. It had to happen.

Part of her didn’t think Quaritch would even deign to show up. But Ardmore had reassured Ellie that he took his schedule very seriously. And if the Colonel was one thing, it was punctual.

But why would any of the recombinant soldiers bother with a shrink in the first place?

The General had promised certain motivations for those who regularly attended their appointments with Tibbs, M.D. Things that were hard to come by. Items that made living on an alien planet, and in a new alien form, a little more bearable.

Zdinarsik had a penchant for pink bubblegum. Sure thing. Mansk had a quite frankly embarrassing collection of expensive sunglasses. Forget about it, done. Fike and Wainfleet, Ellie wasn’t privy to their wants, but she had a feeling they were of the adult reading material variety.

Still only human, even in a non-human body.

Quaritch, well, Ellie wasn’t sure what he liked yet.

Did he like anything?

Judging by the look on his face, he certainly didn’t like her.

Goddamn it, initiating conversation with these blue giants never got any easier. They were all just so intimidating.

Ellie cleared her throat and tried to look ill-at-ease as she took the first step.

“So, what would you like to talk about today?”

No response.

Well, that was rude.

She tried for more casual, conversational. “How’s Project Phoenix treating you so far?”

Still nothing. Maybe an expletive muttered under his breath as he stared her down.

Oh great, he was going to be one of those.

”Whatever, it’s your hour.” Ellie shrugged. “I get paid the same whether you talk or not.”

They sat in claustrophobic silence for over forty-five minutes, the Colonel clearly going to the place deep in his mind where he could feel no pain, and Ellie wishing she could do the same.

Towards the end, when it was apparent he wasn’t going to give her anything at all, she started writing on her notepad, scrambling for something she could type up later that was incrementally more interesting than the colour of the walls or what the weather was doing.

The incessant scratching of pen on paper was what finally got the Colonel to speak up.

”What you scribbling there?” His cat-like ears flicked back in irritation. “You sketching my portrait or something?”

“Hm?” She glanced up, startled by the sound of his voice. “Oh, it’s just notes.”

”I ain’t done anything.”

”You haven’t said anything.” Ellie tapped her pen against her notepad. “I wouldn't write down specifics we discussed, doctor-patient confidentiality rules. But I can still write about your overall demeanour, how stressed you appear…unwillingness to co-operate. That’s the sort of thing I report back to the General.”

“Got it all figured out, doncha?” His sardonic reply made her stomach drop. “I don’t have to tell you anything, shrink-wrap.”

”No, but you may as well get something out of our session.” She replied, exasperation threatening her tone. “We can talk about literally anything.”

“Anything?” He suddenly leaned forward, fixing her with eye contact so intense she found it hard to hold his gaze. “Stays in this room?”

Ellie tried not to let her excitement show as she nodded agreement. Less than an hour and she was already wearing him down, a notoriously difficult customer. Who said the Colonel was hard to break?

“Alright.” He settled back in his oversized chair with a smirk. “Why don’t you tell me, about how that arm of yours ain’t real?”

Ellie couldn’t catch the shocked widening of her eyelids fast enough. ”Excuse me?”

She fought the instinctual twitch of reaching down to tug at her sleeve with her remaining hand. A nervous gesture, to cover herself.

But he was right on the money. Ellie Thibodeaux only had one arm.

Still a very sore subject. Power moves, indeed.

She could only gawp at him stupidly, speechless.

”I’ve seen my fair share of busted limbs.” Quaritch drawled. “I know a prosthetic, and a bad one at that, when I see one, even with your clothes on.”

Ellie meanwhile, was just staring back in horror.

“What got you? Landmine, congenital defect?” He quirked an eyebrow at her discomfort. “Wild animal?”

“That’s none of your concern.” To her annoyance, she sounded upset when she finally spoke. Ellie’s voice shook as she croaked out her words.

Crap, audible weakness.

With her exopack on, she couldn’t take a sip of water to break the tension. She couldn’t do anything except fog up the inside of her visor with how her breathing had quickened.

“I’m gonna go with the latter. The hand that still moves just strangled your pen to death.” Quaritch nodded knowingly, visibly pleased with his own intellect. “Guess you just didn’t run fast enough, back on Earth, huh?”

“Maybe I’m still running.” Ellie muttered. She blinked after the words hung in the atmosphere between them.

Why’d I say that?

“Are you, now?” He finally looked somewhat interested in her. “What are you running from, shrink?”

The datapad on the table to her right started beeping insistently. Ellie‘s end-of-session alarm was sounding, an entire hour had finally passed.

Thank Christ for that.

She forced an angelic smile, beyond relieved.

”Sorry, Colonel. That’s all the time we have for today.”

“Hm.” He nodded, already standing to leave. ”Was just getting good.”

”Will you be attending our next session?” Ellie asked, unable to keep the hostility out of her voice. She was hoping for a firm no. Fine, let Ardmore deal with him.

Her professional facade had well and truly slipped. Quaritch had successfully rattled her.

”I might.” He didn’t even look back. “See you around, shrink-wrap.”

Oh God. She would see him around, no doubt. Bridgehead City was big, but not big enough. The entire planet of Pandora was no longer big enough for her liking.

Ellie exhaled and slumped down in her chair, exhausted. “Shit.”

That could have gone better.

He’d told her nothing, and gotten uncomfortably close to her heart in record time, homing in on her missing arm as easily as an enemy target.

Who’s breaking who, then?

Obviously, he wasn’t Colonel for no reason. She knew that now.

Ellie was already dreading his second session more than she ever thought possible.

***

Thanks for reading!

[dokidokitsuna]

Working on Magical Friends: Doki’s animation “pipeline”

…Since this is still an incredibly basic 1.5-man operation, it’s not much of a pipeline. ^^; But I wanted to put together a little thing to show the public how I do what I do, and if this sounds doable or interesting to you, I’m always on the lookout for more volunteers! dokianimara@gmail.com is my official ‘art business’ email, just FYI~

So let’s start by taking a look at this GIF preview of a finished scene:

I chose this sequence because it’s probably the longest and most complex one I’ve done so far. The character rotates, the scene pans up, I got some spinny light effects in there, lots of weird stuff I’ve never done before. (●u●;;) But it came out alright in the end, so let’s examine it.

So before I start thinking about animating, I refer to the work of my storyboard volunteer, Greytan. They actually gave me just one simple shot:

Which I extrapolated into…what I did. ^^; I don’t mean to ‘ignore’ their boards, and I hope they don’t feel slighted when I do things like this, it’s just that they are genuinely a much more skilled and more professional animator than I am, and our brains just don’t work the same way so sometimes I have to diverge a bit. :P Or, y’know, sometimes I come up with a great idea of my own that I really wanna try, which is probably what happened here.

Anyway, my first step after looking at boards is to grab a pencil and paper and draw the shot: a picture that lays out what the scene will look like, with either the starting frame or a key frame, and the background included. As you can see, I doodled some of my ideas for how the sequence would progress, which is good, because after drawing this I wouldn’t return to this shot for like 6 weeks. ^^;

When I finally did get back to it, I grabbed a second piece of paper for Step 2, which is the actual ‘animation’: using the shot as a base to draw the rest of the frames that will go into the sequence. This is where my lightbox comes in handy, although usually I can see through the paper well enough to just draw wherever. ^^ [Fun fact: in my early days, I would just scan the original shot, erase it, and replace it with the next frame, drawing each new frame on the exact same piece of paper. I am…very glad I don’t do this anymore]

Now, animation is mostly guesswork for me. ^^ I mean, my guesses are pretty good, but they’re still guesses, which is why I call myself an amateur. It’s not me downplaying my skills, it’s just me admitting that they aren’t based on solid expertise or experience (yet).

When I animate a shot, I try to make sure each frame looks like it has movement in it all by itself. Gesture drawing, dynamic posing; those are things I’m already good at, so when I animate I make ‘em work hard for me. >:3c

The end result comes out looking kind of like a sprite sheet:

And I do use these drawings kind of like assets; Step 3 is to scan them (along with the initial shot) and use them to ‘construct’ the frames that go into the video editor. This is the step that takes the longest, where I clean up the sketches and color them and paint the backgrounds (separately, if necessary). It’s not as difficult as Steps 1 and 2, but it’s a lot more tedious.

So naturally, sometimes I like to make sure my sprites actually work before I start all that…work. ^^ So I throw together a test animation based on what I have:

And this did help-- it assured me that the first half with Mago would probably look fine, although the second half with the magic light-thing probably needed to have a cleaner sense of direction and more frantic movement as it ascended. When you’re working with a low frame-rate, you generally want things to move a LOT or hardly at all; you don’t want any of that in-between stuff. So I took that into account when preparing the “finished” product. I put “finished” in quotes because I’ll probably adjust the timing of the frames a little when I move to the video editor (Step 4, which I’m not going to talk about here). But yeah, that’s pretty much it. ^^

Generally when I think about adding artists to the team, I’m thinking about them doing Step 1, Step 2, Steps 1 and 2, or Steps 1-3 (so basically, completing a full sequence of frames that I can just add in). For me to hand sketches to someone and expect them to do Step 3 alone would require a level of trust that I’ve never had in any fellow artist before…but idk, anything can happen in the future. ^^;

[nationalharryleague]

Acts of Service

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: FLUFF

Word count: 2K

A/N: This is a fluffy love letter to Harry’s love language definitely being acts of service. Feedback is always appreciated and loved! More of my work can be found in my masterlist! 

***

You hadn’t wanted to go out in the first place.

The club was hot and sticky and the pounding of the music was giving you a headache between your eyes. Blisters had begun to form from the rubbing of your heels and your boob prison of a push up bra was beginning to pinch in all the wrong places. You wanted to go home.

At home, you knew the green-eyed, curly-haired god of a man you had somehow trapped in your own spell was waiting up for you. You pictured him curled up on your couch in your apartment, where you had begged him to stay so he would be there whenever you were released from Girls Night. You smiled at the thought of him fighting off sleep with your dog burrowed into his side and your kitten curled up on his chest. A smile pulled it’s way to your lips thinking of how you would collapse next to him and be enveloped by the smell that could be described only as Harry that filled your apartment whenever he was there. You hadn’t been with him for long, but you knew you never wanted to be without him again.

Miss you. Be home soon :), you typed out to him and pressed send before your phone was ripped out of your hands by familiarly manicured fingertips. Your objections were met with laughter and playful scolding from your friend, Sarah.

“No more phone!” she giggled, slipping your device into her own back pocket. “More dancing and drinking,” she insisted, grabbing your arm and pulling you from the depths of the red velvet booth. She held her iron grip on your hand as you were dragged through the cramped dance floor to the long bar. Soon shots were placed in your hands of some clear foul smelling liquid that Sarah assured you ‘didn’t burn too bad.’ On the count of three, you found out your friend was a dirty good-for-nothing liar and the fiery alcohol slid it’s way down your throat, feeling it’s intoxicating effects only minutes later.

Dancing didn’t sound too bad anymore. Dancing actually sounded great. And dance you did. You felt your normally self conscious and slightly awkward self melt away as it always did when you had a couple drinks in you and you had the time of your life. When the club turned its lights up, the universal sign of ‘get the fuck out,’ your friends piled into the back of your designated driver’s car. You were usually DD, but you were glad you passed up the opportunity for once.

“There’s my man!” you shouted out the back window as you pulled up to the apartment building, finding Harry waiting for you, leaning against the front doors. He loved it when you called him ‘your man;’ letting out a light chuckle but fighting a blush from finding its way to his face in front of the gaggle of girls. He looked sleepy, understandable since it was nearly 3am, but a smile didn’t leave his lips as he gently rubbed his eyes.

“Hi my girl,” his voice graveled back, thick with the sound of sleep. Clumsily climbing out of the back seat, you wobbled your way to his waiting arms, finally feeling steady supported by his firm hold on your waist.

“I missed you,” you whispered, only stumbling over your words a little and puckering your lips slightly, silently asking for a kiss. You watched his eyes flicker quickly up at the watching car full of your closest friends before giving into your request. When your lips met, you were cheered on by a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs,’ your girlfriends determined to embarrass you both. You pressed your now pink cheek to his chest as you waved your friends off into the night, saying your goodbyes and feeling a light peck to the top of your head.

“Come on, let's get you upstairs party girl,” Harry spoke softly, his hand securely wrapped around you and a finger hooked into your jeans’ belt loop, steadying your slightly swaying body. The elevator ride up to your apartment was short, filled with your drunken blabbering about whatever came to mind; topics varying from how soft your kitten was to how bad you wanted to eat the tub of cookie dough in the back of your fridge. Your thoughts were met with sleepy chuckles and his adoring gaze.

Walking inside your home, after a considerable fight with your key, you surveyed the sleeping animals curled up into their beds and raised their heads for only a moment before they deemed sleep more important than their mother. Looking around your cramped living room, you were greeted with a spotless apartment, far cleaner than when you left it for your night of mayhem. “Oh, you didn’t,” you accused as your shocked face met his smug one.

“I got a little bored and I thought it would be nice for you to come home to a clean house,” he smiled. Throw pillows were set on the couch in perfect alignment, tops and bottoms of potential outfits you had chosen from had long been folded and put away, and your carpet looked fluffier like it was freshly vacuumed. “There's also something for you in the kitchen.”

A whisper of ‘oh my goodness’ left your lips when you saw the plate of chocolate chip cookies sitting on your counter in the tiny kitchen. You were an emotional drunk and you didn’t even know you were crying until Harry wiped your tears away.

“You didn't have to do all of this for me,” you whimpered as he pulled you into another hug, leaning up against his warm frame to balance your own.

“I wanted too,” he assured you tenderly. “You know my love language is acts of service, or at least that’s what you told me it was,” he said, your head vibrating from the laugher in his chest.

Harry made you feel loved more than anything else in your relationship. You had only been together for a few months and they had been some of the happiest of your life. You two had met in a bookstore, however chiche it was, and had gotten coffee together. It was your treat (gift giving was your own love language) and very soon after you decided you never wanted to live a life without him in it. You loved him and you knew it, but you had not reached the point in your relationship where you were ready to tell him that. You hoped the gifts you brought nearly every time you saw him were already doing that for you.

You had never been in a relationship that you saw a clear future in. Sure, there were a few people here and there but you had always been known as the single friend. The friend that would always lend an ear, give unfounded relationship advice, and curse exes until they evenvitabily got back together.

Everything about Harry was different. You had met your match. You could spend days on end curled in each other's arms, only leaving your bed to grab snacks, and never run out of topics to discuss or want some time apart. You talked about your careers (he was a middle school music teacher and you were a law student), the meaning of life, childhood memories, your favorite colors, and so on. It was all just so easy with him.

He was also the first man you had ever been fully comfortable with. Overtime, your walls came down (or he knocked out a couple bricks and stuck in), and your usually self conscious demeanor began to twist into this new and improved version of yourself. Even if down the line you and Harry went your separate ways, you knew you would be better for knowing him.

You were brought out of your adoring haze when Harry asked if you needed help getting into pajamas. You agreed, knowing that getting you out of those jeans was going to be a two person job.  

Soon you were laying back on your (now perfectly made) bed, naked from the waist up; both of you fighting with the skin tight fabric, your inebriated hands being absolutely no help to the efforts. Your body shook with giggles watching your saint of a boyfriend tug on each leg of your pants, willing them to move, as he swore about how he was going to have to cut you out of them.

“Your neighbors are going to think we're going to town on each other,” he grumbled as he inched them down your legs.

“Nothing out of the ordinary then,” you laughed and wiggled your legs when you were finally free from their hold.

“I’m assuming you want this?” he asked, moving to take off his large tshirt, revealing first his ferns, then his butterfly, and then your favorite little swallows. After a feverish nod, you lifted your hands up and he slipped his shirt onto your smaller frame, enveloping you in the soft fabric and your favorite smell in the world.

“Smells like home,” you mumble while burying your nose in the fabric, unsure if he heard you.

“Oi, you’re going to stain it with your makeup,” he scolded. “Let’s get all that off.”

Sitting you down on the edge of the tub, you watched as he shuffled around the bathroom, frequently looking back to your face to examine his task. He looked at you like your face of makeup was a puzzle to be solved or a mountain to scale.

“I can just sleep in it and deal with it in the morning,” you said in between bites of the chocolate chip cookie you had stolen off the kitchen counter.

“We both know I’ll get in trouble if I let you sleep in it.”

“Probably,” you shrugged without paying much attention to him, mainly enamored by the cookie that was beginning to disappear.

Kneeling down in front of you, wielding a wash cloth soaked in makeup remover, Harry began to softly rub at your makeup. His touch was delicate and tender, careful not to get any in your eyes or hair line. He took his time, moving in soft circles, cleaning away the mask you had put on for the occasion. His breath handed softly on your face and you scanned his face, appreciating this time to take him in.

He was so beautiful. His eyebrows were gently brought together and his tongue would swipe over his lips every so often in focus. His eyes were deep and green, flecked with brown and blue, and framed by long black eyelashes you would kill for. Your eyes swiped around his face connecting his constellation of freckles and you reached up to brush your hands against the light stubble that had begun to show against his jaw line. You let your hand fall to his bare shoulder, stabilizing yourself against his strong build. His skin was soft and tan and perfect.

Your lips had a mind of your own when you said it. A verbalized moment of sheer honesty and adoration. You didn’t mean to say it. It just slipped out.

“I love you, H.”

You could take it back, but that would be lying and probably hurt his feelings. You could double down and keep talking, but your hazy thoughts couldn’t come up with anything else to say at the moment. Your third option was saying nothing. You picked the third.

He paused for a moment when he processed what you said, his eyebrows shooting up and giving you an amused look. A closed lipped grin played on his lips and he continued on with his task, wringing out the towel over the tub and going back in to dry your face.

If you had been sober, you would have absolutely panicked. You would have run out of the bathroom and buried yourself under your sheets, embarrassed of what you just did. But you were hanging on for dear life to your buzz, pretending like everything was perfectly peachy and you didn’t just accidentally tell your boyfriend of only a few months that you loved him.

“That’s good. Because I love you too,” he beamed, all exhaustion gone from his voice.

Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it :) My ask box is open with any feedback you may have! 

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 7

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot:  You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a   desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer:   Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

--

Chapter 7: Unmasked < | Previous Chapter

The next morning had rolled around far too quickly for your liking. Part of you ached to just stay curled up in your bed, where there wasn’t some wild unknown waiting for you. Where there was something familiar. All you would have beyond yourself that was familiar was Techno. Who wasn’t all that familiar, truth be told. Definitely not a complete stranger, but not much better.

You practically drug your feet as you got out of bed, staring longingly at your surroundings. Would you ever return to this room? Maybe if you were visiting, but this wasn’t your room anymore. It left you feeling almost hollow. Reluctancy plagued your every movement, even as you dressed. Your dagger fell comfortably against your hip once more as you tightened the belt around your waist. It was still unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. It was something safe. You needed that right now.

All too soon, your melancholic peace was interrupted by a few of the servants bustling in to collect your belongings. You softly told them to ensure that the blanket would be in the carriage with you during the ride, so it could be accessed. Another little comfort for you. Who knew how awkward the trip would be. You knew good and well you weren’t good at holding a conversation with Techno.

You had slipped out of the room, head swimming in various thoughts and scenarios. Despite Techno’s reassurances the other day that you would manage fine, and his kingdom wasn’t bad, you had your doubts. Your own fears. 

“Don’t look so down,” George’s voice called from beside you, making your head snap up. What was with people sneaking up on you first thing in the morning? You sighed, rolling your shoulders a little.

“It’s hard not to. It’s exciting, but at the same time it’s terrifying. I’m leaving everything and everyone that I know and love.” You gazed in front of you, as if trying to memorize every brick that lined the walls. How different would your new home be from your old one?

“I think you’ll be just fine. I’m sure there’s plenty of friends to make there.” George was trying his best to reassure you, and you could only offer a weak smile. You hoped he was right. Perhaps there were friends to be made in Techno’s brothers. You wouldn’t truly know until you met them, though.

“Hopefully,” You murmured. You took a deep breath as you walked into the dining hall with your brother, settling into your usual spot. For the last time. These thoughts were extremely frustrating, but there wasn’t more to be done about them. They wouldn’t be soothed. They were likely normal, but that made it hard to keep them tamped down.

Breakfast was simultaneously slow and far too fast. You were swamped with thoughts the whole time, hardly responding to anyone. It was a struggle on how to feel. You exchanged a couple greetings with Dream and Techno, but neither seemed to push you for more conversation. Which was greatly appreciated. Even as you slid out of your seat, you felt almost despondent. 

You stood on the steps of the castle, staring at the carriages that awaited you. The carriage that would take you away from home. Even though you were technically going to a new home, it hardly felt like that. Truthfully, nothing could have prepared you for the emotions that came with something like this.

“Are you ready?” Techno’s voice rang beside you, and you nodded numbly. He nodded slightly, moving towards one of the carriages to climb inside, the door propped open. You stepped down the stairs, glancing over your shoulder. Dream and George were just behind you, with the latter offering a soft and encouraging smile.

“You’ll be fine, just don’t forget to write to me,” George said. Always reminding you to not forget. You nodded, letting him hug you just as he did last night.

“Make sure you take good care of our kingdom, okay?” You murmured. You knew this wasn’t a goodbye forever, but it felt like it would be a long while before you saw him again. You weren’t even sure when the wedding would be, but you knew he would be there.

“Always. They’ll be calmer without you causing problems all the time.” He gave your hair an affectionate ruffle as he stepped away. Dream didn’t waste his time in stepping in next. He wrapped you up in a bone-crushingly tight hug, chin resting atop your head.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He murmured quietly, voice low. You sighed, clinging onto him just a little.

“I have to, Dream. You know that,” You whispered, eyes closed. When would the next time be that you got to hug him like this? 

“I know, but I can still hope. I really don’t want you to leave. I’d do anything if it would change your mind and get you to stay.” You breathed a soft laugh, head shaking.

“If only it were that easy. You’ll see me again. It just won’t be daily.” You began to peel yourself away from him, glancing up at his face. He seemed so conflicted and upset, brow furrowed. One hand cradled your cheek for a few moments, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“Just take care of yourself. This isn’t the end of all of this,” he reassured. You nodded and smiled, leaning briefly into his hand before it fell to his side. With that out of the way, you finally stepped back, taking a few moments to watch the two of them before turning to retreat to your carriage. 

Techno stood from where he had been sitting inside of it, holding out a hand to help hoist you up. You took it, grasping the frame of the door as you stepped up into the carriage. As you did, he looked behind you with narrowed eyes. You followed the gaze as you moved to settle into your seat. Dream was at the other end of it, returning the stare with an almost venomous glare. What was their problem? They’d been this way the entire time.

Techno closed the door to the carriage and sat down across from you, leaving you to sigh. You could still peer out of the window, though you didn’t particularly care to right now. It’d only worsen your mood, probably.

“I was beginning to wonder if you only wore dresses,” Techno finally broke the silence, causing your focus to shift from your thoughts to him instead. You glanced towards your attire, completely forgetting you had forgone a dress for today. You didn’t like traveling in them, and there was no telling how long the trip would take. It had been in your best interest to wear the pants.

“Of course. I just don’t often do things that warrant me needing to wear pants.” You shrugged a little bit. You settled back against the cushions, making a face as the carriage lurched. You rarely did travel like this, so it would definitely be interesting. Or potentially very boring.

“You were really restricted here, weren’t you? You’ll have more opportunity to wear them here. Far more convenient and useful than a dress.” You raised an eyebrow at him. Was he really criticizing you on how convenient your fashion was?

“Are you really one to criticize fashion? You walk around wearing a boar skull that you can hardly see out of.” You fired back. A huff of laughter escaped him at that, hand lifting to close the curtains to the windows.

“I don’t normally wear it. Only in foreign lands or for extremely ceremonial proceedings,” He began nonchalantly. He reached up behind his head, fiddling for a few moments with something.

“You really don’t have to-” You had begun to object, though he only laughed.

“You’re gonna be seeing me without it sooner or later. Might as well start now. Besides, it isn’t exactly comfortable.” Carefully, he pulled the skull away from his face and you couldn’t help the interest coursing through you as his face was finally revealed. There was a lot to take in, and you weren’t exactly sure where to focus first. The three jagged scars on the right side of his jaw were much easier to see now, stopping at about the middle of his cheek. The bridge of his nose had a second scar across it, heading towards his eyebrow. This one looked much cleaner. Like it was done by a sword, whereas the others appeared to be done by an animal. Those were the most distinguishing things you could see, though there were hints of bags under his eyes. Beyond that, he was normal. Attractive, but normal.

“What happened?” You murmured curiously, unable to stop yourself. It was a touch easier to read his expressions now, and you were honestly glad for that. He seemed to contemplate the question for a few moments, settling the skull beside him.

“These were from a hunting accident as a child. They’re from the same boar whose skull I wear,” he explained, fingers tapping at the jagged lines along his jaw. You couldn't help but grimace a little.

"Have you been wearing it since then?" You nodded towards the skull, and he laughed again. An actual laugh- not the muted huff that was barely audible.

"No, I didn't start wearing it until a couple years ago. For a while it was just a… revenge trophy, of sorts. This one here," he motioned towards his nose, "Is from a duel with Wilbur." You could only blink. That one looked newer, so you can only imagine it had taken place in perhaps the last 5 years. Wilbur was that brother of his, wasn't he?

"You fight your brothers?" You were full of so many different questions. There was a lot to be answered, though. With every little detail he revealed, it brought about a new perplexity to him.

"Not on a normal basis, and not usually aggressive. We'll spar every now and then, but this was a one time thing." He didn't elaborate further for several moments, as if trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. What had called for an actual duel between them? "Tradition has it that if two princes have strife between them on who should be next in line for the throne, they duel. The duel runs until either one dies or concedes."

You stared at him, struggling to wrap your head around the concept. "Would you… would you have killed him?" You managed out. The question made him sigh, brows furrowing as he looked to the side.

"I don't know. I didn't want to kill him, no. He conceded before we could figure out the answer, though. I'm thankful he did, though." His voice was soft, but tinged with the faintest traces of affection. Okay, he wasn't as terrifying as he had briefly seemed. He at least cared for his family. You could deal with that.

"Being king one day was important to you, then?" You arched an eyebrow. The idea of being Queen had never crossed your mind. It had never been a plan, or a possibility. Not until recently, at least. Before that you had been just content to live your life, however it was thrown at you. Life had some strange workings, though. You were quickly discovering that.

"Yes. It felt like the natural path for me." He shrugged as he spoke and you simply nodded. Silence stretched in the carriage for an amount of time, though it was hardly uncomfortable. Every now and then you glanced towards Techno’s face, still trying to adjust to the lack of skull. Without it there, it was much easier to peer at the various gold studs and chains adorning his ears. He really didn't hold back on how ostentatious he was.

"I thought you weren't allowed to have weapons? At least not where Dream was concerned." You slid your gaze to his, where he nodded towards the dagger on your hip. You had nearly forgotten it was there.

"He doesn't want me to have any. It was a gift from the smith, he couldn't deny me it." You ran your fingers over the designs on the grip, carefully tracing one of the flowers.

"Can I see it?" He leaned forwards, elbows propping onto his knees. You pulled it from its sheath, carefully giving it to him. He held it in his hands, staring at it for a few moments. He shifted it closer and further from his face a few time until a huff escaped him. He sat it beside him, reaching for a pouch against his belt. You blinked a little as he pulled out a rather delicate pair of golden glasses.

He… had to wear glasses? Yet he still wore a stupid skull that prevented him from wearing them? Sacrificing his sight for looks. How ridiculous. You watched him settle them onto his nose, picking up the dagger once more.

"It's well made," he started and flipped it over. He pressed a finger to the tip to test the sharpness, though pulled it back before you could protest to the action. "Sharp, well balanced. Very ornamental but functional. I think its a fitting first weapon for you." He praised the knife, moving the pricked finger to his mouth. The other hand held it out towards you to take back and sheath. Which you did rather carefully. The last thing you wanted was to hurt either of you.

"You'll teach me to use it?" You questioned, trying to squash the excitement in your voice.

"They're pretty straightforward, but yes." A smile curved his lips, finger leaving his mouth. Excitement sparkled in your eyes, and it took a lot to not give a victorious little squeal. You had at least won some small battle.

---

George focal point

George stood beside Dream for several moments, watching the carriages holding his sister pull off. It was a bittersweet moment, truthfully, but he was happy for her. He had full reason to believe she would be happy there. She would flourish like she was meant to, in ways she had never truly been allowed to here. Not when she was in the presence of Dream, who was ever protective of her.

Speaking of the blonde, he turned to look at him, curiosity in his gaze. "Did you ever tell her?" He questioned, making the younger turn his attention to him instead of where his sister had disappeared.

He was silent for several heartbeats, lips pursed. "No." The words were plain, and flat. It caused George to sigh, rubbing his cheek in frustration.

"Are you okay with that? Her not knowing?"

"I have to be, don't I? Next time I see her she'll be getting married." He was bitter. So bitter, yet he had done it to himself. He had no one to blame, except for himself. Not that George dared to tell him this.

"You can always tell her, if it makes you feel better. It won't change anything, but it might save you. She doesn't catch onto hints, Dream." He turned, walking back towards the castle. He didn't need to look back to know Dream was following. He always did when he was the only option he had.

"How would it make me feel better? How would anything make me feel better?" 

"Don't be so dramatic, Dream. You know getting it out in the open will help. You'll be able to move on." Even now, George couldn't help but find the irony of Dream’s reluctance to say anything flat out, even if the only company he had was him and he already knew.

"I don't need to move on. She might have to come back." Stubborn ass. George shook his head with a sigh.

"Suit yourself. I won't force your words out. I can only recommend it." Forcing Dream to admit what they had both known for years wouldn't accomplish anything. It would only upset him, and he was too volatile currently to upset.

Next Chapter | >

[softyoongiionly]

Can I Make a Mess Now?

Jungkook’s never had sex before but, after realizing that he’s falling in love with you, he thinks he wants that to change.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Virgin! Jungkook, established relationship au, college au, smut, fluff.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: This is a part 2 to Will You Make a Mess Now? Please please please let me know what you think! Love you

Warnings: smut, language, 18+ only please.

Winter break never lasts long enough does it?

A few short weeks of bliss and then-

BOOM.

You’re forced out of the warm and lazy cocoon of holiday spirit and, back into the rigidity of modern education.

It’s not that you don’t enjoy your studies, it’s just that after nearly four years of exams and, group projects that never go exactly as planned; you are starting to feel burnt out.

It also doesn’t help that you spent the majority of your winter break sleeping over at your boyfriends house.

You got used to the weight of his head on your chest.

You got used to running your fingers through his hair; an act that lulled both of you to sleep.

You got used to waking up beside him every morning.

When the semester started once again, the two of you agreed that you’d reserve overnight stays to weekends only.

As encouraging as you were of each other’s success, copious amounts of alone time is a (delightful) distraction.

Especially since the two of you began exploring the boundaries of your relationship.

At the beginning of winter break, Jungkook had revealed to you that not only was he a virgin but, he’s never been touched before.

After a bit of discussion, he decided that he wanted you to change that.

And boy did you…

You still can’t get the images of him falling apart beneath the firm grasp of your hand out of your head.

It’s arguably one of the best things you’ve ever seen.

Jungkook’s room became the safe haven for exploration.

Many cold nights were spent underneath his duvet, touching on each other until things eventually got heated enough for you to take turns making eachother cum.

Happy Holidays indeed.

There was one night in particular that things got a little out of hand.

In the heat of the moment, Jungkook had torn off your t-shirt, leaving the two of you to make out in your underwear.

He positioned you on his lap with a low whine in his throat and, at the feeling of your heat pressing directly into his dick; he almost lost it right then and there.

It took everything in him to keep his hands steady.

To keep them from ripping your panties off…

However, he succeeded and although, it was painful to slow things down, he knew it was the right thing to do.

The only problem is, that night increased his desire to a level he’s never felt before.

He knows he wants you to be his first but; he’s so particular and, so sensitive to his surroundings that he wants to make sure everything is perfect.

Perfection is a concept he frequently struggles with and, although he’s lessened his standards over the years, he still finds himself reverting back to his old habits.

Losing his virginity is a big deal for him.

He can’t help that.

And because it carries so much weight, he feels the need to hold off until the moment is 100% right.

But, how does he define such a thing?

He knows he wants you.

He knows you want him.

He knows he’s falling in love with you…

So, how is a perfect moment established?

Can you plan it?

Jungkook doesn’t know but, he’s starting to believe that he can’t.

His brothers don’t understand his issues.

Seokjin’s been with his girlfriend for two years and, every time she comes to visit, he can hear her moaning through his bedroom door.

An event that continuously scars him.

Namjoon is engrossed in his studies so, he doesn’t make time for relationships.

But one time, when he was looking for his laptop, Jungkook walked in on him getting his dick sucked.

He’s still never gotten that image out of his head.

Hoseok literally attended an orgy two months ago.

Jimin’s dating his childhood sweetheart.

Taehyung stays over at the sorority house at least twice a week.

And, last but not least, Yoongi frequently walks around sporting various love bites and scratch marks after a night with his girlfriend.

Jungkook’s spoken with his hyungs’ regarding sex a few times but, it’s never a conversation he initiates.

He’s far too shy to openly speak about these things.

But from what he’s gathered, sex is top notch.

None of his brothers could think of anything that feels as good, although Yoongi did cite sleeping as a close second.

After a long week of lectures and tedious lab work, Jungkook has finally decided that he wants to lose his virginity.

Or at least…he’s ready to talk about it…

He starts off guns a blazing: he sends you a text trying to appear nonchalant despite the fact that his heart is currently pounding in his chest.

Jungkook: do you want to come over tonight? 

Jungkook: there’s a new season of that anime we started watching :)

His message does the same bit of damage on your heart because, although you two have been dating for quite some time, you still get excited at the thought of seeing him.

You: plzzz

You: this first week has killed me

You: I need to relax so bad

You: my brain cell count has dropped to dangerously low amount.

Jungkook chuckles to himself, shaking his head at your response.

Jungkook: wow

Jungkook: lower than normal???

Jungkook: that’s pretty bad jagi :/

You giggle, already gathering your toothbrush and, various other items needed for an overnight stay.

You:  I know

You: it’s a tragedy : (

Despite the playful banter between the two of you, Jungkook is furiously moving around his room, cleaning every inch of it.

He’s dusting the shelves, vacuuming his floor, rearranging his figurines on his desk.

He feels like a mad man…

Jungkook: lol you’re ridiculous

Jungkook: you can come over around 7 if you’re ready; I’m just finishing up an assignment.

Jungkook: miss you <3

Your boyfriend is literally sour patch kid.

You: miss you too 

You: falling asleep without you sucks

You: 10/10 would not recommend

Jungkook smiles, gripping his phone in his hand, a flurry of emotions stirring in his stomach.

Jesus, he really likes you…

Jungkook: stay the night then

Jungkook: I’ll make sure you sleep better tonight

He feels proud of himself.

He initiated you coming over, he’s holding a playful/flirty conversation with you, and he’s totally not freaking out at the fact that he’s going to have to tell you he’s ready to have sex.

Right?

Okay, the last part is definitely a lie but he’s just gonna go with it.

You: on my way :)

Jungkook receives this text from you roughly two hours later when he’s getting out of the shower.

He deep cleaned his bedroom, put fresh bedding on his mattress, scrubbed every inch of his body and, now he was standing in front of the mirror with nothing but a towel on his hips.

He takes time slathering lotion all over his skin, hoping that you like the vanilla-honey scent before applying a copious amount of deodorant.

He shaved in the shower, taking his time to remove the bit of hair around his crotch because it makes him feel cleaner.

Jungkook’s hair is getting longer too so, he’s been putting leave in conditioner on his ends to keep them healthy and spritzing his hair with anti-frizz serum.

After roughly 20 minutes of primping, he gets another text from you as he’s pulling on his sweat pants.

You: Here <333

Jungkook feels his stomach twist whilst reading your message.

Here goes nothing…

You’re standing outside the door of Jungkook’s house, dressed in a hoodie and a pair of leggings.

Comfy works out for you because, it requires minimal effort and, it’s also your boyfriend’s favorite look on you.

So, it’s a win win.

Given the fact that you and Jungkook usually end up fooling around, you took the time to exfoliate and shave whilst you were in the shower.

You may have also worn a new lacy red bra that had arrived in the mail earlier that day…

But, who knows?

“Yahhh there she is…”

You instantly light up as Jungkook eagerly swings open his front door, quickly pulling you into his grasp.

He smells amazing but, he feels even better and, you waste no time in pulling him close to you.

“I missed you.” You mutter into his hair

He grins, hugging you a bit tighter and, ushering you inside, “Missed you too, are you cold at all?”

Stepping through the threshold of his door, you notice that he’s freshly showered himself, his hair is damp and stringy but, it frames his face perfectly

“A little bit but, I plan on using you for warmth really soon so, I’m good.”

His hand is intertwined with yours as he leads you up to his room and, his face lights up with a smile.

“I got a new duvet on Tuesday, it’s really warm but,” He places a hand on his chest. “,you can still use me though, I missed having you here.”

Jungkook mutters the last half of his sentence, his cheeks warming up at his confession before he pushes open the bedroom door.

You don’t comment on his shyness but, it makes you smile and lean into him a little more.

His room is always clean but, the fresh scent of his disinfectant spray is slightly more pungent than normal. It isn’t a harsh smell; it’s a soft lavender cleaner that he special orders from Korea.

He absolutely hates the scent of bleach.

“It’s a nice color huh?”

Jungkook gestures to the muted grey of his new bedding, which is carefully placed over his mattress.

“I love it, it’s very you.” You smile as your eyes scan the room, “it matches your furniture really well too.”

His eyes light up, “Yeah, yeah that’s why I got it. I knew it would look good with the- um the desk and the dresser and stuff. See, I knew you’d notice that…you always notice things like that.”

Before you can respond he’s speaking again, his tone slightly uneven, “Um do you want to lay down? I know you said you were cold. I can hold you if you want-“ He grimaces at his word choice, not fully understanding why his nerves are taking over already, “not that  I don’t want to or anything. I do, I just…I know you’re cold.”

You touch your hand to his cheek, bringing his wandering eyes back to yours, “Are you ok?”

Jungkook swallows, his eyes locking with yours, “Y-Yeah, I just don’t want you to be cold…”

You’re not convinced.

Although the two of you have only been together for 6 months, you like to think you’ve gotten to know Jungkook really well. He isn’t exactly a closed book and, when he’s nervous about something, it’s fairly obvious.

“Are you suuuure?”

The question is paired with a soft kiss to his lips and, Jungkook can’t help but smile when you do, his posture relaxing slightly.

“I’m sure, I’m just happy you’re here. It was weird not seeing you all week.” He tucks a stray hair behind your ear before, pecking your lips.

Again, you’re not convinced but, you don’t want to pry.

He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

The matter of his worries is dropped and, Jungkook quickly (and neatly) pulls back the covers so, that the two of you can slip underneath them.

Moments later, you’re nestled against your boyfriend’s side, draping your arm over your stomach.

“You smell good…” You mutter against his sweater, nuzzling gently against the material.

Jungkook grins triumphantly, silently patting himself on the back for his choice of lotion.

“Thank you,” His chest vibrates with the sound of his voice, “so do you…”

With that, he tentatively raises a hand towards your hair, allowing his fingertips to brush over the top of your head.  

The anime begins playing but, you’re more focused on the way his fingers feel, as you melt into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt.

And halfway through the first episode, Jungkook’s motions are beginning to take a toll on you.

But not in the way you’d normally expect…

He’s smiling softly, admiring the way you sigh at his touch, taking time to play with the ends of your hair before massaging gently at your scalp.  

“You’re going to make me sleepy…” You mumble contently, a few minutes later and, Jungkook chuckles breathlessly beneath you.

“That’s ok; you can sleep if you need to.”  

He means it.

Jungkook had other things on his agenda but, now that you’re here, all he cares about is your comfort.  

“Don’t wanna sleep-“ You nudge your nose against his ribcage, “I missed you.”

With another chuckle, he traces his fingers over the edges of your hairline, brushing over the shell of your ear.

You can feel goosebumps rising on your skin but, it’s not intrusive or sudden, they come on slowly along with a type of comfort that only Jungkook can provide.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He soothes, his motions continuing over the arches of your brows before, he traces back up the expanse of your forehead. “I promise.”

You can feel yourself smile as your blinking slows, taking another deep breath whilst your body seems to melt into him.

The heaviness in your eyelids is growing despite your best efforts to warrant off your exhaustion.

You didn’t want to nap, you wanted to spend time with your boyfriend but, when he tucks his fingers beneath your hair and, begins scratching gently on your scalp, the threat of sleep becomes more prominent.

“Sleepy girl…” He teases, a fond smile on his lips as he watches your eyes finally close. His thumb brushes over your cheek, gently pinching at the skin before, returning his hand to your hair.

This warms you from the inside out and, sooner or later you can’t help but, drift off into a light sleep.

Jungkook smile grows and, he slows his movements to a stop before tugging on the duvet until it covers your shoulders.  

He decides in that moment that he really wouldn’t mind spending every night just like this; tucked under the covers, falling asleep in eachother’s arms.  

He changes the show to something you’ve already seen; he doesn’t want to watch the anime without you.  

After some time has passed, you slowly come out of your slumber, happy you’re still laying on your boyfriend’s chest.  

You peer up at Jungkook to see his brow furrowed in concentration as his gaze is locked firmly on the screen.  

A smile immediately finds it’s way onto your lips, your finger reaching out to bop him on the nose.

He jumps at first, not understanding the source of the interruption before he quickly matches your smile, ““Yah she’s awake. Did you have a good nap?” He thumbs over your cheek once more and, you’re overcome by the urge to press a kiss against his lips

He’s willing and able to accept it.

His hands come up to hold you against him and, he slowly begins to move his lips against yours

“Mhm...”

His nose wrinkles with the joy on his face as he presses more kisses to your lips.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep, I just haven’t been getting to bed on time this week...”

An adorable pout comes over his mouth, “Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you were able to get some rest. It’s not late or anything.”

It’s well past sunset but, Jungkook’s vanilla cake candle is providing enough light to illuminate the details of your boyfriends face.  

You kiss him again, just because he’s cute and you can, “What did you do while I was out?”

His head reclines against his pillow again but, he tugs you closer, ensuring that you remain against him.

“I watched a few episodes of Naruto...” He admits, “I’ve seen it a million times but, I never get tired of it.”

Your arms drape over his shoulders as the upper half of your body rests over his chest. The wispy ends of his black hair are too cute to resist so you absentmindedly toy with them as you respond,

“I get it, I have a few different shows that I’m like that with; I swear I’ve seen The Office so many times I could quote it in my sleep.”  

A half smirk curves on the end of his mouth, “Yeah that’s a good one too, Jin hyung watches that show all the time.”

You giggle, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear, “Ah that explains a lot actually, Jin and Michael Scott have a lot in common.”

He chuckles at that, nodding in agreement, leaning his head against your hand.

“Which character do you think you are?”

You purse your lips, mulling it over, your eyes narrowing in thought, “Hmmm that’s a tough one cause like- I wanna say Kelly because, she’s amazing but in reality, I’m probably more of a Kevin.”

Jungkook’s smirk grows, “Isn’t that the guy who dropped his chili all over the place?

With a dramatic sigh, you nod, “God, I’ve never related to anyone more in my entire life...”

A full belly laugh comes from your boyfriends pretty mouth, his body trembling beneath you as he shakes his head.

It’s one of your favorite sounds, especially when it gets all high pitched like it is now.

“Jagi you aren’t Kevin...” He insists, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, “You are cooler than him.”

“You’re just saying that because you see the best side of me; in reality I am 100% Kevin.” You giggle, tucking more hair behind his other ear.

He still chuckles, shaking his head before nodding to you, “Who do you think I am?”

This definitely gets your brain going.

“I’m leaning towards Jim, you guys have a lot in common.” You nod as you continue to think about their similarities, “Yeah, you both have the same sense of humor and, even though you’re more sexy in an obvious way, you both have the same kind of sexiness?? If that makes sense?? But, you’re definitely hotter than Jim.”

You force your train of thought away from the office- style fantasy that pops into your head as Jungkook feels something stir deep in his gut.

“You think I’m sexy?”

You can’t help but laugh at the surprised look on his face, you swear you’ll never understand how Jungkook doesn’t see how hot he is.

“Duh.” You seal your response with a kiss but, Jungkook surprises you by sitting up and tugging you onto his lap.

He chuckles at the squeal that leaves your lips but, he carries on kissing you, his hands sliding up your outer thighs.

You don’t know what prompts his motions but, you’re not really in the mood to ask.

You’d much rather sit on your boyfriend’s lap and, make out with him.

“Can you-” He whispers against your lips, slightly breathless, “Can you say it?”

Your eyes flutter open to catch the shyness in his, “Can I say what?”

Warmth floods the apples of his cheeks, “Can you say that you think I’m sexy?”

A smirk teases the corners of your mouth and, tentatively you roll your hips against his.

“Are you trying to get hard Jungkook?”

You can hear him gulp, his eyes widening a bit before he nods.

With a smirk still on your lips, you tilt his head back, moving your fingers through his hair as you slowly begin placing kisses up the side of his neck.

His breathing picks up and, god help him, he immediately feels his dick hardening in his sweats.  

Jungkook’s neck is a sensitive area and, you know exactly where his weak spots are.

As you reach the lobe of his ear, you feel his grip tighten on your hips, his mouth parted slightly to make way for his shaky breath.  

“Jungkook?” You whisper in his ear, biting your lip as you see him visibly shiver beneath you.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re sexy.”  

You nibble on his ear before quickly reuniting your lips, your hands sliding underneath his sweater.

His skin is so soft, so warm beneath your fingertips and, there is a large part of you that wishes you could spend hours just touching and kissing your boyfriend’s body.

Jungkook is eagerly reciprocating your kiss whilst his hands slowly move back up the outsides of your thighs.

His plan to get hard definitely worked because, you can feel him poking against your hips and, you’re already thinking of all the different ways you can make him cum.

“Did you get hard for me?” You whisper against his swollen lips, nudging his nose

Instantly he nods, his hands tugging the hem of your hoodie.

You take the hint, pulling back from him in order to remove it.  

Your plan is to continue kissing him of course but, as Jungkook spots the fire-red lace cups supporting the swells of your breasts, he lets out a tortured sigh.

“Is that new?” He swallows thickly, biting his bottom lip, allowing his hands to trail up your hips before securing themselves against your waist.

All you do is nod, sticking your chest out a bit and, encouraging him to keep touching you.

Jungkook leans in, dragging the tip of his nose between your breasts, inhaling when he reaches the space between your color bones.

“Did you wear this for me?”

His voice is ragged but, it’s deeper than normal, due to the arousal coating his tone.

“I wanted to look pretty for you.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair.

You can feel him smile against your chest, his wet lips trailing back to tops of the bra, “You’re always pretty but this-” He grows bolder, biting softly at your breast, “this is torture”

A giggle bubbles past your lips, as you roll down against him once more.

“Jagi I-” The sensation of pleasure that toys with his body acts like a truth serum and, in an act of desperation that he definitely didn’t plan, a confession tumbles from his mouth, “I want you.”

But you don’t quite catch his drift, still rocking slowly against him, arousal slowly beginning to unravel you, “I want you too.”

No like,” He pulls away, his eyes glazed over with desire as they lock onto yours, “I want to be inside of you...”

It’s like a punch to the gut really, the way your boyfriend’s voice seems to quake under the weight of his admission.

You cup his cheek, “Really? Are you sure?”

He nods eagerly, licking his lips before turning to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist, “I want you so bad...”  

You’re quick to capture his lips then, kissing into him with more fervor than you ever have.  

"Can you do it for us Noona?” He croons into your mouth, his eyes darkened with lust as they plead with yours.

A nod is all you can manage at his devasting way of asking you to ride him.

For the first time...

You’re pulling off his sweater, securing your lips to his once more, kissing on them as you lean him back against the pillows.

Your bottoms are removed, leaving you completely naked as you tug his sweats down his legs.

Jungkook’s erection looks painful and, you feel yourself ache at the thought of finally being able to sit on it.

As you sit astride him once more, you lean down to press a kiss between his eyes before trailing your lips down the bridge of his nose to hover over his mouth.

He looks a little emotional, staring up at you as if you hung the moon just for him.

And you would, you’d do anything for him.

“Are you ready baby?” You whisper

He takes a deep and unstable breath through his nose but, gives you a nod anyway as he exhales through his mouth.

Right as you start lining him up with your entrance, Jungkook cups your cheek, his hand clammed up due to his nerves.

“Jagi?” He croaks

You kiss his hand gently, reassurance in your eyes, “Yeah?”

“G-Go slow please...”

You nod, “Of course, tell me if you want to stop at any point ok?”

He returns your nod before, letting out another breath as his head returns to his pillows.

Slowly but surely, you begin sheathing him in your heat, going as slow as possible so he can feel everything.

His body seems to freeze as you sink down on him, his hands tightening on your hips before a gasp leaves his throat.

Jungkook is quite sure he’s in heaven.

That’s the only explanation for the intense feelings of pleasure swimming through his body. He’s never felt anything so hot, so tight-  

So fucking good.

He’s going to lose his mind.  

With wide eyes, he stares up at you in awe, his lips parted as the length of his dick is fully inside of you.

You’re not fairing too well either because, Jungkook fills you up perfectly, nudging against the spot within you that makes your head spin.

“Is that ok?”

“ ‘ss so good...”  His voice is slurred as his hips jerk beneath you, sending a wave of pleasure through your core.

Biting your lip, you thumb his cheek, trying to hold it together, “Can I ride you now?”

You’re asking because, you want to make sure he’s prepared.

You know this isn’t going to last long but, you still want to blow his mind.

“I’m already so close jagi...I’m sorry...” He chokes on the end of his sentence when you start a pace on his dick, “Oh fu- oh my god...”

“Shh...don’t be sorry, you’re doing so good. You cum whenever you need to ok?”  

“Ah- Y/N...”  

His beautiful features are screwed up in pleasure, his hands falling off your hips because, he literally doesn’t have the strength to hold on at this point.

Jungkook’s breathing is growing rapid, as his eyes flit to where you’re connected, “Jagi I’m- I’m really inside...I’m really inside of you...” He marvels, his voice weak with emotion as his hips begin to meet yours.  

“You feel so good inside of me.” You assure him, increasing your pace which prompts his eyes to roll back momentarily.

“Will you kiss me? Please? I wanna kiss you when I cum...and I’m-” His eyes re-focus but, it doesn’t last long as you lean forward to brace your hands on either side of his head, “Jagi I’m gonna cum already...I’m gonna cum so hard. Oh sh- shit...”

You want every wish of his to come true.

You lean down to connect your lips, your hips moving faster and faster, wanting him to cum harder than he ever has in his entire life.

He whimpers into your mouth as his sweaty hands hold you tightly against his body.

“It’s...fuck I’m sorry, I’m sor- I'm cumming.” He chokes out, his grip tightening intensely as his hips weakly jerk with the force of his release.

He says your name as he cums inside of you, trying his best to kiss you properly but, it’s wet and sloppy.

You don’t care though, you ride him through his orgasm, keeping your lips connected.

“There you go, cum for me baby...” You coo, kissing all over his face as the pleasure continues to wrack his senses.

Jungkook knows his never cum harder in his life and, by the time his orgasm settles down, he’s properly spent.

He doesn’t completely register the feeling of you sliding off of him as his whole body is alight with tingles.

You make sure to clean him up, pressing gentle kisses to his stomach as you do.

You didn’t cum this time and, to be honest, it doesn’t really matter.

What you’ve both just experienced was too intimate to measure and, orgasms weren’t really the point this time.

Tucking into your boyfriend’s body you bring him close, tugging the duvet over his shoulders this time...

“Hi” He whispers, tucking his face shyly into your neck, his breathing not fully recovered.

“Hi you...”  

With a smile on your mouth, you press a kiss to his head, holding him tightly to you.

He kisses your chest, feeling ridiculous at how shy he suddenly feels, “I think-” He stops himself to peek up at you, a bit of moisture in his eyes, “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your heart throbs at his confession, kissing his lips once more before whispering, “I think I am too.”

Jungkook knows you didn’t finish and, he plans on addressing that when he settles down but right now, all he can do is hold you.

He thinks he’s finally figured it out:

You can’t plan a perfect moment because, perfection just doesn’t exist.

But as along as he’s with you, it doesn’t really matter.

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 25

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2005

It was the semi-finales for girl’s lacrosse. Miraculously, I was made captain as a freshman. Which meant, for some reason, people were offended and thought that I should be picked on more. Fact of the matter is that lacrosse is a game of strategy. Together; with the help of my teammates, we would play to win. Being captain wasn’t a choice, Finstock made me captain and the role was a big shoe to fill. But here we are, semi-finales.

As we made our way out to the play, I looked at the stands. Mom, Dad, Uncle Noah, Stiles, Scott on one end. Laura and Derek on the other side. 

There were fifteen minutes left in the game, the score was tied. We needed to make one more goal to win and get to the finales. For this next play, I was face to face with the other team captain, waiting for the pearl to be thrown. 

“You don’t deserve to be captain.” The girl glared, her eyes looked like they wanted to melt through my helmet and into my brain. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I worked my ass off for four years to be captain. What makes you so special?” 

I blinked at her, a little confused as to where this hostility was coming from, “I’m just playing a game.” 

“A real captain knows the lacrosse is more than a game.” She smirked, “When we win this, I’m getting a scholarship to So Cal, so why don’t you just do what freshman do best and lose.” On one hand I felt bad for her. She probably had parents that pushed and pushed for her to be the best. And I also felt bad because I knew we were gonna win.

The ref blew the whistle starting play. And everything was going according to plan. That was until I was passed the pearl. I ran with it, tossing it to another player. Meaning that it was completely unnecessary for me to be tackled and would be considered aggressive. But that didn’t stop the other captain from using her entire body to slam me into the ground. One minute I was standing and the next I had was on the ground. My chest felt tight, like I was straining to breathe. When I opened my eyes, I saw her face over mine, smirking down at me. 

“HEY!” I heard Finstock’s booming voice, “Ref! Aren’t you gonna call that?!” No whistle, either the ref hadn’t seen it or he was allowing it. But Derek wasn’t allowing it. I heard multiple shouts and then watched the player who stood above me get shoved away, Derek replaced her. He knelt down, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Derek, what are you doing?” I groaned. 

“Can you get up?” He asked, trying to help me sit up. I hissed at the movement. 

Derek turned back to the bench, “Get a medic!” And only then did the whistle blow. The girl had given plenty of excuses, but they still gave her team a three minute penalty that made them lose the game. Looks like I had been right. 

I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with a concussion but I would be fine just in time for the finales. The whole time in the waiting room, in the room itself, and even when we got home, Derek had been right beside me, holding my hand.

- 

I had grown to hate hospitals and everything about them since the last time I had been to one I had been stabbed. The gowns with the open backs that were way too open to the public. That smell that was a cross between cleaner and the latex and rubber of gloves. The beds that were as hard as a rock and were covered in paper that would crinkle and make noise even if you weren't moving. That apprehensiveness that would build up in your stomach every time you heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Thankfully, I didn't have to go through any of that. Since I was a pregnant werewolf, going to the hospital in Beacon Hills was a definite no-no, so the next best option is Dr. Deaton, a veterinarian and a makeshift supernatural doctor. Not to mention a full blown druid in this day and age. But from what I've learned in the past couple years, old magic was very much alive. 

I was sitting on the metal table used for the animals, swinging my legs back and forth, waiting for Deaton to come back from getting my medical records emailed to him by Melissa. He could have gotten them himself, he just figured it would be less illegal if he got them from a nurse. 

Thoughts were racing through my head for no rhyme or reason. Since I became a werewolf, every scar or scratch on my body had become only a memory. My stab wound, the acid burns on my legs, the cuts on my face from being tortured all those months ago which really felt more like a lifetime. It had been a different life, a life fabricated through magic and spells. A life that almost didn't feel like mine anymore.

"Sorry, for the wait, (Y/N)." Deaton walked into the room, his eyes scanning over the stack of papers in his hands.

"You're alright, Doc." I smiled, leaning back on my hands, "So how am I looking?"

“Very pregnant.”

"Nothing gets past you, huh?” I smirked. To be fair, I was approaching the three and a half month mark. Deaton smiled, taking my vitals and a vial of blood. 

“So I’ve been made aware that Mr. Hale is the father.” He said, pressing a cotton ball to my skin after removing the needle, “How's that going?"

“About as well as you can imagine.” 

“So not at all?” He asked. I nodded, shrugging my shoulders. 

"Everything looks normal," He smiled as he wrote everything down on his clipboard, "Just need to get a look at the little guy." He looked up, "You said it was a boy, right?" He asked, moving over to get the sonographer that I’m sure had never been used on a human before.

“Unless the baby’s sprouting a third arm. That'd be cool." I smiled, “But yeah, that’s what the ultrasound tech in Scotland said.”

He chuckled and shook his head, "Alright, lay back and lift your shirt up." I laid back on the table, lifting my shirt up. The jelly he put on my stomach was cold and reminded me of the goo that had encased Jackson when he was a lizard person. He moved the sensor over my stomach and looked into the monitor. Ultrasounds were usually a little hard to see anyway, just like a fancy warschak paintings. And the fetus? Kinda like a funky jellybean.

“There we are.” He grinned, “Little werewolf.”

Craning my neck, I looked up at him, "You can tell he's a werewolf?"

"No.” He took the monitor off, handing me a paper towel so I could wipe off my stomach, “But odds are since his parents are both werewolves, it would make sense that the child would be also. However, you had the dormant gene, maybe your child will too." He turned off the sonographer.

“Have any names picked out?”

"I have a few... I liked Jacob, which Derek hated because it was too ‘Twilight’. Then there's one other but I don't know about it." The name that Derek loved more than anything for some reason, "Nicholas." And damn was it good. 

"What about Nicholas Jacob? Just use both of them." 

"Or I could name him after Stiles" I smirked to myself, "Mieczyslaw Nicholas.”

"Maybe that would be a little too much."

“Stiles is a little too much.” I smiled to myself

-

"So Nicholas?" Sheriff looked at me from across the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. I hummed and nodded, sipping my hot cocoa.

"Nicholas?” He asked again.

"Mieczyslaw?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

He raised his eyebrows, "It was his mother's father's name." 

“I remember Grandpa Mitch, trust me." I smiled, holding my mug in both hands, “I was thinking maybe Nicholas Noah.” I avoided looking in his eyes. Emotional talks were never really his strong suit, especially after Aunt Claudia. I wanted to honor him somehow.

He smiled, blinking a few times, “Sounds pretty good to me.” After a moment he asked: "What are you going to do now?"

I finished my drink and stood up to put it in the sink, "My plan, right now at least, is that I'm going to stay here to have the baby... Then...” I washed out the mug, “Then I'm not sure. I don't know if I want to go back to Scotland or stay here." He stood up as well and pulled me into his arms for a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him, blinking my own tears away. 

Uncle Noah stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, "Whatever your decision, I'll be there for you. Whenever you need me. I'll always, always be there for you." 

-

My pajamas had taken a turn for the worst. No more t-shirts and shorts, it’s moo moos and nightgowns from now on. I pulled my night gown over my head, smoothing out the skirt. Did I look like I had raided a grandmother’s closet? Absolutely. I looked down at my stomach, rubbing my hand over my bump.

"Are you a little alien?" I smiled after a moment, listening deeply to his little heartbeat, “Nice.” I glanced over at my desk, then pulled back my blankets to get into bed. I stopped, my head snapping back towards the window where there were red eyes staring back at me. 

 Now, if this was two years ago I would be losing my mind over the fact that there were red eyes staring at me. But since I've gone through emotional Hell, I was feeling rather annoyed by some alpha that just thought they could mosey around my house, around my window, and around my goddamn personal space. I stalked over to the window and slammed it open. 

"Listen, pal, you have about five seconds to get out my yard or I swear by all that is damnable, I will put you through so much pain that your great-grandchildren will be sore."

The eyes came closer, revealing a familiar crooked jaw, "Nice to see you too." 

"You could have just come through the front door, ya know? If Stiles can make a spare key to your house, then he can make you one for his." Scott only looked at me seriously. It was like the kid from three months ago was gone and all there was left was a battle hardened man. 

"Can I please come in?" I stepped away from the window, watching him crawl inside and stand up.

"I've been great, Scott, I've only been in Scotland for months, crying and wondering why none of my friends or family were contacting me. How have you been?" Was it petty? Absolutely, but the hormones were raging. Even if Derek told everyone to stop talking to me, what hold did he have over anyone when Scott was around?

"I'm sorry about that, I really am. But I came to-"

I cut him off, after finally connecting, "Who did you kill?"

“What?”

"To become an alpha, who did you take it from?" 

"I didn't kill anyone!” He said in an exasperated voice, “Why does everyone ask that? Not killing people has been my thing since Peter bit me." He ran his hand through his shorter hair, it suit him.

It then dawned on me. The one thing that had little to no documentation of. Even the Lunar Circle had just the basics. It was the stuff of legend, a hear say. I didn't think it was possible. 

"A true alpha." He stared at me for a second and blinked a couple times.

"You're a true alpha." I grinned, "Oh my god, Scott, this is unbelievable." I grabbed his shoulders and gave them a slight squeeze, "Tell me everything. I wanna know how it happened and what situation you were in. How were you feeling? Were you hurt? Was your body under so much stress that it just happened?”

Scott grabbed my hands and placed them by my sides, "(Y/N), maybe another time I came here for a reason."

"Oh, right, of course." Probably looking ridiculous, “What’s on your mind?”  

"I really don't think it's safe for you here." 

"Here we go agai-" 

"Will you just listen to me before you start whining?" He growled. That certainly shut me up. I raised my eyebrows at him, but I guess I should hear him out. I motioned for him to continue.

"I'm not so much worried about you.” He said, “I know you can take care of yourself. I'm worried about..." He paused, "Uh..." 

“Nicholas.”

"Yeah, I'm worried about Nicholas." He sat in my computer chair and leaned forward, "The pack we're facing don't care who they kill or why, all they want is to hurt us. You're my friend, (Y/N). I don't want anything to happen to you. And I don't want anything to happen to your kid. Please." He rolled forward and took my hands in his, "Please, go back to Scotland. I promise you, you won't be in the dark. You don't deserve to be left out. I'll call myself, and if not me, Stiles will. It's not safe for you.” I looked down, gnawing on my lip. Scott was right, he was completely right. It wasn't safe. I couldn't be a tough alpha when I had so much to live for. Keeping this kid safe is my top priority. As much as I wanted to stay home, it wasn’t safe.

"You'll tell me when it's safe to come back?" 

"You have my word." 

I sighed, looking up at him with a half-smile, "I may be stubborn as hell, but that doesn't mean I can't admit when someone's right. And you're right, Scott. I'll go." 

He closed his eyes, like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He dropped my hands and rolled back, "I'm so glad you agreed with my first speech, if you hadn't I would have been improvising for my life." He chuckled.

Shaking my head, I grinned at him, “It’s good to see you again.” 

“It’s good to see you too.”

- 

"So you're going back?" Uncle Noah looked over his coffee with tired eyes, spying my luggage that had only been unpacked for two days. It was a new day and another plane ride.

"It's not safe for me. It's not safe for any of you." I rested my head on his shoulder, "But I know that will never stop you from helping the ones you care about." 

A small smile pulled at his lips, "You're way too good at reading me." 

"Well, I've only known you my whole life." 

He set down his coffee and hugged me tight, like this was the last time he would see me. I know he was worried about me and Stiles, it was in his nature. This was the best option for me. As much as I wanted to stay and fight. I couldn't fight if my child was kidnapped and hell knows what would happen to him. 

Giving him one last squeeze, I pulled away, the honking outside meant that Stiles had pulled in and was ready to drop me off at the airport. 

"I'll call you when I land. Or text you. Depends on the time." I kissed his cheek, "Bye Uncle Noah." 

“Goodbye, sweetheart. Stay safe." I kissed his cheek. My head held high, I grabbed my bag and my rolling luggage and went out the door. Stiles grabbed my bags, opening the back of Roscoe to throw my luggage in. That was until a familiar black Camero pulled into the driveway, blocking Stiles in. 

"God. Dammit." I muttered to myself. My life was just going swell, wasn't it? I looked down at my stomach and sighed. I felt the burn of acid reflux in my throat, my child showing obvious discomfort as well. Me too, little man. Me too. 

There was no way around it, I couldn’t leave without talking with him. Not that I should have to begin with. I sucked. 

Derek got out of the car, coming around quickly and standing in front of me. 

“Derek, I don’t think you should be here.” Stiles stepped forward. Very sweet, but realistically Stiles wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing against Derek. They stared each other down, the air just filled with masculinity.

“Stiles...” I said, grabbing my bags, “If he wants to take me to the airport, let him.” 

Stiles eyes widened, “You’re really giving him the time of day? Really?” 

Sighing, I pulled Stiles into my arms and hugged him tightly. He hesitated, but hugged me back. 

“I know that this seems like a bad idea, and most of my ideas are bad, but I got this. Trust me.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, “I love you.” He pulled away, looking between Derek and I. 

“I love you too. Scott and I will let you know when it’s safe to come back.”

“You better.” I turned back to Derek, trying to keep up the attitude I had to keep Stiles at ease. I held out my bags. He took them without a word and we both started the trip to the airport. It was hard to get a read on him at the moment. He emotions were dull, nothing that stood out. He still looked as tense as ever. His brows were knitted together and his piercing green eyes looked hard. 

“So...” He said after a while, “What are you going to do about...” He trailed off. 

“Him?” I looked down at my stomach, “I’m just preparing and getting ready for him. I picked a name too. Nicholas.” 

A small smile pulled at his lips, but he hid it, “Hmm.” 

“Derek....” Now or never, “I just need to know why?” 

He inhaled deeply, “I wish I could tell you. I don’t even remember it happening. Like I was under a spell and I couldn’t break out of it.” So he had experienced what I had when I was under Matt’s control. In this situation, in Beacon Hills, there was no reason not to believe him. His heart told me it was true. 

“I’m sorry that I hit you.” 

“I don’t blame you.” He glanced over at me, “If I felt the same thing you did, I would probably lose control too.” 

“I’m tired of people taking advantage of you. If I see that bitch-” I hadn’t realized that my eyes had turned red. 

“(Y/N)...” He reached over his right hand, placing it on my knee, “Calm down.” I took a deep breath and leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. Just the simplest touch could calm me down and it was something that I missed. 

“Nicholas, huh? I like it.”

Happiness welled up in my chest, “I sure hope so since you picked it.” 

“I didn’t think you liked it.” 

I sat back up and opened my eyes, “What are you talking about? I’ve always liked that name.”

“Riiiiight.” 

By the time the conversation ended, we were at the airport. I reached for the handle to open the door when he reached over to stop me. 

“I let you leave alone last time, I’m walking you in."

We got inside and checked in, the only thing left was for me to board. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't take me to the airport last time, because now that he was here, I didn't want to leave him.

"How selfish would it be for me to ask you to drop your life here and come with me?" I leaned on his arm.

"Very. Trust me, the thought crossed my mind. I'm needed here. I have to be here for Cora."

I smiled slightly, "We're gonna get through this. Soon we'll be together again and we can have that big happy family that you deserve. That we deserve."

Derek sighed, resting his head on top of mine, "Is it cliche to hope that this all ends tomorrow?" 

My smile faltered, "Don't believe in miracles, Derek."

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Read part 26 here!

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[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance

Here it is!!!!! First chapter of my first fic on my new AO3! This is a multi-chapter, slow burn work. Please let me know what you think, I welcome screaming and incoherent asks about our fave special agent in my inbox. Full text under the cut, or you can find it through the AO3 link below.

AO3 link

Summary:  You're the BAU's newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 1, Coffee Stains and Neckties

Words: 2388

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Warnings: Not much for this chapter specifically, but let’s just assume general gore and murder stuff, explicit language, and sexual content are fair game form here on out.

Enjoy! I’ll try to update weekly, if not more often. I’ll let you know when I have a more defined schedule!

“Fucking SHIT!”

You cursed as you felt the (very, very) hot coffee soak your new skirt. Grabbing as many paper towels as you could with one hand, you tried to sop up the mess on the floor. The stain on your outfit? A shame, but nothing compared to marring the assuredly expensive cream color of the BAU’s breakroom carpet.

A low chuckle sounded off behind you, and you froze.

For the love of god, please don’t be…

“Morgan! Please tell me you have carpet cleaner, oh my god. I don’t even know how that happened.”

Morgan grinned, as he typically did, sauntering into the breakroom with his hands in his pockets. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, the janitor's got it later. I was looking for you, team meeting in five. You all good? You look a little - ” he paused, probably searching for a descriptor that wouldn’t sting too bad, “ - rushed.”

You stood up, sighing. He was right, after all. You had stayed up late last night poring over psychology textbooks and only just woken up in time to leave your apartment. As the BAU’s newest profiling intern - whatever the hell that actually meant - the pressure of performing to seasoned profilers’ standards manifested in spending practically all your free time buried in research. Hence why your hair was coated in unbelievable amounts of dry shampoo, you were wearing your unflatteringly oversized glasses instead of your usual contacts, and why your frantic attempt at pouring yourself a cup of coffee when you got into work had resulted in the giant wet spot currently soaking your skirt.

At least the skirt was black.

“You’re right. Late night,” you said, rolling your eyes at Morgan’s suggestive eyebrow waggle.

“Not like that, I wish. Just trying to catch up. Don’t really want to repeat last week’s disaster,” you mumbled, referring to the first time you actually got to question a suspect, which had ended up with a wad of saliva hawked in your face. It was only your third week in the position, but damn, if that hadn’t let the wind out of your sails a bit.

“Hey, what did I tell you then?” Morgan asked, as you walked out of the breakroom together. “You’re not a true profiler until you get assaulted by a serial killer!”

“I’m not a true profiler until I finish the year long training program,” you pointed out, “so I think I could do without the spit in the meantime.”

Morgan laughed, opening the door of the team’s briefing room for you. “Well if we’d known you were gonna be so picky, we might have gone with someone else.”

“Who’s picky?” asked Emily, looking up from her seat.

While Morgan laughed and launched into a dramatic retelling of the event as if the entire team hadn’t already fucking seen it in real time, you took your seat at the table. Reid nodded in acknowledgment, and you returned it with a small smile. Damn if he wasn’t handsome, and ridiculously smart to boot, but you were pretty sure your chances with him withered and died when you asked him what he was doing after work last Friday and he answered with, “Reading.” Point taken.

Hotch swiveled in his chair to face the table and you suddenly became acutely aware of how much of a mess you probably looked. It’s not that you cared about his opinion regarding your general appearance beyond the basic standard of professional attire, but his always-intense gaze and stony expression had a way of making you second guess even your most confidently held opinions.

“Sit,” he said, his voice cutting through the rest of the team’s animated chatter.

It would have been hard not to notice how quickly they obliged, not out of fear, but rather a respect and deference so deeply ingrained that it almost gave you goosebumps. You’d never thought of yourself as a follower, per say, but if Hotch was what a leader looked like, you certainly didn’t fit into that category either.

He scanned the table, stopping on you. “New glasses?” he asked, with a single, slightly raised eyebrow.

“I, um, not really, just didn’t have time to put my contacts in,” you stammered.

“Hm,” Hotch said, “They look nice.”

Your cheeks suddenly felt hot, and you thanked him quickly, looking down at your shoes to conceal the pink that was probably spreading across your face. Hotch had a way of speaking that made everything he said sound like the absolute truth, which was probably why such an innocuous little compliment had disarmed you so much.

Still though, jesus christ. Get it the fuck together. You’re not Reid; you’re not smart enough to be this awkward.

Hotch, blessedly ignoring how painful you just made that interaction, addressed the team while JJ passed out files. “We have a new case. Three bodies, all found completely drained of blood in various woods, off hiking trails. Cause of death appears to be blood loss from severed carotid arteries, meaning they were likely strung up and drained before being moved to where they were discovered.”

Reid spoke up first. “Erm, what exactly do you mean by various woods?”

“That’s the unusual thing,” Hotch said, pulling up a map of the southwestern United States on the screen behind him. "Each body was found in a different state, one here, one here, and one here,” pointing to spots in California, Arizona, and Nevada. “However, local police discovered the bodies within hours of each other due to anonymous tip offs, and medical examiners estimate approximately the same time of death for all three.”

Morgan whistled lowly. “So what you’re saying is, this guy kills three victims around the same time and takes a road trip to hide their bodies in places he knows won't be discovered until he calls in.”

“That’s how it appears, yes,” Hotch confirmed.

Rossi shook his head, twirling a pen that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. “So, how are we splitting this up?”

You whipped your head in his direction. Splitting up? Of course, you should have known it’d only make sense considering the ground to be covered, but your quick mental calculations told you that there were six of them, evenly split into three groups of two, and one odd man out, both in skill and number - you.

“So, who’s getting stuck with me?” you asked, trying to beat everyone to the punch. Not that any of them would voice it, but if you couldn’t project confidence, you figured self-awareness would do.

When you entered the internship as a recent college grad around a month ago, you knew you’d be in way over your head. Everyone else on the team was a seasoned expert, and you were a 20-something with a degree in psychology who somehow managed to charm her way through the interviews of the BAU’s flagship internship program. It’s not that you weren’t smart, you were, of course, but comparatively? You were pretty sure this was shaping up to be a glorified babysitting program, and you were the baby.

“Oh, hush,” JJ said, smiling and shaking her head. You smiled back. JJ had gone out of her way to make you feel welcome, which you were unspeakably grateful for. Between her and Morgan, you sometimes felt like maybe when this year was done, you could actually belong on this team.

Hotch interrupted your pity party. “Rossi, you’re with Reid in Phoenix. JJ and Emily, you’re going to Vegas. Morgan, you and I are going to San Diego.”

He turned to you. “You’re coming with me.”

Your stomach flipped at his words. You knew he had the most to teach you, and you could observe him coordinating the entire investigation from San Diego, but the idea of your performance being directly scrutinized by your boss in such a small group made you more nauseous than excited.

“Please be aware,” he continued, “Garcia is going to have to deal with three times the inquiries as normal. I recommend you only contact her if the information you’re searching for is genuinely too difficult to find yourself.” He gave Morgan a pointed look, to which Morgan raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning.

“We’ll drop teams off as we go,” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.”

____________

As you settled into your seat on the plane, your mind spun, trying to review every piece of psychology knowledge you’d ever encountered. This wasn’t your first case, but it was the first one you got to travel for, which made it feel much more real.

The hours ticked by as the team reviewed the case. You contributed - not much, and nothing they wouldn’t have thought of without you - but it was something. Narcissist, craves attention and spotlight, physically confident enough to detain and murder three women at the same time. The method was throwing the team for a loop, however. Bleeding the victims out was clinical, relatively painless - uncharacteristic of the sexual injuries found on the corpses and the bravado with which the killer executed the rest of the crime.

When you, Hotch, and Morgan trudged off the plane in San Diego, you had been going at the potential profile for hours and even Morgan’s patience was wearing thin.

“Look, Hotch, let’s hold off on speculation until we see the crime scene in person, alright?”

Hotch nodded, and took that as a cue to head straight to the crime scene. You groaned internally - having barely showered this morning and spent half the day on a plane, your greasy hair and coffee-stained skirt would have greatly benefited from a stop at the hotel to freshen up.

It’s not like you have to look good to go stare at a patch of dirt where a dead body used to to be though, right?

____________

Turns out the aforementioned patch of dirt was actually a wooded grove off a hiking trail leading to a nude beach, much to Morgan’s delight. The site itself was uninteresting except for the way the body had been buried - covered up very securely, implying remorse, another characteristic that didn’t make sense with the initial profile.

This commonality between all three crime scenes was hotly debated on the video conference between the entire team when you got back to the hotel. Cross legged on the bed in Hotch’s hotel room, you listened to Reid and Rossi snipe back and forth on the laptop about what the burial method could mean for ten-plus minutes (“It’s clearly just a functional tool to properly hide the body, Reid.” “But you don’t know that, the significance of burial practices can tell us so much more beyond function, it can even tell us about his religious upbringing…”) before Hotch put a stop to it.

“What do you think?” Hotch asked you, turning and looking directly into your gaze. You were suddenly hyperware of the proximity between you two - sitting close enough on the edge of the bed that your thighs were almost touching. Morgan had abandoned his position on the other side of you to stretch out in the armchair by the window halfway through Rossi and Reid’s debate. Hotch’s eyes boring into yours from only a few feet away and the expectant silence of the other team members on the video call spiked your heart rate, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

“I… agree with Dr. Reid. I think it means something. The position of the hands, they were crossed across the chest, right? He didn’t need to do that. I don’t know if it means he was remorseful, but it was on purpose. I think.”

Hotch nodded, not breaking eye contact. “Good. Let's move forward with that theory.” He turned back to the laptop. “Let me know how interviews with the loved ones go tomorrow. Let’s find the connection between the victims. Call me if you need anything.” After shutting the laptop, he turned to you and Morgan. “Let’s call it for tonight. Meet me in the lobby at 7 tomorrow.”

Having been excused, you and Morgan made your way to your hotel rooms next to Hotch’s. Morgan wished you goodnight, and you unlocked your door and practically sprinted into your shower.

After you got out, you looked around the room, towel drying your hair. It was nice, much nicer than anywhere you’d ever stayed. The abstract art on the walls and the modern, clean white lines of the furniture were lit by the soft glow of the sunset filtering through the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony overlooking the ocean. You poured yourself a glass of wine from the minibar (a reimbursable travel expense, right?) and stepped onto the balcony, breathing in the ocean air.

“Nice night, hm?”

You jumped, nearly spilling your drink down your front for the second time in less than 24 hours. Hotch was sitting in a chair on his balcony to the left of yours, reclining with his hands behind his head. Despite wearing nothing but your thin hotel robe, you felt the urge to avert your eyes from him. His suit jacket was shucked, tie undone and hanging around his neck, and the top two buttons of his white, collared shirt were unbuttoned. You felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t have, like the cold stoniness of his exterior had shifted just slightly and allowed you a glimpse underneath.

It’s just a couple buttons, calm down. You’re the one who’s barely clothed in front of your fucking boss.

“It is. Shame we can’t go to the beach,” you replied, keeping your eyes forward.

Oh my god, three women were murdered and I just complained to my boss about not being able to go to the beach.

“You’re welcome to get up early and go tomorrow; might be a bit cold,” Hotch replied. You could tell from his voice he was smiling.

You mumbled in affirmation, continuing to avoid glancing in his direction. “Well, I just wanted to see the view, um, I’m gonna get to bed. Goodnight, Agent Hotchner!” You ducked back into your room, and you could have sworn you heard him chuckle before you slid the door shut.

After getting ready, beating yourself up mentally for your complete social incompetence, and tucking in under the plush, white duvet, you drifted off to sleep.

[jingabitch]

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.2

Summary: When you were ten, Taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. Now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

Pairing: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

Warnings: smut | talk of ownership (reader is tae’s pet human) | (eventual) daddy long legs syndrome | masturbation (m) | tae goes into heat | dubcon because of the heat | somewhat (?) unhealthy relationship

Word count: 10.7k

A/N: Did this girl bang out 3000-odd words in one night so that she could post it before Chinese New Year so that she could reach 888 followers by CNY? Yes. Yes she did. I hope you guys enjoy this, and please share and follow for more if you liked it!!

Also, I don’t do tag lists, so please don’t ask. This story is cross-posted on ao3 (link to account on my blog) so you can subscribe there.

Series index

You’d learned years ago what Taehyung was like in the weeks leading up to his heat. Overly moody, grumpy, and most of all, hungry. It was probably his body trying to load up on calories before five or so days where there was intense physical exertion without much opportunity to eat.

 It had never been an awkward thing for you – after all, werewolf heat was a basic part of their biology, so no one made a big deal out of it. And since they never said anything about your own cycle, you afforded them the same courtesy, just taking it in your stride and doing your best to make it easier on them.

 So it wasn’t surprising to you when one day in the middle of winter, Taehyung wolfed down (ha) his breakfast at twice his usual speed and then started looking furtively over at your plate. Sighing, you just pushed it towards him and went to make yourself something else. You made a mental note to make more food tomorrow, and braced yourself for the coming few weeks, where he would be alternately clingy and grumpy – or, interestingly enough, both at the same time.

 His heats were never a big deal for you – if he had a heat partner, you mostly stayed out of his way, and stayed with the other boys instead. They were always more than happy to spend a whole week spoiling you and getting cute cuddles. If he didn’t, you usually ended up being the one to take care of him since the others had their own schedules and were out of the house most days. It wasn’t anything much – you just checked in on him once in a while, made sure he was eating and drinking water, and maybe wiped him down if he was too sweaty.

 You didn’t expect that anything would change this year, although obviously you’d missed his last two heats, which he’d spent in the military facility. In preparation for his heat, you went to the supermarket and stocked up on food that would be easy for him to eat, like fruit and granola bars, making sure to pick his favourite brand which was, obviously, an extremely fancy and overpriced one.

 While you continued your preparations for his heat, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, Taehyung was an absolute mess. Ever since his preheat started, he’d been racking his brains for a solution to the problem that wouldn’t arouse your suspicion, and coming up empty. There was no way he could get rid of you for a week without you figuring out something was up, since you knew he didn’t have a heat partner and it had never been a thing before for you to leave.

 Everything was, of course, made more complicated by the fact that the closer he got to his heat, the more he didn’t want you to leave. He would wake up in the middle of the night wrapped around you, his face tucked into your neck and his hands gripping your waist possessively, and he would be burning up, panting for you.

 You, of course, didn’t suspect a thing, and it truly was a testament to how comfortable you were with him that you weren’t noticing anything amiss. It really was remarkable how much could go over your head if you weren’t looking for it. If nothing else, the fact that he’d taken good enough care of you over the years that you were so complacent and comfortable around him was slight comfort. He knew your time at the shelter hadn’t been the best, and he was pleased that he’d managed to earn your trust, even if it did increase his guilt at taking advantage of it now.

 His last hope, that he was clinging on to by a thread, was that since his heat was intended for the purpose of breeding, maybe he wouldn’t fixate on you. After all, you were human – you should be incompatible with him in that way. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to go on.

 Although really, anyone could have told him that that was a stupid plan. But since he’d refused to let anyone know what was going on, there was no one around to shake some sense into him.

  His heat hit while he was at the studio. It had been a bad idea to go to work today, he knew it when he took three bites of the giant breakfast you’d cooked and turned his nose up at the rest of it, but they were starting to record their new song and he’d wanted to be there.

 Unfortunately, his enthusiasm meant that when his heat hit in the afternoon, he was in the studio instead of comfortably waiting at home. The bright lights and sheer number of scents overwhelmed his senses, and he ended up curled in a corner of the room, desperately closing his eyes and trying to shut the world out, his head between his knees. His ears flicked repeatedly, before laying flat against his head in distress.

 “Shit… we need to get him home,” Yoongi said, watching him groan pitifully, but when they tried to coax him to move, he refused, completely non-functional by this point and so uncomfortable that he couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Jimin tried to sit with him, hoping that his familiar scent would block out some of the harsher scents in the room, like the floor cleaner, but Taehyung just groaned and turned his face away, burying it in his shoulder. The rest of them looked on worriedly – his heat symptoms had never been this bad before.

 Left without any other option, Namjoon called you, hoping that the familiar scent of home would soothe Taehyung enough to stop being a moaning mess on the floor of their studio long enough to go home and ride out the heat.

 You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Hearing that Taehyung was in trouble spurred you to all but fly out of your house, speeding all the way to the studio in his extra car that he never let you drive. It was lucky that you’d learned how to drive in Geochang, you thought as you zipped into the parking lot at the BigHit building and raced up to the studio.

 You burst into the room dramatically, panting from your exertion, and immediately zeroed in on Taehyung, who seemed to be feeling a little better than what you’d been led to believe, if the way he’d sat up and was looking at you was any indicator. His ears perked up too, indicating that he was no longer as distressed as he’d been just a minute ago.

 “Hey,” you said softly as you approached slowly, not wanting to freak him out since his animal instincts were closer to the surface than usual. And, if you were being honest, the way his gaze fixated on you was almost predatory, triggering your flight instincts. Reassuring yourself that Taehyung would never hurt you, you continued to inch closer to him.

 “How you doing, Tae-oppa?” you asked softly, getting on your knees next to him and pushing his sweaty bangs off his forehead. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the touch, and you wondered at his over-the-top reaction. Just how deep was he into his heat?

 You made to pull your hand back, not wanting to cause him any more discomfort than necessary, but his hand shot up and grabbed your wrist. “Y/n…” he shuddered as he breathed your name. “You came,” he continued, looking up at you far more intensely than you thought the situation warranted, his long fingers stroking your wrist gently.

 Hesitantly, you replied, “Uhh, yeah, Namjoon-oppa called me to come get you. Come on, let’s get you home,” you urged, trying to pull your hand away, but he tightened his grip around your wrist and made that impossible. You raised your brow at him, wondering why he insisted on staying in that corner instead of going home where he had pajamas, nice soft sheets on his bed, and could draw the curtains so the light didn’t hurt his eyes, but he stood up quite easily without letting go of you and started tugging you out of the room.

 “Uh, okay then,” you mumbled, utterly confused now. When Namjoon had called you, he’d been almost panicked, describing what bad shape Taehyung was in and getting you all worried, but the man in front of you seemed completely fine. A little off-kilter, maybe, but that was only to be expected since he was going through heat, after all.

 “Bye, oppas!” you said, waving at them as Taehyung pulled on your wrist, leading you down the hall and towards the elevator.

 “Well, you look pretty good for someone in heat,” you told him as you waited for it to arrive, looking him up and down assessingly. “When Namjoon-oppa called me he was so panicked, and I freaked out too, but he must have been exaggerating,” you chattered on to fill the silence. You understood that Taehyung wasn’t really in the mood to make conversation right now, but somehow his intense gaze made the quiet feel a little uncomfortable.

 The elevator doors opened with a ding, and your attention was momentarily taken away from Taehyung, so you didn’t see the way he shuddered. It wasn’t that he was feeling better, it was that his heat had found a target, and all that shaky, general horniness and misery had turned into laser focus on you. You walked into the elevator with that little bounce in your step, and he followed after you, almost stalking you with how predatory his gait and gaze were.

 You stopped and turned around in the middle of the lift, your eyes lifting habitually to the display on top of the doors, but Taehyung didn’t stop walking, bumping against you and causing you to drop your gaze to him. You gasped at the hungry expression on his face, but it didn’t deter him from backing you up against the wall. You squeaked in surprise as your back hit the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs, and in the second that it took you to get your bearings back, he’d moved his hands from the wall on either side of your shoulders to your waist, pulling you tightly to him as he buried his nose in your neck.

 You just about jumped out of your skin when you felt his erection pressing against you, and your mind immediately leapt to work rationalizing it away. He was in heat, it was normal for him to have a boner, and it definitely had nothing to do with you, you tried to convince yourself. He was scenting you because you smelled familiar, like home, and it was comforting for him.

 Trying not to squirm away in discomfort so you could help him, you stroked his hair in what you thought was a soothing gesture. “Tae-oppa, you okay?” you asked softly.

 He groaned in response. “You smell so good,” he said, sniffing you aggressively as he pressed you into the wall. You gulped and looked up at the numbers flashing on the screen, indicating that you were close to the basement now. The moment the elevator door opened, you pulled away under the guise of leaving the elevator, and hurried to the car.

 Taehyung insisted that he wanted to take the car he’d driven here back home, as it was more comfortable, but then refused to hand you the keys so you could drive, instead forcing you to fish them out of his front pocket. He’d boxed you in with his body against the car while you’d done it, too, staring at you so intently that it made your face heat as you averted your gaze, trying to grab his keys without any accidents.

 When the keys were finally in your hands, you slipped into the driver’s seat, trying to avoid staring at Taehyung as he went around to the other side of the car and slid gracefully into the passenger seat. You didn’t know what was going on, but you weren’t prepared for any of this, and it was making you slightly uncomfortable, especially because you couldn’t be sure that you didn’t like it. As inappropriate and wrong as all of this was, as much as you knew that this was just because of his heat and to entertain any fantasies would be taking advantage of him in this vulnerable state, there was a part of you that felt a sliver of interest. That, under all the fear and discomfort, had thrilled at having

 As you started the car, you studiously ignored Taehyung. He huffed and undid the top few buttons on his shirt, then fiddled with the seat so that he was in a more comfortable reclining position. Your mind raced as you drove home – he’d never acted like this with you before, and you wondered if he was okay. The heat seemed to be worse than in previous years, and he must be really out of it by now. Was it even possible for him to get through this heat without a partner?

 At a red light, you snuck a glance over at him, relieved to see that his eyes were closed and he seemed to have fallen into a light doze. That was good, you thought, your heart warming at seeing his cute sleeping face. He should get some rest while he could, because it seemed like this heat would be hard on him. Your heart squeezed – it seemed unfair that hybrids had to go through this, and you wondered why on earth your ancestors had created hybrids this way.

 After parking the car, you looked over at him and bit your lip. You didn’t really want to wake him up now that he seemed to be sleeping rather comfortably, but unfortunately there was no way that you would be able to carry a fully grown hybrid back to his apartment, so reluctantly, you reached over to shake him awake.

 “Tae-oppa?” you called quietly. “We’re home.”

 He stirred and looked at you with half-closed eyes, before nodding listlessly, and you felt like the scum of the earth for even entertaining the thought that his earlier actions were an advance, and especially for that tiny bit of arousal that you’d experienced feeling his erection dig into your belly earlier. He was clearly in a vulnerable position, and here you were, misinterpreting his actions and taking advantage of him by enjoying what his hormones were making him do.

 It would do you well to remember that it was your ancestors who had made him like this. In a way, it was kind of your fault that he had to go through it, and you promised him silently that you would do whatever it took to help him through this.

 You slid out of the car, then hurried over to the other side to help him out. He seemed a little woozy and weaker than normal, but otherwise fine, and even managed to get himself back to the apartment without any difficulty. A light sheen of sweat coated him by the time you’d reached the apartment, though, and he made to go straight to the bedroom, but you managed to coax him to take a shower first since it wasn’t likely that he would get another one before his heat ended.

 “Tae-oppa?” you called as he was headed into the bathroom, already stripping his shirt off.

 He grunted in acknowledgement, but didn’t turn around or stop.

 “Do you want me to call someone to help you with your heat? Maybe Minhee-unnie, or Haeun-unnie?” you suggested some of his previous heat partners, girls he’d hooked up with regularly in the past. There were also services that provided heat partners, but you didn’t know if anyone would be available on such short notice.

 Taehyung thought about it. It would probably be smart to find a partner to ride this heat out – it was hitting far stronger than he’d anticipated and he could scarcely think straight, especially now that he was in the apartment where your scent was so incredibly intense and mixed so thoroughly in with the smell of home – but the thought of having a heat partner strangely made him feel almost sick.

 “No, it’s okay,” he responded brusquely, too out of it to temper his tone, and closed the door behind him in the bathroom.

 Shivering, he stripped out of the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the handle to the coldest setting possible. He hissed and growled in displeasure as the ice cold water hit his skin, but he knew it was necessary. He was burning up, way too hot for a usual heat, and even in his compromised state of mind, he knew that this could be dangerous if he didn’t cool down, and quickly.

 The cold shower didn’t do much for the desire raging through him, though, and he rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower stall and groaned. He was completely losing it, he could tell, and probably terrorizing you. He felt like an awful owner. You were so innocent and good, coming to get him from the studio, and he’d responded by basically assaulting you in the elevator earlier.

 “Fuck!” he growled, slamming his fist into the wall. Even knowing that he was garbage wasn’t enough to stop him from recalling how amazing you’d smelled, how soft you’d felt under his hands, the way you’d melted against the press of his body in the elevator. You always smelled good to him, especially since he’d been discharged from the military, but today it seemed different. Better. The scent emanating from you was just slightly warmer, sweeter, spicier than the residual scent you’d left all over the apartment, including in the bathroom. In his heat-addled state, he couldn’t figure out why, but it was messing with his ability to keep his head on straight in a big way.

 With another growl of frustration, he wrapped his hand around his cock, knowing that there was no way he could go back out into the apartment in the state he was in. It was fast and rough, and his orgasm was unsatisfying, barely enough to take the edge off the all-consuming hunger that bordered on pain, but he felt his mind clear just enough that he remembered all the reasons why bending his pet human over was a bad idea.

 He got out of the shower and dried himself off perfunctorily, wrapping the towel around his waist because he hadn’t brought in fresh clothes. He was collecting his dirty clothes to drop into the laundry basket when, as he stood up, he caught sight of the box of tampons you’d left on top of the toilet. He rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance – you were always forgetting to put them back under the sink after your period was over. It was one of his biggest pet peeves, the way you would just leave things lying around and causing clutter.

 Wait a minute. He frowned again at the box. You’d had your last period a week ago, which meant…

 Fuck.

 All the pieces fell into place in his mind then, and it took massive amounts of restraint to avoid sending his fist clear through the wall. You were ovulating, which is why you smelled so good. All his hopes of not fixating on you during this heat were dashed. In previous cycles, he’d noted your ovulation because your scent had shifted, but it had never affected him much before. Now, though, that he was in heat, the scent that indicated your fertility was overwhelming, stripping all restraint from him. The mere thought of cumming into you and getting you pregnant had his wolf instincts rising, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as his erection ached and his balls drew up, desperate to fulfil their purpose.

 This isn’t right, the part of him that was still in control screamed, but that voice was quickly being drowned out by his hormones. This was bad, he needed to lock himself in his room before he did something he couldn’t take back.

 With that thought in his mind, he wrenched the bathroom door open, and the cool air from outside the bathroom felt nice and calming on his overheated skin, helping him to maintain some sanity. Thankfully, you’d gone into your room and shut the door, and he made a beeline for his own room, thinking that as long as he didn’t see or smell you, everything would be fine.

 Unfortunately, thinking that you were being helpful, you’d gone into his room while he was in the bathroom to leave some water and snacks. He could see a few bottles neatly lined up on the bedside table, and the rest of the carton was sitting on the floor in a corner of the room. You’d also arranged the energy bars and fruit on the table, within easy reach of the bed. His heart clenched at how thoughtful you were, but even the short amount of time you’d spent in his room was enough to leave traces of your scent in his room.

 Groaning, he shut the door behind him and threw himself on the bed, facedown. He landed with his face in your pillow and growled, biting down on it as he impatiently stripped the towel off and threw it into a corner. His hands clenched into fists as he swiveled his hips, pressing his painful erection into the sheets.

 In the state he was in, thoughts about how wrong it was to get himself off to your scent flew right out the window as he took deep huffs of the pillow that had become saturated with your scent from months of you sleeping on it every night. As he worked himself closer to orgasm, he imagined that instead of the residual scent you’d left in his bed, it was you, warm and soft and pliant, letting him fuck you, use your body as he needed. You’d be so sweet to him, he thought, cooing at him as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, stroking the back of his neck and letting him mark you up as he plowed into you. Even in his fantasy, he wasn’t able to be gentle with you, holding the pillow between his teeth as he imagined the tender skin of your neck and collarbone in its place. His wolf instincts running high, he shuddered as he found his release to the picture of you he held in his mind, letting him fuck a whole litter of pups into you.

 “Y/n, shit, fuck,” he groaned as he came, holding that sweet fantasy close as he rode out his orgasm. Floating high in its wake for a moment, he rolled onto his back and shut his eyes, enjoying the small aftershocks running through his body. He wished he could just stay in this moment for the rest of his heat, where the consuming need had abated somewhat, but before the clarity of mind orgasm gave him made all his guilt come flooding back.

 He was a terrible, shitty hybrid and he was definitely going to hell. The thought made his ears droop sadly, but at least you weren’t here to witness his descent into madness. You were too good to him, such a sweet pet, he mused as he grabbed one of the bottles of water you’d so kindly put within easy reach and gulping it down. He wished he at least knew why this was happening all of a sudden. He’d never heard of or read about hybrid-human relationships, even though he knew that technically he was part human as well. It was all very confusing and scary, made worse by the fact that he had to hide what he was feeling from everyone, especially you, for fear that you would see him differently. He’d worked so hard to make sure that you felt safe in his home, and all of that would go down the drain immediately if you found out how alluring he found your scent now, and how difficult a time he was having keeping his hands off you.

 In the midst of his heat, even the thought of you finding out that he was unabashedly using your scent to get off didn’t fill him with horror and shame as it should have. Instead, his mind started to conjure up fantasies of you biting your lip, cooing his name when you found what a state he’d worked himself into. Imaginary you stroked his fevered brow softly, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, then slid your hand down his body to grasp his erection as real Taehyung did the same thing.

 He’d already cum twice, so he could take his time a little more, stretch out the teasing and immerse himself in his fantasy. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip in an effort to muffle the whine he could feel building in his throat, he exhaled shakily. You’d be so sweet to him, stripping out of your clothes without him asking, leaning over him to kiss him sweetly. Your soft, gentle kisses would contrast against how confidently and tightly you were gripping his cock as you jerked him off, letting him moan and whimper into your mouth.

 He wouldn’t be pliant for long – no, even in his fantasy he was needy, burning up, and you were the only thing that could save him from certain death. It would barely be a minute of you hovering over him, your hand on his cock, before he wouldn’t be able to take any more teasing. He’d grab you and flip the both of you over, so you landed on your back with him between your legs. He shuddered at the thought, turning onto his belly with his face back in your pillow, stacking his fists under him so they made a nice, deep hole for his cock to drill into.

 You’d be wet and creamy already, letting him slide through your folds without any resistance. He thought about how soft and tight you’d be as he ran his fingers down your slit, stretching you out for his cock. Even in the state he was in, he would be careful not to hurt you, to prep you well so that when he finally took his rightful place deep inside you, there would be nothing but pleasure. Biting his lip, he slowly fucked into his fists, mimicking the way he would enter you for the first time.

 Fantasy you arched into him and moaned helplessly, your walls tightening around him rhythmically as you adjusted to his length within you, and liquid heat pooled in his lower belly as he thought about the cute, breathy sounds you would make for him. Would you beg him for more, or tell him it was too much? He rather liked the idea of being too much for you, he found, enough to ruin you for any human man or hybrid who came after him. If he had his way, you’d always be his.

 He groaned and huffed as he picked up his pace, rutting into his fists as the head of his cock brushed against the sheets. Thousand thread count sheets and yet the fabric dragged almost unpleasantly against the oversensitive flesh, far rougher than he was sure your silken heat would be.

 As he jerked himself off relentlessly, he imagined that it was you he was plowing into, biting savagely into the pillow as he imagined that it was your neck he was marking up. His climax was close now, he could feel it, and he panted heavily as he strained for it. “Please,” he grunted, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Please, I need it.”

 Like a wish granted, his orgasm washed over him, and he shuddered all over as he came to your scent again. “Y/n,” he groaned, your name like a prayer on his lips as copious amounts of cum landed in a pool on the sheets. “Fuck,” he breathed, right before he collapsed into a heat nap.

  Almost two hours had passed since you’d gone into your room. You’d spent it comfortably enough, curled into your oversized armchair reading, but it was almost dark out now and you were getting hungry.

 Putting your book down and removing the noise-cancelling headphones that ensured you’d be able to look Taehyung in the eye once his heat ended, you opened your bedroom door and poked your head out slightly hesitantly. Once, when you were thirteen, you’d been careless and just waltzed right out of Yoongi’s room and run into a very naked Taehyung gulping down water in the kitchen, and it had scared the crap out of the both of you. Needless to say, ever since then you’d checked to make sure the coast was clear before going anywhere in the apartment whenever any of them had their heats.

 When all you saw was Taehyung’s closed bedroom door further down the corridor, you slipped out of your room and into the kitchen, tying your hair back into a ponytail as you gathered up ingredients. You didn’t know if Taehyung was up to have a full meal, but if he was, a nice, soothing soybean stew ought to hit the spot. Already licking your lips in anticipation, you put the earthenware port on the stove and turned it on, humming to yourself as you prepared the food.

 When it was done, you left it on the stove and went to get Taehyung. Sometimes even during his heat he would be capable of coming to eat a meal with you, and you figured it was worth a shot. If not, you could always eat alone and leave the stew for him to reheat when he felt hungry enough.

 “Tae-oppa?” you said softly, knocking on his door.

 For a second, there was no noise from inside and you assumed he was asleep, but as you were about to walk away you heard a rustle, and then he said, in a slightly slurred tone, “Come in.”

 You opened the door, and were immediately assaulted by the smell in the room, but you tried not to wrinkle your nose as you stepped in, knowing that Taehyung would be able to see it even in the dark. “Oppa, I made dinner, do you want to come join me?”

 Your eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of the room, and you were hardly able to see anything, but you heard Taehyung moving and assumed he was coming to join you for dinner. Starting to turn around to exit the room, you were caught off guard when he instead pushed you up against the door, which in turn slammed shut. The air was knocked from your lungs and you saw stars for a moment, standing still in his grasp as you tried to figure out what just happened.

 Taehyung, however, immediately took advantage of your confusion to crowd you against the door with his body. Your frame was completely dwarfed by his, one of his hands on your hip while the other was pressed to the wood beside your ear. “You smell so goddamn good,” he groaned as he bent to press his nose to your neck.

 Now you were confused for a whole different reason, because his words, his proximity, the bare erection he was pressing into your belly, all of those things confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt what you’d earlier tried to deny to yourself. For some reason, your owner wanted you, and you didn’t know what to do.

 “Tae-oppa –” you said timidly, trying to extricate yourself from this situation, but as he dragged his tongue up the length of your neck, right to your ear, your words cut off in a choked gasp. You shuddered involuntarily, hating yourself for reacting when you knew how wrong this all was.

 “Y/n-ah, you smell so good, so ripe,” he said against your ear as he started to swivel his hips, thrusting against you. Against your will, your core clenched, and you cringed as you felt a rush of wetness escape you. Your vain hopes that he didn’t know how wet you’d become, even with his heightened hybrid senses, were dashed when he groaned again, this time a long, low sound full of agony, and pressed his lips to yours.

 You were stock still for a moment, your mind blanking out, unable to comprehend what was going on. Every instinct was screaming at you to get out of there, that this was wrong, bad, sick, but your hands wouldn’t cooperate, half stretched out but not touching him, just hovering over his body.

 “Y/n, it hurts,” he groaned, resting his head against your forehead and panting heavily. It sounded like there wasn’t enough air in the room for him, and you could empathize – the uncomfortably warm and humid atmosphere wasn’t comfortable for you, let alone a hybrid going through heat at the moment.

 “What’s wrong, oppa?” you asked, stroking your hands down his side in a bid to bring him comfort, your initial reluctance to touch him or do anything that might give him the wrong idea forgotten in your haste to do anything that might make him feel better. Even touching his bare sides confirmed to you that he was burning up, and he usually ran warmer than you did as it was. Frowning, you tried to touch his face, to see whether he was feverish enough for it to be dangerous. If there was something wrong this time – and based on his strange behavior, you were already inclined to think there was – you had to call someone to come help him immediately.

 A sob ripped through him as your hand landed on his face, and he nuzzled aggressively into your palm. “You feel okay,” you murmured, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He was warmer than usual, but not so hot that you were alarmed.

 Instead of responding to your comment, he begged again, “Please help me, Y/n-ah.” The abject misery in his tone tugged at your heartstrings, and in that moment you knew you would do anything if it prevented him from suffering any more.

 “What do you need, Tae-oppa?” you asked quietly, steeling yourself for what was pretty sure would be the reply. By this point, you weren’t even thinking about whether or not you personally wanted to do this – and you were fairly ambivalent about the whole thing, if you were being honest – and your entire paradigm shifted, with Taehyung in the center of it.

 Instead of answering with words, he bent down slightly and hoisted you up with his hands on the back of your thighs, slotting himself between them neatly as he pressed you into the door. In this position, his prominent erection rubbed against your core, like a fiery brand burning through your shorts and panties.

 You whimpered. You didn’t know which way was up – it had been so long since you’d broken up with your ex back in Geochang, and you hadn’t had any action since, and the way he was moving against you triggered every carnal instinct you possessed. At the same time, your rational mind knew that this was wrong, that he was a hybrid and you were a human. You were different species, for God’s sake, and you’d never seen him in any light other than as your owner and guardian. Somehow, though, none of that mattered when he made another pained noise.

 Hesitantly, you slipped your arms around his neck and started kissing him back. Your tentative overtures were nothing like the way he greedily devoured your mouth as a precursor to the way he wanted to eat you alive, but his reaction was dramatic enough that it didn’t seem he minded too much. Pressing you back more firmly against the door, he slipped one hand from your thigh up your camisole, his long fingers stretching up your ribcage.

 You shivered at his touch, although you weren’t sure whether it was in arousal or revulsion. Nevertheless, you steeled yourself and let him grope you, kiss you, do whatever he wanted. You were quickly realizing that you would do anything to help Taehyung, even give up your own body. After all, he was the person who had saved you all those years ago. It was the least you could do for him, no matter what your personal thoughts on the matter were.

 Still, there was something about how enthusiastically he was kissing and touching you that was incredibly persuasive, stirring something deep within you that wanted to respond in kind. Slowly, your kisses became bolder, and when you tentatively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip, his whole body shuddered in a way that made you feel powerful.

 “Fuck,” he growled, and still holding on to you, he turned and strode over to the bed, dropping you unceremoniously down on it. You’d barely landed when his hands were at work again, hooking his fingers in your waistband and pulling down your shorts and panties at the same time.

 “Fuck,” he repeated more softly this time as he dropped the discarded clothing carelessly. He levelled his body over yours, an elbow planted into the bed beside you to help balance himself as he slid his other hand down your soft belly to your pussy. You widened your legs accommodatingly to his touch, biting your lip to stay quiet when his hand slid over you, just a little too hard to be pleasurable over the sensitive flesh.

 “Shit, this heat is going to be the death of me,” he huffed, sounding more lucid now that you were under him than he had at any point before. He settled between your legs and bent his head back down to rub his nose against your neck again, but that one throwaway comment stuck in your mind, causing you to stiffen under him uncomfortably. Your stomach twisted unpleasantly in panic as you realized what you’d almost done. He was in heat, unable to think straight, and instead of protecting him from making a hormone-fueled decision that he would definitely have regretted as soon as his heat passed, you’d been about to enable it.

 Whatever arousal you might have been feeling evaporated in an instant, shame and horror filling you instead. Taehyung was so out of it that he didn’t notice the chance in your body language, but he sure as hell noticed when you tried to scramble away from him, though you weren’t very successful since his entire weight was pressing down on you, pinning you in place.

 Still, you made a little headway squirming away from him before his eyes opened wide again and he frowned down at you, pressing his hips more firmly down into you to pin you down. “Stop,” he protested. “What are you doing?”

 “Oppa, we can’t do this,” you cried out, distressed, as you continued to struggle away from him. But he was bigger and stronger than you were, and pinned you down easily.

 “Why not,” he whined, his breath ruffling the hair by your temple. He was still panting heavily as you squirmed under him, and you stopped, realizing that your movement was making the situation worse. In your despair, tears began to prick at your eyes, and the scent of your distress, cutting sharply through the intoxicating aroma of your arousal, gave him pause.

 “Baby, are you okay?” he asked with some concern, lifting himself off you slightly so that he could peer down at your face. The moment you felt his weight leave you, you used your newfound leverage to push him so hard he lost his balance, falling to the mattress next to you. You wouldn’t have been able to do it if he’d been expecting it and bracing against it, you knew, because he was just so much stronger than you naturally.

 In a flash, you were up and running for your life, sprinting for his bedroom door. You didn’t bother grabbing the rest of your clothes, knowing there was no time. Even with the head start you’d gotten on Taehyung, you knew that it would be close when he snarled and pushed himself off the bed, chasing after you.

 Shit, you swore to yourself as you ran for your bedroom. It loomed ahead of you, seeming to get further away as your vision narrowed in your panic. You could hear Taehyung thundering down the hallway after you, and with his longer stride and superior hybrid strength, he was gaining on you at an alarming pace. Even though you knew this was probably nothing for him, he was panting loudly enough for you to hear it, and you cringed as you remembered how alluring the chase was to wolves. Did Taehyung have that in common with them? You were starting to realise that despite being with him for so long, there were enormous gaps in your knowledge about him. Of course, you’d never expected that you would need to know such intimate details about him, but here you were.

 You ducked into your room and slammed the door shut just in time, wincing as you heard Taehyung crash into the solid oak with a furious snarl. You flipped the lock into place right before he started abusing the door handle, banging loudly and pulling way too hard on the handle as he yelled for you. “Y/n-ie? Baby, please unlock the door. Just talk to me, baby, I just wanna talk, I won’t do anything else, please.” He continued to beg and wheedle, his voice turning into a whine.

 Oh, God. You had no clue how to handle this, and it was turning into a nightmare. You backed away from the door, trying to give yourself as much distance as possible to think. You had to call for reinforcements, you knew. There was no way in hell you were going out there, and Taehyung was out of his mind right now.

 Running your hands through your hair in stress, you picked up the phone that you’d thankfully left on your bedside table instead of on the kitchen counter. There was only one person who could help you, you knew. Namjoon.

  You sat on the floor with your back against the door the entire time you waited for him to arrive, trying to offer Taehyung comfort and companionship without actually opening the door, which you knew would lead to something you couldn’t take back given the state he was in. He’d given up on yelling and trying to break into your room, since the door was sturdy enough to withstand his efforts to knock it down. In utter despair and misery now, he was on the floor whimpering and whining, and your heart broke with every sad, pathetic noise he made. It took everything in you not to open the door and give him what he so desperately wanted, and it was only the knowledge that he would hate himself, and you, once the heat passed that gave you the strength to resist.

 Thankfully, Namjoon had a key to the apartment, because you didn’t know how you would have gotten all the way to the front door to let him in with Taehyung still camped outside your bedroom. You knew when he arrived because Taehyung’s sad, soft whines transformed into angry growls. He was infuriated at another hybrid encroaching on what he considered to be his territory during his heat, with his bitch in the vicinity, and you were terrified that he would actually attack the older man, yet another thing that he would hate himself for when he was back in his right frame of mind.

 Grateful that you’d thought to dress yourself once you were back in your room, you opened the door, distracting Taehyung from Namjoon as he immediately attached himself to you. Patting his back while trying to keep his hands from straying to inappropriate places, it took you a moment to realize that Namjoon had brought Yoongi with him, and you squinted in confusion at the snow leopard hybrid.

 “You should stay with Yoongi until Tae’s heat passes,” Namjoon explained. “I’ll keep an eye on Taehyung.”

 That sounded like a good idea in theory, but how poorly Taehyung had reacted to having them in his apartment during his heat made you skeptical of how it would play out. Even now, Taehyung’s distraction was fading away, and he was standing protectively in front of you as he growled threateningly at the intruders.

 “His instincts are amped up because of you, for some reason. If you aren’t here anymore, he should calm down.”

 You chewed on your lip indecisively. The doubt in Namjoon’s voice made you want to protest, to reject his proposal. How could you endanger both Taehyung and Namjoon on a hunch?

 Really, though, what was the alternative? You couldn’t possibly give in to Taehyung; he would be filled with regret and self-loathing once he returned to normal, and you needed to protect him from that.

 “Okay,” you acquiesced finally. You tried to step around Taehyung to go to Yoongi, but he whipped around, alarmed.

 “Baby, what are you doing?” he asked, panicked, his arms wrapping around you immediately.

 “Oppa, let me go, please?” you begged softly, hoping futilely that Namjoon and Yoongi wouldn’t hear your conversation with him. Somehow, this felt too intimate for anyone else to witness.

 Taehyung brushed his thumb along your cheekbone, wiping away the stray tear in what had to be the most tender gesture he’d made towards you since his heat started. “Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll give you everything you need.”

 “Tae-oppa, I’ll see you after your heat, okay?” you managed, forcing the words out past the lump in your throat. “Be nice to Namjoon-oppa. I love you.” You’d said it to him so many times before, but it carried a different weight this time that you didn’t want to examine too closely.

 “Y/n-ie…” He didn’t let you go, but his grip loosened ever so slightly, and you took the opportunity to twist yourself out of his embrace, and hurried over to Yoongi. He gave you a small smile as he held his hand out to you.

 As you left the apartment with Yoongi, you heard Taehyung give a heart-rending roar, and almost said to hell with it and ran back to him. As if sensing your internal conflict, Yoongi’s hand tightened on yours, making it impossible for you to leave his side.

 You sobbed in the car all the way to Yoongi’s apartment, the reality of everything setting into you only after you’d left the situation, and the adrenaline that had kept you going left your system. You didn’t understand what was going on, but the pure misery you’d heard in Taehyung’s voice as he called out for you stayed with you. It was your fault somehow, you knew. Taehyung was suffering because of you, because of your ancestors, cruel people who’d made him the way he was for their own selfish purposes. Everything was your fault.

  For the next four days, you barely left Yoongi's guest bedroom. He gave up trying to coax you to watch Netflix with him or come to the studio to interact with the other members. Instead, he left you alone for the most part, only coming to get you when it was meal time or when he had an update from Namjoon.

 Apparently, after you'd left he'd barricaded himself in his own bedroom and hadn't left. Namjoon was trying to get him to eat a proper meal, but it was tough - thankfully, there was still the stew you'd cooked and hadn't gotten a chance to eat on the stove, because it wasn't like Namjoon was capable of cooking a nutritious homemade meal from scratch. After several attempts, Taehyung had finally allowed Namjoon to hand him the meal on a tray, which he ate in his room and left the empty dishes outside the door after.

 Apart from that, you didn't know much because he wasn't interacting with Namjoon, so your secondhand information was limited at best. It didn't really help your anxiety about the whole situation, but at least you knew he was alive, and you'd really left enough food and water in his bedroom for several heats, so there wasn't a problem on that front.

 You used the time, instead, to think about what had happened during the first day of Taehyung's heat. For the entire four days you were at Yoongi's, you basically thought about nothing else. He'd wanted you. Now that you were thinking about it in that light, a lot of the other strange things he'd been doing made a lot more sense. He wasn't just reacting to your familiar scent, or pack bond, or whatever bullshit it was that he'd been feeding you. You realised with a start that he'd been attracted to you.

 That realisation didn't make you feel better - in fact, you had more questions than before. How long had this been going on? How could this happen? Was this normal? Was he normal? And, most importantly, how did you feel about it all?

 With so much time on your hands all of a sudden, you thought about it obsessively, and cycled through almost every possible emotion.

 First came the knee-jerk reaction of disgust and horror, of course. How could this happen? How could you let this happen? You sobbed as you thought about how wrong all of this was, how weird, how inappropriate it was that Taehyung was attracted to you, a human and his pet, for God's sake. And he'd fucking lied about it too, feeding you that bullshit about his pack bond and lulling you into a false sense of security so you'd continue to stay with him, when he should have told you what was happening and let you move away as soon as he started feeling this way.

 But then - and almost against your will, because you did not want to start empathizing with him and trying to justify the shitty things he'd done to you in your mind - you started to see things his way. If it was so wrong to you, it must have been a million times worse for him, the one who'd been caught so off-guard by these new, entirely unexpected emotions. He must have been blindsided, felt so lost and scared, when he realised what was going on. Your traitorous heart felt a pang of sympathy for him. Of course he hadn't wanted to tell you; he'd probably not even been ready to admit it to himself.

 Lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling, you tried to sort out your thoughts. Whether you liked it or not, you were programmed to want to please your owner, and that included understanding them. Your psyche had done its job and let you understand, with very little information and no help, Taehyung's motivations and frame of mind.

 What it wouldn't help with, however, was understanding how you felt about all of this. You sighed and rolled onto your belly, burying your face in the pillows, stifling the urge to scream in frustration.

 You knew you cared about Taehyung. Despite everything else, that hadn't changed. You couldn't forget the way he'd taken you in, given you a loving home and everything a human could possibly ask for, and asked for nothing in return. He'd even done his best to hide his growing desire from you when - let's be real - he could have acted on it whenever he wanted. It's not like anyone would believe you over him. You loved him, and you were so grateful to him for taking you in when nobody else would, and saving you from a miserable childhood in the shelter. Everything you had - everything you were - was because of him.

 Still, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was wrong, that it was immoral and inappropriate and sick to be in a human-hybrid relationship. Not after everything that had happened between the two species. Not when you were literally different species.

 With a groan of despair that was muffled by the pillows, you flailed a little in frustration. What were you to do? You were still no closer to an answer than you'd been when you'd first started thinking about all of this literal days ago.

  Namjoon didn't know - and, God willing, would never know - that Taehyung had found your discarded shorts and underwear on his bedroom floor after you'd left, and had been using that to help him get off ever since. In the state he was in, he wasn't even capable of feeling shame or remorse at what he was doing, and was just ecstatic that he finally had something better than your residual scent on his sheets to get off to.

 He sniffed at the crotch of your panties - buried his face in them, really - licked and sucked at the stains that your arousal had left in them, and tried to memorise the scent as he masturbated furiously throughout the entire four days of his heat. By the end of it, there was barely any trace of you left on the scrap of fabric, something he bemoaned as he worked himself to the final unsatisfying orgasm of his heat.

 His whole room was a mess - it stank of sex and debauchery, and there was cum all over the place - the floor, the pillows from when he'd rutted them, all over the sheets. As he fell into a deep sleep, he wondered if you'd be able to smell it, even with your weak human nose, when you came back.

 He kind of hoped you would. His heat-addled mind wanted you to know what he'd done for you.

  When Taehyung woke up, finally lucid after running through his heat, the first thing he did was remove your panties from his mouth. He grimaced in disgust - how had he literally fallen asleep with them there? God, he was truly awful - and tossed them aside, grabbing a half-finished bottle of water from between the pillows and downing it. He was parched, and the the water in the bottle wasn't enough for him.

 As he got up on shaky legs to grab another bottle from the corner, he recognized for the first time how ravenous he was, and after picking up his water, brought it with him while he left his bedroom for the first time in days to find some food.

 Thinking that he was alone, he didn't bother getting dressed, so when he reached the end of the hallway and entered the common area of the apartment, he screamed like a little girl and ran all the way back to his room in embarrassment when Namjoon, sitting on the couch with his Kindle, turned around to see him in his full naked glory. It was nothing the older man hadn't seen before, of course - you see all sorts of things when you live together for as long as they had - but it was still embarrassing, especially after so long being apart.

 By the time he re-emerged sheepishly, fully dressed, Namjoon was waiting for him with a smirk. "You didn't need to react like that, you know," he teased.

 "Yeah, yeah," Taehyung grumped. "I'm starving, is there anything to eat?"

 Namjoon rolled his eyes. "What do you think this is, Masterchef?" he quipped. "I just called for delivery, it should be here soon," he continued.

 Taehyung, on hearing that, gave his leader his best boxy smile. "Thanks, hyung! You're the best!" he cheered, going to sit on the other end of the couch to wait.

 Namjoon, figuring that he would leave the questions till after the other man had eaten, went back to his Kindle. Taehyung, though, seemed to have other ideas.

 "Hyung, have you been here all this while?" he asked curiously.

 "Uh, yeah," Namjoon replied. "Somebody had to take care of you."

 "Where's Y/n?" came the next question.

 Namjoon hesitated then. "How much do you remember?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to say anything that might startle or upset Taehyung.

 "Uhh..." Taehyung frowned, thinking hard. "I remember Y/n smelling real good," he said, shivering at just the memory of it. "Then she was in my room, under me... then..." he trailed off, his eyes widening in horror as he started remembering in detail what had happened.

 "Oh, my God," he groaned, burying his head in his hands. "I'm awful," he said, beginning to sob.

 "Hey, don't say that about yourself," Namjoon said, alarmed, drawing closer as he patted the younger man on the back comfortingly. "You're not awful, you were just caught up in your heat, that's all."

 "No, you don't understand!" Taehyung cried out, obviously distressed. "I'm the worst; I'm a disgusting hybrid and pet owner, and I should be put behind bars for Y/n's safety, and probably the rest of society, too," he finished miserably, his ears drooping.

 Namjoon tried to calm Taehyung down to explain what he meant by that, but before he succeeded, the food arrived, and with that distraction readily available, the younger man clammed up as he stuffed his face full of japchae and kimchi stew to avoid talking.

 Eventually, when everything had been finished - even the weird sweetcorn banchan that no one ever finished - Taehyung couldn't put it off any longer.

 "You'll hate me," he protested dejectedly when Namjoon tried again to coax him to spill the beans.

 "Bro, if I didn't hate you after you threw up all over me when you had food poisoning, how could anything make me hate you now?" Namjoon countered reasonably.

 That made sense, so with a heavy sigh, Taehyung told Namjoon the entire sordid tale. The words came out stiltedly at first, then started pouring out, as Taehyung started speaking faster and faster, until it sounded like he was the rapper in the group. The more he spilled, the lighter the weight on his shoulders became, as if by telling someone else, he was transferring the burden. Namjoon, to his credit, listened quietly, his expression remaining open and neutral as he took in Taehyung's story, interjecting only to ask clarifying questions but never to pass any judgement.

 When Taehyung was finally done - he left out the bit about him using your dirty underwear to get him through his heat, because hyung or not, there were some things that should be kept to himself - he leaned back against the couch cushions with a heavy sigh. This was it, he knew. No matter how accepting his hyung was, there were some things that were just too much, and this was one of those. As he'd been telling the story from the beginning, starting from the day you'd come to pick him up from his army base, how awful it all was hit him again, amplified by revising the entirety of how he'd abused you and your trust.

 "So you see," he concluded his story with a small sigh, "I'm a disgusting pervert who should probably die for the sake of society."

 To his shock, Namjoon leaned in and squeezed his knee. "Don't say that about yourself," he castigated. "I'll do some reading and see if I can find out more about this, but you shouldn't panic, okay? I'm sure I'll be able to find an explanation and solution for you. Trust your hyung."

 The way he said that, so sure and steady, made Taehyung relax, almost against his will. Namjoon had been there for him for almost half of his life now, and he knew, from the determined set of his jaw, that he would come through for him again.

 "Okay."

  After their conversation, Namjoon texted Yoongi to let him know that the coast was clear and quickly made himself scarce, not wanting to get in the way of whatever emotional reunion you were going to have, knowing Taehyung.

 Yoongi, for his part, tried his best to get you back home as quickly as possible, and you didn't have the heart to tell him that you would actually have appreciated a little more time away from Taehyung. You felt bad, but you were still so unsure about everything that was happening, and you were, if you were being completely honest, a little afraid to go home and face him.

 Which led to you, standing outside your front door like an idiot, your fist raised to knock, but unable to actually do it. There would be no going back from this, you knew. Nothing would ever be the same again, one way or another. Was it so wrong of you to want to keep things the way they were, just for a second?

 With a heavy sigh, you dropped your fist against the solid wood of the door, wincing at the loud sound it made. Almost too quickly, you heard the patter of footsteps as Taehyung raced to the door and opened it.

 "Hi," you breathed awkwardly, standing like an idiot with no clue of what to say or do all of a sudden.

 Taehyung, it seemed, had no such problems as he pulled you into a hug and kicked the door shut with his foot. "Y/n, you came back," he breathed into your hair as he squeezed the life out of you.

 Even though you'd been so nervous just a second earlier, being in his warm, familiar embrace made it feel like everything would be okay again, and you couldn't help but melt into his embrace. "Of course I came back, oppa," you said quietly into his chest.

 "I thought... I thought..." Taehyung choked up and he couldn't continue as he dissolved into sobs. "I'm so sorry!" he cried instead, over and over again as you soothed him, telling him that everything would be okay, that you would always be here for him, that you were never going to leave him no matter what, as you stroked his ears comfortingly, the way you knew he liked.

 "Hey, it's okay," you repeated as you patted his back, leaning up on tiptoe to press kisses to as much of his face as you could reach. And it was. Just being with Taehyung, in that moment, gave you a clarity that you hadn't been able to find after days of agonizing over it. Taehyung had saved you, and you loved him. It was as simple as that. And listening to him blubber about how sorry he was, how he'd work on it, he promised, how he'd never do anything like that again if you would just forgive him, you knew that whatever Taehyung wanted, you'd give to him, no matter how you felt about it.

 "It's okay," you said one last time as his sobs petered out. "Whatever you want, it's okay."

 Taehyung didn't fully register at the time how much you meant what you'd said to him that day, but he would soon.

  It was weeks later that Namjoon finally made a breakthrough on his research. Weeks of obsessively searching, trawling through endless pages on the dark web and the dregs of reddit, before he finally found something. It was an old research paper, hundreds of years old, published by a now-defunct, of course, company that had manufactured hybrids. The paper was titled "Research advancements in imprinting technology in hybrids".

 "Oh my God," Namjoon breathed in shock and horror as he skimmed the paper. This was way more serious than either he or Taehyung had initially thought.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Can you write a jujutsu kaisen reader who is literally a reader? Got in the anime by accident and suddenly has the power of telekinesis? Or stuff like that

So I have literally read this 26 times since I got it, and I don’t know if I’m just dumb in the brain but I don’t get it. lol! All I could focus on was the ‘reader’ part, so I just did that bit.

YUJI ITADORI + KENTO NANAMI + RYOMEN SUKUNA

Yuji Itadori

“[Y/N]-chan! What are you doing?”

You look up as Yuji let himself into your dorm room. He rarely ever knocked anymore. What was the point? He was always welcome. “Hey Yuji. Reading a book.”

“Oh. Is it something for class?” He asked, flopping down to sit next to you on the bed. Seeming to wonder if there was an assignment or task he’d forgotten about. He always was an open book when it came to what he was feeling.

“No. This is just for me reading.” You reply as you turn the page.

“Oh…” He said again. The look on his face no clear that the only time he thought of reading was when someone was making him do it. “I was thinking about going to the movies. Do you want to come? We can split a popcorn.”

“No, thank you. I just want to sit and read today.” Yuji pouted at your reply.

“But that’s so boring!”

“I don’t think so.” You reply calmly. It’s not the first time someone had said that to you. “I like reading. Books are fun. But if you think it’s ‘boring’ then why don’t you see if Fushiguro-kun or Kugisaki-kun want to go to the movies.”

“I don’t want to go to the movies with them.” Yuji pouted further. His back scrapping against the wall as he slowly fell over to rest his head against your knees, tucked into your chest as a book rest.

It was clear now that he didn’t want to just go to the movies. He wanted to go to the movies with you. You sigh softly and pet Yuji’s head with a smile. “Let me finish this chapter. Then we can go to the movies.”

The thousand watt smile he laid on you made it look like you’d offer him some glorious treasure.

It also took you longer than usual to finish the chapter, because every few moments Yuji would ask, “are you done yet?”

Kento Nanami

It was a typical Sunday afternoon.

You had just finished brunch. Cleaned up the kitchen. Started a new load of laundry while separated what needed to go to the cleaners. And now you were in the living room with what was left of your coffees reading. Nanami reading the Sunday paper, while you read your latest book on your separate ends of the couch.

“Hmm…seems NIKKEI is finally on the rise.”

“That’s nice.” You have no idea what he was talking about when it came to money markets and finance, but he usually appreciated when you gave some sort of feedback.

“The US markets are still on the decline though. Perhaps it’s time to start looking for better returns.”

“I completely agree.” You reply over the sound of you both turning your pages.

“Is your new book good?” He had bought it for you. A gift he had picked up on the way home just because. It was on display at a café where you both liked to get coffee and thought you should have it.

“It’s a little too early to make that determination. I’ll let you know once I hit climax.”

“Please do. I may want to read it after you.”

“I’ll try not to spoil the ending then.”

“Thank you.”

You both go back to your respective literatures for the rest of the afternoon. You loved Sundays.

Ryomen Sukuna

The library at Tokyo Tech had an abundance of literature on Jujutsu. Written by some of the greatest masters, scholars, and practitioners of all time.

Unfortunately for you they all might have been written in a foreign language at this point, because you weren’t getting it.

“Yada yada….reading books to learn jujutsu. How pathetic.”

You look up and suddenly realize you weren’t in your room anymore. Your feet in an inch of water. Your body seated on the steps leading up to Sukuna’s throne. The cursed spirit smirking down at you from his tower of bones.

“Put me back Sukuna.” You demand with a frown. This wasn’t the first time he’d plucked you out of the air and into his domain. You’re not sure how he does it. But then again no one was entirely sure what powers the King of Curses had in his newly, semi-revived form. You’ve never told anyone, only because you were afraid what they would do to Yuji.

“So stingy. And here I was trying to help you.” The cursed spirt stood, still with his smirk. Then suddenly he was down the steps and next to you in a literal flash. Leaning into your personal space to read your book. “They got it all wrong you know. Filling your head with nonsense won’t help you become a great sorcerer.”

“Yeah? And what would you know?” You quip back. Leaning away from Sukuna, much to his amusement, and closing your book so he couldn’t mock it or you anymore. “A lot has changed since your time old man.”

“Jujutsu never changes.” He replied with a less amused, more even tone, but he wasn’t angry.

No, if he was angry, he would have just killed you. You wondered a lot of times why he hadn’t done that. Killed you, that is. He’d never actually hurt you at all when he summoned you here. He would bring you here, talk a bit or boast, and then sent you back like nothing happened. You always wonder why he did this to you, but it was beyond your comprehension to understand the King of Curses’s intentions.

“Maybe. But we all can’t be ‘naturally gifted’ like some people in this area. Some of us have to learn from the greats.”

“You have the greatest right here.” Sukuna remarked, with something as close to a pout as you think he could muster on his face. “You would rather read the words of some ninny who doesn’t know his an from his zu, than get education from the greatest jujutsu sorcerer the eons have ever known?”

“Books are free. Your teachings come with a price.”

“You get what you pay for.” His smirk was back. Then he reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Those long nails grazing your skin. Your world getting hazy and heavy. “Think about it doll.” His words echo in your head for a moment before your world went black.

When you opened your eyes, you were back in your room. Feet dry. But the unsettling feeling of that cold, dead water still clinging to your bones.

[polandspringz]

Okay so I had missed out on Zutomayo’s song Hunch Gray because the MV it was region locked and upon discovering it and watching it I was kind of disappointed? I know that Zutomayo and even Eve don’t use Waboku ALL the time for their animation, but I was so surprised when watching Hunch Gray because it looked just like Waboku’s art, but something felt off and it took me a minute to figure out that the reason it looked wrong was because it wasn’t. I then realized it was closer to the art style in Hakumei Zenya by NEE- which was because both of them were animated by Komugiko2000.

Komugiko2000 DOES have a very similar style to Waboku to begin with, but their lines are thinner and the contours are more broken up, while Waboku tends to have cleaner, continuous lines that are a bit thicker (over the course of Waboku’s career as a PV/MV artist their lines have gotten thinner and cleaner, earlier works sometimes had a thick more textured appearance to their lines). While in Hunch Gray, the more muted, warmer coloring that Komugiko2000 did in Hakumei Zenya is shown, which is a clue that this is their work in this case, I can’t help but notice the lines are a bit thicker than normal, and the biggest give away is the eyes. Unlike the eyes is Hakumei Zenya, they are much closer to Waboku’s style. Hakumei Zenya had a more circular “dish” shape to them, or in the case of the girl in the MV, looked much more like an “egg”, showing all of the iris’s circle- the closest comparison I can make is to the eye style of the Hanako-kun series. Komugiko2000 CAN and HAS drawn eyes differently, as seen in their work on GIANT KILLING’s MV by Loin and on their Twitter, they may have simply been going for a new style, but just with everything else, it feels almost like Zutomayo told them to replicate Waboku’s art? I’m guessing they couldn’t get Waboku for this MV (maybe because they were working on the Porter Robinson MV at the time?) and so they hired a similar artist/animator to do a similar look. The smoother lines and animation could just be a product of higher production, staff, or money. I wouldn’t really be comparing this if it wasn’t for my other problem with the MV which is that I feel like I had seen this plot before.

Now, I know that a plot line of a character turning into a monster that is a manifestation of their internal turmoil or emotions exploding and being rescued by another character isn’t an original concept to begin with, but in recent years we’ve seen this theme pop up a lot more mainly because Eve has been building a narrative surrounding this throughout his music videos and work with Waboku and Mah. I’m not saying that other creators can’t do this same idea, but my issue is that Hunch Gray’s MV feels like Zutomayo took Hakumei Zenya’s characters and gave them an ending of Baumkuchen End by Eve. There are some new details, the car scene is very well animated for one, as well as the characters being linked by the compasses on their wrist that point to one another. But the ending of the MV where the girl goes into the sky to rescue the boy who seemingly had been locked inside a tall building is very similar to Baumkuchen End which ends with the boy being thrown through the sky to reach the girl nested in the center of the giant monster that she unleashed when crying. It just feels reused, is what I’m saying, and less original and abstract than Zutomayo’s previous MVs.

This may just be a decision to finally deviate from their usual story. They did essentially finish their story about the girl who kept dying in Milabo, and showing a girl with two toned hair is just their brand since Study Me isn’t necessarily linked in the story but showed that too (and neither was Ham and Fastening really). My real issue is that if they wanted to do a new story, whether it was a one shot or the beginning of a new series, they had really gone with it. I wish they had let Komugiko2000 do more with their art, because although the buildings don’t look like Waboku’s at all, the way the people are drawn really look reminiscent of the art from Waboku directed MVs for Zutomayo, and they’ve done other styles before for MVs LIKE in Study Me and Fastening. I just don’t know why they decided to go for something that ended up feeling like a copy.

[themurphyzone]

PatB/BatB AU: If I Can’t Love Him Ch 1

Summary: Sequel to Imprisoned and part of the PatB BatB AU.

The Beast knows he’s too far gone, in too deep to ever have hope of regaining what he lost. But one action leads to another, and through a series of mistakes, discovers he may have been wrong about so many things.

Pinky is running for his life. He knows he made a promise, and he finds the servants charming, but he can’t stay. The castle was not and will never be his home. But things aren’t always as they appear.

AN: OK ok technically the disastrous dinner request does happen first (as of posting this first chapter, the dinner request scene has not been written yet but I do hope to get around to it), but I just wanna write the West Wing and its aftermath ok lemme have my angst.

This will be a 4 chapter story, each chapter named for a lyric from If I Can’t Love Her from the BatB Broadway musical. It’s a really heartwrenching song and every time I hear it I just wanna hug poor Beast.

AO3 Link

Ch 1: Careless and Unthinking

The Beast heard music drifting from the large dining room, traveling along the wind until it reached his usual haunt on the castle roof just above the West Wing.

Though he was too far to properly hear the lyrics, he recognized that irritatingly catchy melody to Be a Pest, a song the Warner siblings performed on a semi-regular basis ever since the curse upended their lives.

He should’ve known the Warners wouldn’t leave the prisoner alone in his room to starve.

The Beast huffed, a misty cloud forming in the frigid air.

He wasn’t sure why he said that when he didn’t actually want the prisoner to starve. It was counterproductive to breaking the curse.

And that mouse was far too foolish to suit his purposes. Arguing every order, determined to defy him at every turn, uncaring of self-preservation when he skipped into the castle and announced his presence without the slightest attempt at stealth.

Not that anyone else bothered to heed his orders, despite his higher station, but it was especially irritating from someone who was supposed to be a prisoner.

Surely all his hopes of regaining his rightful position weren’t dependent on an idiot whose head was permanently up in the clouds!

Rage mounted in the depths of his deformed body, and though he tried to hold back, he couldn’t stop the primal roar that worked its way past his throat.

It echoed off the trees, a flock of faraway birds taking to the air to get away from a perceived predator.

He struck the roof with one clawed, oversized hand. Several loose tiles spiraled into the abyss below.

The rush of adrenaline was overwhelming. It felt good to be so powerful. His old body was woefully lacking in strength and height.

He’d never been able to climb onto the roof before. A mouse was far too small and fragile to ever attempt something so death-defying.

Nor was he able to tear furniture apart so easily. But now he could.

Give in, a voice whispered, sweet and tempting and malicious all at once. Why resist your anger? Give in now, and you won’t be hurt ever again. I promise.

Anger was the only emotion worth feeling. It was blissful to not experience anything other than splintered wood and torn cloth under his claws. No worries, doubts, or fears to hold him back. When his thoughts became nothing but a simplistic chant of destroy, destroy, destroy.

Then all coherent thought would cease, and only instincts were left.

But anger was a fickle companion. It would encourage him, drive him forward, yet it would suddenly flee. It didn’t stay with him in the wake of his destruction.

And the guilt came.

His shortsightedness robbed everyone of a comfortable life. Nobody was spared. Not the innocent toddler, not the orphans or stray animals seeking a safe haven, nor the regular household staff.

On that first long, horrible night, he’d promised to break the curse. They’d be back to normal before they knew it, and they’d only remember it as one odd, terrifying nightmare.

But his plan didn’t work. And he made that promise again. Then his next plan failed before he set it into motion.

Tomorrow night. I’ll break it tomorrow night for sure.

For the past five years, he made that same promise every night.

But the curse wasn’t broken. The nightmare wasn’t complete.

Every plan failed. He tried everything.

That is, he tried everything except for the condition laid out from the very beginning.

The beautiful witch’s voice haunted him, mocking him through every waking hour and dream, taunting him with fate-sealing roses and mirrors that reflected the monster he was.

“If you can find somebody to love, and earn their love in return, my enchantment upon your castle shall be lifted. Fail in your quest, and you shall remain a beast for all time.”

The condition was an open secret in the castle, though only the Warners dared to bring up the topic within his vicinity.

He laughed, but it was a harsh, guttural laugh, completely devoid of joy.

Love? How could he possibly love anyone?

Love only brought pain.

As a foolish child, he loved his parents.

Then they abandoned him in favor of the lavish court. His existence was a scandal unto itself, and he was secreted away to a province with little royal oversight.

He let out an ugly snarl, cruel fangs digging into his upper lip.

The harsh, unnatural sound only served as a reminder that nobody would ever love him back. His mind, which once held ideas on how to reclaim his throne and improve life in this neglected province, was now dull and dimming further by the day.

He couldn’t read or invent anymore. His hands were too large for the delicate machinery, his claws ripping apart everything he touched. He barely remembered how to stand on two legs, and the few times he tried, he quickly lost his balance and had no choice but to stalk the hallways on all fours, stripped of all dignity.

Intelligence was all he had. And even that would be gone soon.

Nobody wanted a dumb, slavering, mud-colored beast for a lover.

A chilly wind blew snow into his fur, startling him out of his ponderings. The night had quickly grown dark and cold, the land below shrouded in an early winter. The moon and stars were hidden by thick, low clouds.

He didn’t hear any music. The prisoner had likely eaten his fill by now.

The silence unnerved him.

It was quiet on the rooftop, but without the background noise of the servants working or screaming from the unfortunate souls who were assigned Warner or Mindy duty, it was far too quiet for comfort.

When it was silent, the most unwelcome thoughts nagged at his deteriorating mind.

He sighed, regretting his decision to ponder on the roof this long. But then, it seemed his entire life was just one bad decision after another, so he was hardly bothered.  

Stretching his sore limbs, he carefully gripped the slippery tiles as he descended down to the West Wing balcony. The wind whipped at his cape, and his exposed fur stood on end to keep his body warm.

This body was more resistant to the cold, able to endure conditions any weak, normal mouse would hide themselves from.

He was powerful.

But that thought quickly came to an end.

He lost his grip on a handhold, sliding several inches on the slippery stone.

The brief scare made whatever remained of his shriveled heart leap in fear, and he was reminded that regardless of physical prowess, he was still mortal.

On some nights, being mortal was a good thing.

He took hold of a thick, tangled growth of ivy that crept up the stone walls over the years, so thick that even his sharp claws couldn’t cut through it. The servants had valiantly battled the plants over the years, but there was only so much they could do.

The castle would crumble once the curse took hold permanently and become nothing more than a relic lost to time.

He crept down the ivy to the West Wing balcony, allowing the mysterious, cruel light of the enchanted rose to guide him to safety in the darkness.

Brooding over a rose and making doomed plans in the vain hope of breaking this curse.

That’s all he was good for these days.

Just as he set foot on the balcony, his ears perked at the sound of footsteps within his chambers. He growled quietly to himself.

He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the Warners’ antics tonight. Not when their advice proved little use against the prisoner’s stubborn refusal to have dinner with him.

But the footsteps sounded…different. Lighter.

Not brassy like Yakko’s, wooden like Wakko’s, or clinking like Dot’s.

The Beast inhaled sharply.

No.

It couldn’t be.

His prisoner was an idiot, but surely he wouldn’t break the only rule he’d been given. He should’ve been thanking the Beast for his leniency with the guidelines to follow for his stay within the castle property.

Don’t go into the West Wing.

But the mouse was right before his eyes, still on the far side of the room, twirling around in awe at the torn draperies, splintered wood, and haphazard bedding.

“Narf. This room could use a good sweep. I’ve seen pigsties cleaner than this!” the mouse tsked, shaking his head at the sorry state of the West Wing.

Really? The Beast wanted to scream. That’s your main concern right now?

Never mind that the West Wing was a grim testament to just how far he’d fallen, the shadowed lair of a beast, the broken décor scattered and abused throughout the years because it felt so good to lash out at something without guilt, and his prisoner commented on the mess of all things?

His claws brushed against a shard from a broken vase, and he sullenly flicked it aside. The ceramic remains skittered across the balcony.

Alright, so maybe the West Wing was a little messy…

An odd sense of embarrassment washed over him.

He crouched behind a thick tangle of ivy, feeling very much like a predator lying in wait for unsuspecting prey. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to do anything, and the mouse would just leave on his own.

The mouse picked his way through the West Wing, stopping to gawk at a shredded mattress and pile of ragged blankets that served as the Beast’s bed. He plucked at a strip of fabric that had fallen on the floor, and the Beast growled lowly. His sleeping area wasn’t a spectacle.

It was simply where he woke up from a nightmare, only to find that he never truly left.  

The mouse gasped, his ears twitching. For a fleeting moment, the Beast believed he’d successfully chased him out of the West Wing. But the mouse turned to a portrait in a golden frame, one that had been painted so long ago, in a faraway life.

He’d dragged his claws across that painting many times, when he could no longer take the image of himself as a prince, mocking him with his dead-eyed stare and prestige.

Reminding him of what he used to be.

Though he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it permanently, some part of him couldn’t bear to throw it away. He didn’t know why.

He was tempted to spring out of his hiding place and tell the mouse to get out right now, but the gentle, almost reverent way the mouse pulled the hanging scraps of the portrait up to what remained in the frame made him hesitate.

In the entryway of the balcony, the rose sparked within the bell jar, its ethereal glow blinding for just a moment before it settled once again.

His hesitation cost him.

Slowly, the mouse approached the enchanted rose. The glow was always mesmerizing, always the only beautiful thing in an otherwise dark and ugly room.

Sometimes he fantasized about shredding the rose to pieces and scattering the petals to the wind, so that he wouldn’t ever have to look at it anymore.

But he wasn’t the only one affected by the curse, though he was the one who bore the brunt of it. Too often, he’d come close to forgetting that.

The rose floated just above a small, elevated platform. Five petals had fallen so far, lifeless and dead. More would join them soon enough. The pink glow illuminated the mouse’s unusual blue eyes, which were already lit up in idiotic wonder and curiosity.

With a surprising amount of strength for a mouse so slim, the prisoner carefully lifted the bell jar and set it aside.

The sheer stupidity of that action stunned the Beast.

Then the mouse reached out, fingers outstretched, just a few inches away from-

THAT FOOL WAS GOING TO DAMN THEM ALL!

All-consuming fear and fury seized hold of the Beast’s mind, his vision filled with red haze as he sprung out from behind the ivy thicket.

Protect the rose. Protect the rose at any cost.  

The Beast snarled, ignoring his prisoner’s startled gasp. The mouse tripped over his own feet as the Beast snatched up the bell jar and slammed it over the rose.

For a moment, he feared he was too rough with the precious items. Though no petals fell, he wouldn’t allow himself any relief.

Not until the intruder was dealt with.

He gripped the bell jar tightly, slowly turning to face the mouse who thought he could just barge into the West Wing without any consequences whatsoever.

“What are you doing here?” the Beast growled, blocking the rose from the mouse’s view.

The mouse held his hands in front of his face. “I…I’m sorry!” he stammered.

Did he truly believe a simple placation would work? That he broke the one rule, a rather generous rule, just to satisfy his own curiosity?

“I warned you NEVER to come here!” he snarled, caring nothing for the apology.

The mouse stumbled over the corner of a ceramic vase which had oddly survived the carnage the Beast had wrought over the years. His eyes were wide, his ears limp. He squeaked something in protest, pitifully trying to justify his poor reasoning.

“DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU COULD’VE DONE?”

A roar tore out of his throat. He was dimly aware of a terrified scream, his large paws smashing a vase into jagged shards, and all he knew was the pleasure of unleashing his wrath upon anything that couldn’t fight back.

He only saw red.  

“GET OUT!”

A pile of broken wood flew past the mouse’s head. He let out a ragged cry and fled the West Wing. His piercing scream echoed in the Beast’s ears, banishing the red, vengeful haze that overtook his mind.

Broken furniture surrounded him.  

Downstairs, the servants pleaded in vain for the mouse to stay. A cold wind blew through the castle, icy enough to pierce through his defenses.

The Beast turned to the rose, just in time for the sixth petal to fall.

It had a wicked sense of humor.

The enchanted mirror reflected cruel, sharp fangs as he panted for breath. The portrait’s gaze bore into him, dead-eyed and mocking and judgmental.  

And the twisted black horns which adorned his head were heavier than before.  

AN: I’m sorry mice, I love you, I swear…

No I did not start the BatB AU as an excuse to torture Brain as much as I already do. It’s kinda sad that many character traits of Disney’s Beast and Brain overlap. Short temper, arrogant, a goal they want very very badly but their own vices prevent them from ever obtaining it, brooding, someone they love so much they’ll do anything for, even give up their own desires, but they don’t believe they can be loved back…yeah. 

I tried to do the West Wing justice cause it’s such a great scene in the movie, but I don’t think it translates well to a text based medium. Oh well, you can just listen to the soundtrack, but I think I did well enough with it.

[majolishious]

Headcanons for MC doing the sleep experiment individually with the boys, and subsequently falling asleep before them.

【Lucifer】

Sharing a bed with Lucifer was something that seemed like an unachievable dream at first, but alas, here you were - nestled beside him under the luxurious blankets. You were meant to be watching for him to fall asleep, to study his sleeping habits as he put it, but the idle chit-chat was keeping him far further from dreamland, and bringing you closer. Lucifer’s voice was hypnotic, each word lulling you deeper into a trance until you involuntarily closed your eyes, and fell into a deep sleep beside him. It didn’t take him too long to notice that you’d fallen asleep, especially since he had asked you a question before you dozed off. When the answer never came, he smiled to himself in the darkness, rolling over to gently caress your cheek, “Sleep well, (Y/N),” he whispered before giving into the sleep that beckoned him.

【Mammon】

The avatar of greed was greedy for more than just money, he was also greedy for your attention. When presented with the chance to finally be alone with you - despite the fine print of the agreement saying he was not to do anything inappropriate, and that this was to merely study his sleeping habit; Mammon still saw it as a victory. Not that he’d tell you, but he made the effort to clean his room a little bit before you came over, hoping that you’d notice and say, “Good job, Mammon!” maybe you’d even pet his head too, but he won’t get too ahead of himself. When you arrived, you didn’t really notice his cleaner room, rather heading straight to his bed in order to hit the hay as soon as humanly possible. He was miffed and spouting about, “This is not how you should treat the great Mammon!” but as soon as you softly ushered him to come to bed with you, he was like putty in your hands. He snuggled up to you, and lay quietly (for once) until he worked up the courage to say something - only to be met with silence, “Falling asleep next to the great Mammon like this is unacceptable, human, but I’ll allow it this once,” he whispered to you, inching closer to you before falling asleep himself.

【Leviathan】

You did the math, and honestly, you couldn’t work out how HE managed to sleep in that bathtub, never mind adding you to it. Adding the volume, and dividing by body pillow, human, and demon body; it seemed impossible. Levi noticed the worried look on your face, and figured out the cause, “I know you don’t want to be stuck in a bed with a yucky otaku,” you could hear the sadness in his voice, and quickly reassured him that no, that was not the issue, but he failed to understand your issue with his bed, and helped you to solve the math problem. The solution was him in his bed, curled around you while trying to somehow get into a comfortable position. Your faces ended up being inches apart, and despite it being dark you knew he was as red as a tomato. Levi was stuttering out something about how he’d rather play games or watch anime right about now, rather than doing this normie sleep thing. It’s not like you heard what he said anyway, casually dozing off next to him, falling into a sleep deeper than the ocean. He was a bit offended at first, did you really think that little of him that- oh who was he kidding. You looked so peaceful and so cute sleeping beside him, “Goodnight, Henry, and goodnight, (Y/N),” he mumbled, settling himself down to finally get some sleep.

【Satan】

He preferred to spend his nights reading under a dim light, with a hot chocolate or chamomile tea beside him. His room certainly felt more unusual than the others. Every breath, you took in the scent of his room, a scent that would transport you to a book store. Looking around the room, you wondered just how many priceless books were on the shelves; books in dead languages; books that in your lifetime, you could never finish reading. Thinking about it too hard was rather overwhelming, and in this chaos sat the Avatar of Wrath, Satan, who was as calm as anything. He took the last sip of his warm drink, and shut his book, leaving it till the morning, “I guess you have to watch me sleep now,” he said with mild amusement, switching off his light before climbing into bed with you. He wanted to take this rare opportunity to do so much more, but instead asked you to tell him some stories from the human world, ones you might have heard before going to sleep. Once your short story ended, he began to tell you a bedtime story from the Devildom, specifically one Lucifer used to tell him. From the short bit you got to hear, it sounded like a nice story, but once you fell asleep, Satan decided to tell you the rest some other day.

【Asmodeus】

He was so excited. Getting to have you all to himself for the night was surely a dream come true, and he planned to make the most of it. The Avatar of Lust would give you a night to remember. He was excited to just hurry to his bed, though he decided to take the opportunity to indulge you in his beauty routine. The face masks you both use smelled like jasmine, and certainly left your face feeling softer and smoother than it had ever felt before. There was something quite relaxing about his room. It was pretty, and had a nice aroma due to the roses and numerous beauty products he uses. He was excited to have some devil talk with you on his bed,and insisted you tell him some juicy gossip from the human world, or about his brothers, after he took his turn. The problem was, he just kept going on, and on, until you ended up sinking deeper into the fluff and comfort of his bed, falling asleep while he continued to spill some tea about a witch he once fooled around with. It was quite a while before he noticed you’d left the conversation and fell asleep. Asmo was honestly a little pissed at first, after all, you’re wasting this opportunity to sleep. He couldn’t stay mad at you, instead opting to trace his fingers over your face, and playing with your hair until he finally gave in, and fell asleep; all for the sake of his skin of course.

【Beelzebub】

He had to sleep in your room, or the experiment/study wouldn’t work since Belphie would be there too. You had slept in a room with Beel before, and knew what to expect. His stomach growled as ferociously as a pack of hungry dragons, despite having ate no less than 5 minutes ago, and was already prepared to chomp down on your pillows. Luckily, Beel had plenty of snacks and food to last the night, some of which he planned to share and then ate accidentally. For the most part, your night with Beel was rather calm. He spent the majority of it munching away, and chatting with you. When you both finally get into bed, you find that he’d rather spoon with you - you being his little spoon and having one hand interlaced with his. Every so often, you can feeling him lightly pecking your head, like a sheep about to eat some delicious grass. It’s soothing in an odd way, and you end up falling asleep while he leaves soft kisses atop your head.

【Belphegor】

Much like his brother, he ended up having to sleep in your room, and arrangement he didn’t mind in the slightest. You figured that you’d be able to stay awake longer than the avatar of sloth, but Belphie had no plans of sleeping quite yet. Why waste the night he could have with you right? Belphie could fall asleep anywhere, and at anytime, but he was determined to sleep after you, wanting to get a good look at the innocent and vulnerable side of you. His usual cow pillow was between you two, and you found yourself lightly petting the soft fabric, “wouldn’t you rather pet me instead?”, Belphie teased, and let out a light laugh when he saw you getting flustered. Though before you even had a chance to say anything back, Belphie’s hand was already on your head, softly fiddling with your hair and giving your scalp a light massage. Needless to say, Belphie stayed awake longer than you did. Not by much though, and it was safe to say the experiment ended in a total failure.

[emachinescat]

That I Could Fear a Door

A Tales of Arcadia: Trollhunters Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

Summary: Jim had thought that going back home, back to the real world, would be an easy and painless process. He thought it would be simple - it should have been simple. It wasn’t. A reimagining of Jim’s return from the Darklands, where he quickly finds that adjusting to real life after so much trauma isn’t as easy as one might think. 

Words: 5,639

TW: PTSD, depression, panic attacks

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

Years I had been from home,

And now, before the door

I dared not open, lest a face

I never saw before …

I laughed a wooden laugh

That I could fear a door,

Who danger and the dead had faced,

But never quaked before.

- From "Home" by Emily Dickinson

Jim had thought that going back home, back to the real world, would be an easy and painless process. After all, during his weeks in the Darklands, first alone and searching the endless shadows, then hunted like an animal, then captured and beaten and forced to fight for the sport of others, hadn't he dreamed endlessly of just that? Of seeing the sun again, of seeing his friends, of hugging his mom, of cooking and eating and training and playing video games and slacking off on homework? He thought it would be simple - it should have been simple.

It wasn't.

The first few moments after crashing back into the over world were indeed euphoric. There was the sun, filtering in through the branches of the trees. It took all of his self-control not to stare straight into it. Even in the evening breeze, there was a warmth in the air that he hadn't felt in so long that it seemed more like a memory. He lay there, flat on his back in the grass, wishing he could feel the soft tickle of the blades on his skin, but trapped in his Eclipse armor. Still, he was free.

Much of the next hour was a blur. He later would recall a few hazy moments - hugging his friends, receiving the amulet from Blinky and finally - finally - shedding the stifling second skin of the Eclipse armor, trying to convince Nomura to stick around, Claire semi-joking about how bad he smelled, and the word free chasing itself around in his head like a dog after its own tail. Free, free, free!

He would always remember in perfect clarity the moment he hugged his mother again, but that hadn't come until later the next week. He wanted more than anything to go to her immediately upon his escape, but Toby and Claire convinced him otherwise.

"What's she going to think if you come home looking like … well, looking like… that?" Toby demanded, gesturing unhelpfully to Jim as a whole.

"And the smell…" Claire added, also unhelpfully.

"You have been through a great ordeal, Master Jim," Blinky reminded him gently. "If you go home now, there will be questions you cannot answer and not the rest you need."

And so Jim reluctantly agreed to go home in Toby's stead with Aaarrrgghh while Toby covered for him at home once more.

It was surreal, Jim found himself thinking as he stood in the Domzalski household's upstairs bathroom, shower already running hot behind him and Aaarrrgghh just across the hall, waiting for him in Toby's room. Just this morning, he had woken up in a cage on cold stone, in a state of perpetual, gnawing hunger that had become the norm, hanging on to the tiniest thread of hope that today might be the day he was finally rescued - but knowing deep down that it was much more likely to be the day he finally died. Now, he had a full stomach for the first time in nearly a month. He was with his friends, safe, electric lights warding off the darkness that had been his hell for so long. Hot water waited for him, beckoned for him. He could be warm and clean again. Just a few days ago he had said something about how much he missed soap. He should have been happy, he thought miserably. Maybe happy wasn't the right word. He was very happy to be away from the Darklands, from Gunmar and Dictatious and goblins and monsters. But he wasn't content.

He also couldn't bring himself to undress. He had been standing in front of the mirror for a good five minutes now, as steam billowed out from behind the curtain and fogged the glass, obscuring the face he'd barely recognized anyway. Good riddance, he thought half-madly, for the boy in the mirror was a warped doppelganger, touched by death and despair, with his sunken eyes, wan skin stretched too tight over abnormally prominent cheekbones, dark, puffy bags under his eyes, and a smattering of bruises and cuts pulling the whole package together with a sickly little bow. His hair was a bit longer than he usually kept it, matted and caked with dirt and blood. It felt crusty to the touch, and brittle somehow, as if it would crumble to dust if he tried to brush it.

He looked bad enough as it was from the neck up. He had no desire to see what awaited him beneath his filthy clothes. He wondered blearily how they had gotten so disgusting when they had been underneath his armor the whole time. Sweat and revoked shower privileges would do that to a person, he finally reasoned, and at once he found he couldn't get in the shower quickly enough.

He stripped off the offending garments with an urgency he hadn't felt even at his most desperate moments in the Darklands, nearly tripping over the edge of the tub in his haste to get in. He was relieved that the mirror had fogged, but he still avoided making eye contact with it just in case.

The water burned his skin, but he turned it hotter, attacking his hair first with nearly half a bottle of shampoo, applying and rinsing, applying and rinsing, until he couldn't see from the suds cascading down his face and the murky water ran clear. He conditioned once, something he'd never done before. He didn't know if it did anything, but it made him feel cleaner.

And then he was scrubbing himself all over, the water reddening the skin on his arms (he studiously avoided looking anywhere else), again and again, as if trying to peel his very skin off. Dirt and sweat and blood poured off of his battered body and he watched it meander toward the drain in a detached sort of way before resuming his frantic washing.

It wasn't until his skin was so raw that he felt like he was an onion peeled of its top few layers that he stopped, breathing heavily, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him, nausea roiling as he regretted the deli sandwich he'd scarfed down earlier. Knees weak, he found himself sinking to the floor of the tub, knees drawn up awkwardly to his chest. The water pounded on his head, back, shoulders, and he let it, slipping into a kind of sleep-trance, watching the water swirl around his feet before making its relentless way to the drain. He thought of nothing, felt nothing, and only broke out of the haze when the water grew cold and panic lanced through him at the loss of warmth. He turned off the water, more tired than he could ever remember being in his life, somehow managed to stand up on wobbly legs, wearily slid back the shower curtain - and froze.

Since he'd been in the shower so long that the water had gone cold, the mirror had also de-fogged, and he found himself unwillingly confronted with the specter that he had been hoping to avoid - his reflection.

Before he'd been captured, he'd scavenged for food and found himself eating something mostly every day, so he'd been nourished but always hungry. After he'd been taken, however, any meals - and he used that word lightly - were few and far between. They'd fed him just enough to keep him alive. He could see now from his emaciated frame that they had still essentially starved him. He'd been Gunmar's prisoner for what felt like years, but it had to have been a week at most.

Still, close to a month without a reliable food source had done its work: He'd always been skinny, but now he could see, fully defined, every rib. Any muscle mass, lean though it might have been, that he'd gained during his training was gone, his arms weak and frail looking. His armor had protected him from extensive physical damage all the times that he had been beaten or tossed around like a soccer ball, but his whole torso was mottled with bruises of all colors, shapes, and sizes, all in different stages of healing. A good deal of them were centered over his ribs, and he winced as the pain that had been his constant companion flared up. He wondered vaguely if he needed to see a doctor. He wouldn't be surprised if Gunmar had cracked a few in one of his rages. He cast the thought aside - how would he explain the state he was in? - and turned abruptly from the horrible, somehow shameful image of his battered body and quickly dressed in the pair of pajamas Toby had let him borrow. They would have swallowed him whole on a normal day, but now they made him feel tiny and breakable and pathetic and weak, and he only kept them on because he hated the way he looked underneath even more.

He offered a simple "G'night," to Aaarrgghh before falling into Toby's bed, expecting to fall asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

To his surprise, and to his irritation, sleep refused to come. He couldn't get comfortable. The bed was too soft, the blankets too warm, and the moonlight making its way in between the cracks in the curtains toyed with him, tickling his eyelids with the suggestion of light and making it impossible to fall asleep. There were none of the noises he'd come to grow accustomed to, either - no faint buzzing of the magically reinforced bars holding him in, no tromping footsteps of the guards, no click-clacking of goblin claws or snorts or whistled operas or snarls or distant, echoing screams…

In the end, Jim tossed and turned, sick with fatigue and enraged at how cruelly sleep evaded him. He finally, mercifully fell into a restless, nightmare-filled slumber around five in the morning, but even the worst of the dreams didn't wake him, exhausted as he was, and he was trapped back in the Darklands, suffering torture after torture at Gunmar's hands, until he woke again eighteen hours later, on a cot in Troll Market.

He had been moved there at dusk the next day when his coma-like slumber pressed on and his friends, who had not realized the extent of his injuries or exhaustion, grew worried. Vendel had examined him while he slept, expertly bound ribs that had indeed been cracked, and performed all the healing rituals and magic he knew to be safe for a human. Even so, he'd warned Jim, who felt numb and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, it would be a week before he could even begin to regain his strength and pass as his old self, and longer for him to truly be back to the same physical shape he had been in before he'd gone to the Darklands.

And so Jim stayed in Troll Market, under Vendel's care, for another eight days, while Toby got to put on a magical mask and pretend to be him and have his life and hug his mom. Jim tried not to be bitter about it, but it was hard. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh spent all their spare time with him, and Claire and Toby came to Troll Market after school every day and kept him company until they were expected home. Jim talked to them, laughed hollowly, took the homework they gave him, and then retreated within himself as soon as they had disappeared out of sight.

It will be better soon, he kept telling himself desperately. I just need to get out of Troll Market, go back home, get back to my normal life. Once I'm feeling better and things are back to the way they were, it will be like I never left.

Once again, he was very wrong.

***

In the weeks that followed his re-emergence into his real life, Jim discovered very quickly that the life he had left was either very different than he had remembered it to be, or that he himself was very different than he had once been. He supposed both might be a little true.

Being in his mother's embrace was the only thing that felt completely safe and normal after his return. He didn't care that she had just grounded him; when he finally saw her again, he hugged harder and longer than he could ever remember doing, and he had felt better, more like himself, until he'd tried to go to sleep that night and the cold returned. The next morning, he had attempted to do his usual routine like nothing had ever happened, but even that familiar motion felt hollow and the smile he flashed his mom before leaving for school barely concealed the emptiness just beneath the surface.

Other than that first hug, everything else around him, including his friends, school, good food, trolls, even his mom - all things he had coveted during his time in the Darklands - were strange and foreign to him.

Claire and Toby, though they did their best to be understanding and supportive, were obviously thrown off by his sudden mood swings and sullen attitude. They seemed distant and somehow unfamiliar, and Jim found himself feeling awkward around them, unable to figure out what to talk about or why he should laugh at the joke Toby had just made. Didn't they understand that none of this really mattered? There was so much darkness and pain and fear just beneath the skin of this world, and if they scratched the surface just a little too deeply, it could break loose and destroy them all. So he did what he could to avoid these awkward moments all together, and barely noticed the hurt and disappointment blooming in their eyes as he shut them out and walked away.

He'd thought school would be a great return to normalcy, but everything about it grated on his nerves. Even the cheers as he returned to campus - Congrats on beating Jim Lake Disease! - made him feel claustrophobic. He barely held it together anytime Steve cornered him, his heart racing madly in his chest like it wanted to escape, with or without him. The teachers were demanding, the sound of the lockers made his head ache and reminded him too much of the sound of a cage door slamming shut, and once, when Coach had grabbed his arm to show the class proper movement for a volleyball serve, raw, animal fear had overtaken him, and he'd flipped the teacher onto his back and scurried, terrified, under the bleachers. He barely remembered it, except for the pain in his chest, the short, insufficient puffs of breath, and Claire finally coaxing him out after class dismissed and herding him to the nurse. It was a panic attack, she'd said, eyeing him with concern, and had he had any drastic life changes, any unusual stressors? He lied, because he couldn't do anything else, and she told him to consider seeing a counselor anyway.

"Maybe the nurse is right," Claire said on their way to Troll Market that evening. "You're obviously struggling with this. Maybe you should go to counseling, or something." Her voice was soft and soothing, like she was talking to a wounded beast. Perhaps she was.

Jim laughed, a harsh, cold sound that stopped his best friends in their tracks. "Oh, sure, I'll just do that," he said sarcastically, hating himself as the bitterness dripped from his lips like an overflowing witch's brew but unable to stop the words or the emotions that spawned them. "I'm sure there's plenty of shrinks out there that can help me with my troll-induced trauma."

One of the things he'd missed the most was food - good food, not soupy nightmare-creature eggs or slimy soup made from monster meat that was probably not good for humans but that he had scarfed down on the rare occasion that Gunmar had deigned to feed him. Now, he ate because it was expected of him, but he barely tasted the food. Even his favorite recipes were like ash in his mouth, and cooking didn't bring him the pleasure it once had.

If Claire and Toby were baffled by his behavior, their confusion was nothing compared to that of Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, his two closest friends and trainers in Troll Market. Blinky had fretted on more than one occasion that perhaps they had brought home a changeling Jim somehow, not the real one. After all, Jim Lake, Jr. was kind and funny and fun to be around, and this new Jim was brooding and dull and never truly present. Jim saw the worry in Blinky's six eyes and in the anxious set of Aaarrrgghh's jaw, and it saddened him - just not enough to shake him from the waking hell his life had become. Training was a monotonous routine as he gradually built his strength back up, and even Draal, perhaps the least emotionally-inclined of the trolls save for Vendel, found himself hesitantly asking the young Trollhunter if he was okay, if there was anything he needed that might help him feel better. Jim gave him a half-hearted smile, truly touched, but said no. He wasn't sure anything could fix this hole that had been drilled inside of him. It was too dark, too empty, and it hurt too damn much.

His mom had noticed a difference in him too, but she was at a complete loss. Jim tried his hardest to be his old self when he was with her, and being in her company did bring back a spark of his personality, but even so, he saw the concern in her bright blue eyes whenever she looked at him, and he'd seen her at school in conference with Seňor Uhl, and knew that she was trying to get any inkling of what was eating away at her son. Claire and Toby were no help to her, either, for after she had cornered them after school one day, demanding to know what had happened and why Jim was behaving so uncharacteristically, they had taken extra care to avoid her, unable to say or do anything to ease her worry.

***

And so this went on for nearly two weeks before Toby, Claire, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, and Draal met up with the sole intention of finding a way to bring their friend back. He was suffering so much, and no one could truly understand what he had gone through.

"He clearly has signs of PTSD," Claire said heavily, clarifying for a befuddled Aaarrrgghh: "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"This… order?" Aaarrrgghh drawled, eyes wide in concern.

"Disorder, big guy," Toby corrected, heaving a weary sigh. "It means he's been through something traumatic, and he can't deal with it."

"Well, how do humans usually deal with their trauma and stress?" Blinky asked, always straight to business.

Claire and Toby exchanged knowing glances. "Most of the time, we don't. We just avoid it all together," Claire admitted. "But when someone has been through something like Jim has - extended periods of isolation, being a prisoner, abuse - it's not enough to pretend it doesn't exist." A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with the heel of her hand angrily. "I knew he'd be in bad shape when he came back," she admitted. "But he was so happy to see us when we rescued him that I thought that maybe he would be okay."

"What do humans do if they cannot ignore this trah-mah?" Draal enunciated the unfamiliar word. It was quite endearing to see such a hulk of a beast with so much concern in his dark eyes.

"Usually, they see a therapist," Toby supplied.

Aaarrrgghh frowned. "There - I - pissed?"

Toby snorted in almost manic laughter. "Therapist," he repeated, still chuckling. "A person who goes to school to know how to help people with their problems and stuff."

"Well," Blinky said, a new light in his eyes, "we shall venture forth and find Master Jim one of these therapists! Then he'll be back to his old self in no time!" He noticed the dubious expressions on the humans' faces. "What? Are the therapists extinct?"

"No," Claire replied. "But Jim was right - he can't talk to anyone but us about what has happened, and he obviously has no interest in talking to us!"

"Yeah," Toby chimed in, "if he went up to a shrink and told them that he had been stranded in a dark, forbidden hellscape searching for a lost child and then was the prisoner of a crazy troll that wants to escape his eternal prison and conquer the overworld… he'd be thrown in the loony bin for sure."

"So it's hopeless." Blinky's arms fell limp at his sides. "We can do nothing to help Master Jim escape the clutches of PDSC." Neither Toby nor Claire bothered to correct him. Blinky continued, "Is there anything else that might help Master Jim? Anyone else that he might talk to that would not throw him in this 'loony bin'?"

Claire opened her mouth to say no, but shut it abruptly, the light of an idea sparking in her eyes. "Actually," she said, the hint of a real smile making an appearance for the first time in a very long time, "I think I have an idea." When six pairs of eyes locked onto her hopefully, she added, "And it might even be a good one!"

***

When Jim got home from school two days after the secret meeting between his friends he was surprised to hear someone bustling about in the kitchen when he opened the front door. His mom worked late on Tuesdays, and anyway, her car wasn't in the drive. He reached his hand into his bag, paranoia growing, and his fingertips had just brushed the curve of his amulet when a tall Asian woman wearing a smart pantsuit limped into sight. His bag fell to the floor.

"Nomura?"

It was odd seeing her in her human form; after spending so much time around her changeling form in the Darklands, he had forgotten that she was quite pretty as a human. "Hello, Little Gynt." Her voice was also much less grating in this shape, but he found he didn't like the softer tones as much anymore.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, picking his bag up and hanging it on the stair rail, though he closed his hand around the amulet first, clutching it tightly in one fist. It wasn't that he didn't trust Nomura - she had proven herself to be a loyal, if reluctant friend - but because he had come to associate her presence in general with danger. If she noticed his cautionary measure, she didn't mention it. "I thought you left," he added as an afterthought.

"I did, but I came back," she replied vaguely. A stab of annoyance shot through Jim, and even the negative emotion came as a relief - he had felt nothing but fear and numbness since returning home. The change was nice, even if it was fleeting.

"Why?" His eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you were worried about me?"

She studied him with dark, serious eyes for a long moment. "I don't worry about anyone," she finally responded.

Jim felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. She said this, but he could see beneath the surface now. Their time as prisoners of Gunmar had shown him that there was much more to the changeling than met the eye. He waited for the consuming awkwardness that always set in when he was around his friends to descend, but to his surprise, he continued to feel relatively comfortable around Nomura, more at home than he had in a long while.

"Shouldn't you be in a wheelchair or on crutches or something?" he asked, gesturing to her legs. Normally she wore dresses, so he could only assume that the legs of the pantsuit hid some spectacular bruises. "I thought your legs were really hurt."

"They were broken," she agreed. "But my kind heals quickly." She moved forward slowly, then sat on the couch. "They still need a bit of rest to recover fully, though."

Jim sat down across from her in an armchair. "I can't remember if I ever said - thank you, for believing me, for helping me escape." He paused, eyes on his fidgeting hands in his lap. "For being kind."

"Well, I'm more than just a pretty face," Nomura said, and it was impossible to tell if she were joking or not. After a companionable silence, she asked, "So how have you been holding up, Little Gynt?"

Jim didn't know what it was about her, but something made him want to tell Nomura about sleepless night after sleepless night, about the nightmares that plagued him whenever he finally collapsed from exhaustion, about the cavern that had been dug seemingly overnight between himself and his friends, about how he either felt nothing or everything at every moment, about how loud footsteps made him anxious and how physical touch - except hugs from his mom - made him want to wither into himself or run away screaming, about how he had had all these expectations about what life would be like on the other side of Killahead Bridge, and how none of them had come through. He gave her a weak smile, and said, "I'm fine."

An undefinable expression flitted across the changeling's features. "Yeah, kid," she said finally. "I'm fine, too."

***

After that, Jim came home on Tuesdays and Thursdays, his mom's late days, expecting Nomura to be there, because she always was. Sometimes they'd have a cup of tea and sit in silence. Often they'd talk about mundane things - Jim would talk to her about school and his mom, and Nomura would talk about anything from opera to history to art to the strange old man who had flirted with her at the laundry mat Sunday night.

These visits, as ordinary as they were considering she was a changeling and he the Trollhunter, slowly seemed to draw more of the old Jim back out into the light. Talking to Nomura was different than talking with his friends; perhaps it was because she had been there with him in the Darklands, had suffered alongside him at the hand of Gunmar. And the more he talked to Nomura, the easier it was to talk to his friends, too. Slowly, the cavern that had been dug between him and his friends, troll and human alike, began to shrink, and he laughed aloud at a stupid pun Toby made at lunch, and he didn't retreat into himself every time a locker slammed. Still, there was a barrier between himself and his real life, the one he wanted back more than he could express but that was always just out of reach.

He found himself actually complaining to Nomura about this three Tuesdays after he had first found her waiting for him in his home. "Toby spent weeks wearing a magical mask and pretending to be me and to have my life," he said. "Sometimes I just wish that I could put that mask on and be me again too."

Nomura was quiet for several seconds, and then she told a story that seemed to be very much off topic: "When I was a child, I was told stories of the human world. It was a wonderful place, full of light and life and the sun…"

"What does this have to do with-?"

"Shut up and let me talk." When Nomura told you to do something, you did it or risked life and limb. So Jim wisely shut up and let her continue. "I grew up longing to go to that world, to see the sun and to feel the warmth and the light. The surface world was a fairy tale, and I was a little girl who grew up in the dark. Nothing else could have spoken to me more.

"But when I was finally given my chance to come into the world, to take the place of a little Asian-American girl named Zelda Namura, I was separated from my parents and my home, all alone in a world I did not understand, and it didn't matter how much I had dreamed of the sun, it wasn't what I had expected at all.

"Adjusting was… difficult. It was not until the human body I had replaced had grown older and was taken by her family to the opera that I found something that connected me to this world, something to enjoy, something of beauty. But it wasn't until I met another one like me, here in Arcadia, while under the employ of Bular, that I truly felt at home."

"Mr. Strickler," Jim realized.

"Yes. There's something very special about talking with someone - even if it's someone you're not crazy about - that understands you, where you've come from, and what you've been through."

"Is that the moral of this story?" Jim asked, partially touched, partially exasperated. "Are you trying to tell me that talking to you is going to make all of this go away because we've been through the same thing?"

Nomura shrugged. "Who knows? I just think it's a good story. You can take what you want from it."

Jim smiled.

And then everything, like water pushing relentlessly at a weakening dam, broke.

***

Jim could never remember crying the way that he did that evening. He didn't think he was sad, exactly, or hurt, or even angry anymore - he was just exhausted and overwhelmed with everything that he had gone through but kept to himself. The fear and humiliation of his capture, the paranoia that his friends were never going to trust him after he betrayed their them and went to look for Enrique without them, anxiety about Gunmar and the paralyzing horror every time he wondered if there was any way he could have followed them out of the Darklands, how he was having trouble connecting with the world he'd always known, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the numbness and terror that followed him interchangeably, the way that every touch to his arms sent him back to his prison, being dragged painfully between two trolls strong enough to rip him in half with one swift yank…

He talked and cried and had no fewer than two panic attacks, and Nomura just sat there quietly all the while, watching with an unreadable cocktail of emotions in her eyes. When he had finally quieted, his heart feeling both emptier and lighter than it had since before he had made his journey to the Darklands, she simply handed him a packet of tissues she had packed in her purse and asked, "Better?"

He offered her a sniffle and a watery smile, unable to speak anymore, too stunned to fully process what had just happened. She stayed by his side, just being there, until his mom's headlights shone through the blinds. She would climb out the bathroom window and into the night.

Jim slept peacefully that night. If he had bad dreams, he didn't remember them.

***

It was a slow process, even after the cathartic conversation with Nomura. Jim slowly found himself acclimating more and more to his old life, with friends, school, home life, and even troll hunting becoming things to look forward to rather than dread. Loud noises and unexpected touch still startled him, but he was able to ground himself more easily now. He fell into a routine very similar to the one he'd had before, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Cracked ribs, bruises, and cuts healed much faster than emotional scars, but at least he knew, in time, he would be okay. He was acutely aware that nothing would ever be exactly the same as it had always been, though. What he had gone through was something no person, no teenager especially, should have to experience. And while he had entered the Darklands of his own volition, none of what had happened to him there was his fault (at least that's what they told him; it would take a long while to truly believe that himself, but that knowledge, like everything else, would come in time). He had been isolated in the dark, on the run, hunted, captured and held in deplorable conditions, starved and beaten, forced to fight for his life, and nearly broken beyond repair, but he had made it this far.

Things might never be as they were, but he could forge a new path from here. He could grow stronger, adapt, overcome, and prove to Gumnar, to his friends, to troll kind, and to himself that he was more than what had been done to him. He was more than pain and trauma and helplessness and fear and rage.

He was James Lake, Jr., Jim to his friends, the first ever human Trollhunter, the son of Barbara and student of Blinky, Little Gynt, and even, he supposed, Buttsnack. Some days he would only feel like some of these things. On bad days, he wouldn't feel like any of them.

But he wouldn't forget the truth. He wouldn't lose sight of who he was so completely, not again. And, if by some horrible twist of fate he did, he knew now that he had an odd but utterly complete assortment of friends - humans, trolls, and even a couple of changelings - who would help him fight his way out. Out of the Darklands. Out of the past and pain and dark recesses of his own mind.

And into, as cliche as he knew it was, the light.

[amarits]

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

So very many, but rather than go through them I’ll share a scene from Camp Murder. I’ve got a couple chapters of that one written that I keep almost posting. The kiddos are middle-schoolers attending a summer camp, and Roy is having a good ol’ sulk in the woods.

--

Roy had been following rabbit tracks for ten minutes when they stopped abruptly at a set of large cat tracks. He crouched beside them, studying the shape of the pads. Were those cougar tracks? This close to camp? He took pictures of the clearer tracks and started following them. Backwards, of course. The last thing he wanted was to actually find a cougar. But maybe if he could get an idea of where it was coming from, he’d know if it was a risk to the campers. Usually, cougars avoided areas with people. 

He followed the tracks on a winding path out of the thinner, friendlier woods that surrounded the camp into the thicker, untamed forest that stretched on for half the state. He and Ollie had hiked for days through this and never gotten close to the other side. 

In a mile, the flat ground would start rising in small hills that eventually became mountains. They usually did a camp trip to one of the smaller hills at the end of the week, and had a cookout at the top to celebrate “conquering the mountain”. He snorted. It was ridiculous. He and Ollie had climbed real mountains and that took days, not a couple of hours of casual walking. 

He lost the tracks at one of the low rock outcrops stretching out from the mountains. That was probably good. The mountains were where the cougar was supposed to be. Far from camp, and unlikely to bother them when they came out as a group. Still raised the question of why it had come so close in the first place, but maybe it was hunting a deer. 

He walked around the outcrop, looking for more tracks. He should probably start heading back towards camp. It was already going to be almost dinner by the time he got back, and Ollie was only gonna get angrier the later he was. 

His eye caught on another cougar track and he turned to inspect it. It was next to what appeared to be… shoe prints? 

“Hello!” a voice exclaimed at the same time that a small figure swung down to dangle upside down from a branch directly in front of him. 

“Jiminy Christmas!” Roy exclaimed, stumbling backwards and raising his hands in… was that supposed to be a martial arts position? Stupid. What was he going to do, karate chop the threat?

“What are you doing out here?” the figure asked. Now that it was still, Roy could see it was a boy about his age with black hair, blue eyes, and deeply tan skin. Mexican, maybe? His bright orange camp shirt hung down around his shoulders and he swung back and forth on the branch by his knees. 

“What am I doing out here?” Roy asked. “What are you doing out here?”

“Talking to the birds.” He had an accent, but it didn’t sound the same as the Mexican kids he’d met. More European.

“Talking to the… What are you, a Disney princess?” 

The boy grinned like that was a compliment instead of the insult it was meant to be. “Maybe.” He swung harder and let go with his legs, flipping to land on his feet in front of Roy. Roy stepped back to avoid being hit, but shouldn’t have bothered. The boy moved like he was born to fly. 

“I’m Dick,” he said.

“Roy,” Roy replied cautiously. “Do you even know where you are?” 

“Sure!” Dick exclaimed, turning his whole body to point. “Camp is that way.” 

Roy silently pointed in the actual direction, about 40 degrees clockwise from where Dick was pointing. He’d made sure to keep track of landmarks and the sun while he walked so he wouldn’t get lost. 

Dick kept his finger raised. “What makes you think you’re more right than me?” 

“I live here,” Roy said, also continuing to point steadily in the correct direction. He could keep this up as long as Dick could.

“In the woods?”

“Basically. My dad’s a counselor. I’ve been here for months.”

“Huh,” Dick said, mulling this over as he lowered his hand. “That sounds awful.”

“I know, right!” Roy exclaimed. It was the first time someone had said “awful” instead of “great” or “fun” and he felt vindicated. “I am so tired of everything. You’re new, though. Why’d you skip out on activities?”

“They were trying to make us sit still and make bracelets and it was sooooo boring.” As if to punctuate his point, Dick flipped backwards into a perfect handstand, and then just stayed on his hands while he talked. “I asked to use the bathroom, and then a bird was singing at me and that seemed way more interesting so I followed it.” He whistled in an actually pretty good imitation of a chickadee. 

Roy felt weird talking to Dick’s feet, so he crouched to look him in the face. “Well, you’re lucky I found you. You’d probably be lost forever and die.”

Dick didn’t seem at all concerned, which probably meant he was stupid, but at least he was interesting.

“What are you doing out here?” Dick asked, swinging his legs back and forth without his upper body moving at all.

“Following cougar tracks.”

“Cougar?” Dick asked. Roy wasn’t sure if he didn’t recognize it because he was used to a different name for them or if English wasn’t his first language.

“Puma,” Roy said. “Mountain lion.”

At ‘lion’, Dick’s face lit up and he flipped back onto his feet. “Where?”

Roy pointed at the ground under him. “You’ve trampled all over that one.” 

Dick lifted a foot and looked down at the muddled track under his hand and shoe prints. “Whoops.”

“I’m sure there’s another one nearby,” Roy said, searching in the direction the cat seemed to be coming from. There were more shoe prints. Big ones. He glanced back at Dick’s feet. Definitely too big to be his. Poachers, maybe? He scowled. That would explain why the cougar left its territory. 

“What?” Dick asked, trailing behind him.

“Nothing. Here.” He pointed at another pawprint. This one also had a shoe print overlapping the edge, but it was cleaner. 

Dick hurried over and stared down at it. His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. “That’s not a lion track,” he said. “It’s a tiger.”

“It’s not either,” Roy said. “Mountain lion. Lions and tigers live in Africa.”

“Not all of them,” Dick said.

“All the ones that don’t live in zoos.”

“Nuh uh,” Dick insisted. “We have a tiger.” Roy rolled his eyes at the blatant lie. “We used to have a lion too, so I know what the prints look like.”

“Mountain lion,” Roy repeated. “You don’t even know what animal I’m talking about. Mountain lions are smaller and eat deer.” He held a hand at about waist height. He thought that was right. He’d never actually seen one in person, though he and Ollie had turned around a few times when they saw tracks. 

“Then this is definitely a tiger,” Dick said. “Because the prints are tiger-sized.”

Roy gave up on trying to talk sense to him, following the shoe prints instead. It looked like there was more than one style of tread, but it was harder to tell on the dusty slope up the rocky outcrop. They were big, though. Definitely not kids. Could be counselors, but he didn’t think it was likely. Could be a band of poachers. They followed the cougar, not perfectly aligned, but definitely traveling parallel. 

“What are you doing?” Dick asked, following. While Roy tried to walk lightly, separate from the trail he was following, Dick barged through like Godzilla entering Tokyo, destroying the path underfoot. At least we’ll have no problem knowing which way we came from, he thought, annoyed.

“Tracking poachers,” he said. “Probably. I guess they could just be campers.” He didn’t think so, though. Not with how closely they were following the cougar tracks.

Though to be fair, that’s what he and Dick were doing too.

Dick gasped. “They want to kill the tiger?”

Roy felt the last of his patience slipping away. “It’s not a ti—!” His voice didn’t so much trail off as just stop, the rest of his word swallowed by a silence more complete than the end of their voices and steps. There were no bird sounds, he realized. He should have noticed earlier. Prey animals disappeared when predators were around. 

At the top of the outcrop, a man lay much too still, a bleeding gash in his side. Roy knew he was dead before his inhale became an exhale. There was too much blood. His skin was too white. He thought he could see actual guts through the sliced skin, and he was not going to throw up. He was not going to…

Oh, god. He had to at least check. He knew first aid and CPR and pretty much every emergency medical procedure they’d teach a thirteen-year-old. Normally when he was hiking, he had a simple med kit in his pouch, but he didn’t have it, didn’t have any gear at all because he hadn’t planned to be hiking. Stupid, stupid. Ollie had taught him to always be prepared, and the first time his training would have come in handy he was completely useless.

Dick reached the man before him, crouching down and pressing his hands against the open wound. Roy felt like he was pushing through water while Dick ran alongside him on the shore. He finally reached them what felt like minutes later, falling to his knees next to Dick and reaching for the man’s throat. He adjusted his fingers three times.

“There’s no pulse,” he said, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears.

“There must be something we can do!” Dick exclaimed, pushing harder against the wound.

“We can’t save someone who’s dead!” Roy yelled. His eyes lingered on the blood trailing over Dick’s hands. It took his brain a few minutes to register why. The wound was fresh, or it wouldn’t still be bleeding. Recent like the cougar attacked the man, then wandered a couple of miles towards the camp?

Or recent like it came back?

“Dick, we need to go,” Roy said, standing up and backing away, looking into the woods around them for any sign of the big cat. Or anything, really. The birds were still silent. He didn’t hear any rabbits, or squirrels. He didn’t hear anything. 

“We can’t just leave him!” Dick said, turning tear-filled eyes towards him.

“He’s dead!” Roy repeated. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. No signal, of course. It barely even got a signal in the camp. He and Ollie had high-powered walkie talkies and SEND devices for hiking, but he didn’t bring his because he was stupid. 

He turned on the camera instead and started taking pictures. The body with Dick still holding his blood-stained hands to the wound. The surroundings. Anything that might be a landmark.

“What are you doing?” Dick snapped, like he thought Roy was some kind of sick paparazzi. 

“We need to go get someone and bring them back here,” Roy said. “I can get us back to the camp, but I’m not positive I could find our way back here.” He pocketed his phone, still backing up. “Come on, I’m serious. We need to…” 

He stopped. Dick’s head snapped up at the same time, so Roy knew he heard it too. Something that sounded like deep breathing, like a motorcycle revving up, like purring broadcast through a sound speaker. He jerked his head back and forth, trying to find the source and not seeing anything. 

You weren’t supposed to run from a cougar. They’d think you were easy prey. You were supposed to try to look big and intimidating. Fight back if you had to. Grab a stick or a rock. 

But he didn’t see it. It might not see them. It would be a lot simpler to just not encounter it at all than to convince it they weren't easy prey. They were such easy prey. Who was he even trying to kid?

“Run,” he whispered.

Dick didn’t have to be told twice.