#i rarely get a taste of its sweet power

[crenandos]

Pretty privilege has finally come to me at a critical time

I hit up this dispensary I HATE driving to. Like multiple highway splits to get there and back it's chaos I feel like I'm gonna die every time.

They're out of the cheap shit I ordered and I was gonna be like yeah whatevs just give me what $100 can stretch me bro

The dude is the manager and just is like you know what, I'll give you these more premium carts for the same price. Shit that is worth $180 for $90 and my favorite brand (and I tipped him $5, I almost did the full $10 back but was like idk kind of a power move?)

And he's like I close most nights just come back any time for good deals ‼️‼️

What!

Quick act straight 💁‍♀️✨️

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: Angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, Everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 15.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The abandoned industrial building rises without warning from the mist and fog. You could almost call in lonely. Although it has its comfort in its stillness, the same way that monsters that do not move do not instill fear. A foe vanquished but not forgotten.

The body. The dust. The puddle of blood by the door is more than enough evidence for plausible deniability. The faint splatter of it here and there like confetti left after a parade, or flower petals that fall in spring and pile up like snow.

Moonbyul stands in the doorway, like a pagan in a house of God. Out of place and out of mind. Dark coat unblemished by dust or blood. She doesn’t stoop to touch the ground or try and clean up the evidence from Jimin and Jin’s misbegotten hours here. She doesn’t think Hobi’s name, although she knows it.

God does she know it.

She’s poured over all the files that her men have collected about your pack for weeks now. Searching out weaknesses like a snake searches rabbit holes for soft fur and an easy meal. She’d spent the most time lingering over Tae’s file. The photos that shift from short hair to long, lipstick that she finds too pink and distasteful.

Red is better color.

She'd spent a long time pouring over Jin’s too because she’d needed to. Jimin and her cousins had been glossed over. She already knows enough about them to last a lifetime.

But only one file had given her paper cuts. Revenge on paper is not as sweet as it should be.

She doesn’t need to read that file anymore. Although she hears the words that the youth said so many months ago on repeat, you and Hobi in the coffee shop caught only on security camera. “I think I heard something I shouldn’t have”. As well as the ones that followed.

Contrary to popular belief, Moonbyul doesn’t like killing. She views it only as a necessity. She looks at the blood on the floor without any disgust. It’s been a long time since she’s cleaned up any alpha's mess, and she’s not going to start now.

She looks down at the blood and smiles. It’s a rare thing- seeing her smile. It’s different from her grin that bares her teeth. Sharped incisors changed and honed just before she’d been appointed the head of the moon family.

She remembers her mother's words when she’d looked at them in the mirror for the first time, She remembers that she could still taste the file they'd used to carve them. Metallic, like blood on her tongue.

“All the most dangerous alphas have fangs; you’ll need to learn to use them if you want to fill your father’s shoes.”

Familial death is more of a rite of passage than a time for mourning in the family. A time when power shifts and secrets get covered up or aired out. Like the moon waxing and waning.

Moonbyul hadn’t been born with fangs, the way alphas always are. Moonbyul hadn’t been born with a lot of things.

A smiling Moonbyul is either a happy or a bloodthirsty one. And a happy Moonbyul, when properly stroked- means they get privileges.

Privileges in their pack, amount to small little things most of the time. A night where they don’t have to take the heat inducers. A night where they can wear comfy sweats instead of the lingerie and stifling silk. But if they're extra sweet and good they get better things. A free evening where they can see their families as long as they come home before sunrise.

“Do you think he’s dead?” Solar is dressed as her clone today, with stockings pulled up her milky thighs flashing beneath the long hem. Extra extra cute in the way that she loops her arm into Moonbyuls and pouts. as if she's upset that her alpha is paying more attention to the murder than her.

She still smells faintly of sex, moonbyul, and her own ginger scent. Not like fresh cut- the kind that baked goods have around Christmas time.

Moonbyul smiles, rapping her long nails against where Solar's arm is curled around hers clinging to her as if her life depends on it. It does- Moonbyul and her both know it does. But Solar has always been a good pet. She’s never needed quite as much correction as Wheein who likes to know exactly where her cage ends and begins, or like Hyejin- who needs nearly as much combatting and careful maneuvering as their enemies.

She'd learned from Hyejin. Had never let the others have quite as much freedom or get used to challenging her. There's a reason why Hyejin had demanded to wear her mating mark and why Moonbyul had let her have it.

Omega's however sweet and however docile, still need a cage. Moonbyul's only ever tried to branch out of her tastes once, and she won't ever do it again. Disastrous as alphas are. They make piss-poor lovers and disobedient needy pets.

She sighs. Alphas and their messes.

In truth, the pack could use someone truly obedient, someone for whom being good is as easy as breathing to balance them out. The pack could use a good pup. The pack could use you.

Moonbyul burns in want, stewing in it ravenous. It’s not love, it’s not even really lust either. She’s never been an easily sated person. She’s always wanted too much, always finished the whole pint of ice cream in one sitting. She’s always wanted everything.

That’s why she’s smiling, because she’s about to get it.

She stands a little straighter, holding out her palm. “Why don’t we go see.” Moonbyul doesn’t turn to leave, however. She doesn't walk towards the body dumped at the back of the building, still bearing Jin's fingerprints. A single strand of hair would do it. She doesn’t make any move other than to reach into her pocket and take out a lighter.

She thinks of the family's assassins; The Bee, The Spider and The Wolf. She thinks of Park Jimin. The snake. Hopefully either dead or in the process of dying.

The body in the back of the building is another one of hers. She never thought that this would be the end of the Wolf, he'd always been one of their most reliable killers. Always showed up on time too, an exemplary employee. Not to be easily duped. She'll have to figure this out and pin down What did him in. But that will take time and energy, only one of which she has.

He was only supposed to wait in the wings and ensure that neither Park Jimin nor Kim Seokjin left this building alive, nothing more.

Sometimes things are just coincidences, sometimes if you're lucky- they're just bad luck.

This doesn't feel like bad luck, this feels like revenge.

Solar makes a noise in her throat, a questioning chirp. She really is trying to be her cutest right now. Moonbyul won’t reward her in a way that she likes, a way that she wants. Even songbirds still feel the itch to fly. Clipped wings and all.

She looks at the flame, sparking.

“Why won’t you just leave the evidence? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Solar is not as good as Hyejin at handling this sort of thing, not as experienced. But she’s currently handling other more important things. Things that need her finer touch.

Solar doesn’t understand why Moonbyuls going to light this place up like a fucking Christmas tree and do Seokjin’s dirty work for him. Solar is only a pup, and she’s been kept like that because Moonbyul likes pupish omegas.

She likes the innocence and obedience that people who weren't made for this kind of life have. So eager to please that they're willing to debase their souls. There is no greater sacrifice, no greater sign of love than someone willing to do anything for you.

This also happens to be why she likes you. Why she will have you. because neither Solar nor Wheein have ever been as good at this as you were. The perfect medium between sinful and pious. Cute even while killing.

And 5 is a prettier number than 4. 3 pups for her and Hyejin is a prettier number than 2. They need more than one for each.

Just one more pup, and then their collection will be complete. It took them so long to find the right one, so much trial and error. (Moonbyul despises errors. She's going to try and kill one before this is through)

She won’t let you slip through their grasp, not a second time. You should have never been Yoongi's.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to leave this as evidence? So that the FBI gets them all? We could just like- buy them off if they wanted to take her too-”

“Oh pup” she croons, half gentle. Flicking the lighter and letting it burn in front of her face before she tosses it The soil is so soaked through with gasoline that it lights as easily as a candle, slowly spreading from wall to wall and then- in the doorway, until the heat is too much and they have to move away.

“That wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?”

~-~

(Now, Namjoon)

Namjoon’s shirt is soaked so thoroughly with blood that it makes him cold. The hospital always feels cold, goosebumps rise like a mini mountain ranges on his arms. The hair pressed down where the blood has dried.

It’s not his first time covered in blood, but this time feels different.

He’s shivering, teeth clattering. His hands shake almost too bad to fill out the intake paperwork because he’d rather do it now than later. Park Jimin (registered, Kim) Alpha, weight 165 lbs (give or take a few). Blood type AB. No medications. No known allergies, no known prior conditions. No no no.

No.

Namjoon’s hands shake. He leaves Jimin’s ‘occupation’ blank.

Yoongi sits a few paces back, staring vacantly off into space. On the surface Namjoon would assume that he’s having no reaction and is feeling absolutely heartless about everything that's happened in the last 3 hours. But his breath becomes stuttered every few minutes, like he has to manually force himself to inhale and exhale. Like it’s taking all of Yoongi’s faculties to keep himself breathing and upright and not in a heap on the floor having a mental breakdown.

He kind of wishes Yoongi was crying and screaming instead. Then at least- Namjoon would feel like he had to be the strong one.

He can't get the feeling of stabbing Jimin out of his head, or the sound it it, the wet squelch of knife hitting skin.

Namjoon has cut into people thousands if not hundreds of thousands of times by now. But he’s only cut into someone he loves once, and god Namjoon never wants to do it again- won’t ever be able to touch warm prone flesh and hurt it, not after Minnie. Never again.

The pen in his hand weighs a million pounds. He contemplates asking for a piece of paper and writing out his resignation letter. he breathes in for 5 and out for 9, then sets it down on the clipboard and slides it across the counter for the nurse to take. Namjoon doesn’t hear her quiet tone asking him if he's alright and if there's anything she can do. just shakes his head on instinct.

There is a gaggle of nurses looking around the corner peering at Dr. Kim.

"Do you think he dresses like that outside of work hours?" "I never thought I'd be so attracted to jeans and a tee-shirt." Giggling in quiet voices.

It feels so strange, to hear people laughing while Jimin is dying. Namjoon almost wants to go bite their heads off and report them for poor bedside manner to the hospital manager.

This is Namjoon’s hospital. But Namjoon can’t find it in himself to smile or say thank you to the nurse when she tells him that the second she gets any news on Jimin, he'll be the first to know. He can’t say anything through the mountain of emotion in his throat.

If Namjoon’s love is a mountain, then his anguish is a river threatening to drown him. Yoongi smells like it- the line where water turns clear to brackish, Yoongi’s miserable scent has always smelled like the churning sea and now something that feels an awful lot like seasickness makes Namjoon sway on his feet.

Since he’s done with the paperwork, he promptly returns to Yoongi’s side and sits down. Only once he's sure he's stationary, does he pull a nearby wastebasket over between his knees to upend the contents of his stomach. It hits the top of old gauze pads crumpled up at the bottom and smelling like piss with a surprisingly violent sound, drawing the gaze of more than one person in the waiting room. At least it finally quiets the giggles.

Yoongi’s hand finds Namjoon’s knee, the hole in his jeans, The back of his ribs, stroking once twice. steady and hard the way that Namjoon likes. And Namjoon wishes he could snap at Yoongi. Wishes he didn’t curl into the touch. Wishes he was angrier. Wishes Jimin was perfectly alive and breathing and not going to-

Yoongi’s hand settles on the back of Namjoon’s neck, his throat, pulse hammering, thudding.

They’re just kids and Yoongi's hands are calloused. They've always been.

Deep down Namjoon still feels like he’s only 8 years old. Is just a kid and just starting to understand that the world isn’t all just papercuts and skinned knees; that it means something when people hurt. That it means something when you tell them you won’t let them hurt anymore.

He remembers promising Jimin something similar- a long time ago, the summer they all first met:

Namjoon remembers Jimin, standing in the apartment that wasn't theirs yet, after a movie night, the first movie night that the pack had ever had togeather (not totally togeather, becuase you and hobi hadn't been there yet but still).

It was the first time Namjoon had ever seen Jimin in something other than a designer sweater, sweats and a tee-shirt so ordinary that Namjoon was surprised it didn't make him look less intimidating. standing in the doorway waiting for Namjoon to notice him and look up from his medical journal.

"Yes Minnie? Did you need something?" jimin had shifted from foot to foot. looking up at jimin, a first slice of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Tae and Jungkook, they've got a bit of pain in them. I want to know what you intend to do with it." namjoon set his glasses to the side, the papers rustling as he forgets his reason.

"Make it better hopefully?" Namjoon had been struck with how oddly intense he'd been. Jimin had opened up with time and had gone sweet and trusting with the right amount of love. But he'd looked intimidating in his dark clothes and the wrinkle between his eyes like he was used to furrowing his eyebrows. A cute detail that Namjoon already wants to brush away. To touch. to cradle. To love.

He'll catalogue all of Park Jimin's cutest things in time. He'll treat love as a scavenger hunt, to find the softness in someone who tries so outwardly to be gruff and strong.

Namjoon's stained sleep clothes and promises felt all the more shabby in comparison.

"I need you to promise."

Namjoon had avoided it. Unwilling to meet his words with the same intensity. Jimin doesn't take chances with Jungkook and Tae. Tae's low laugh from the other room, Yoongi's matching grumble, overly fond already. Overly fond from the beginning.

"What about you? Doesn't everyone have pain?"

"Just promise."

"I promise to look after the three of you." Jimin had scoffed. Puffing up like a bird with too many feathers.

"I don't need looking after. Just them- when I go away for work."

"I know, but let me do it anyway." Smiling at the pretty alpha was so easy, so easy with the sounds of Jungkook and Jin's giggles in the other room. Laughter building itself into the walls around them.

"I promise not to hurt you or them. You have my word."

Namjoon lied, Namjoon lied back then and he didn't even know it. He upends his stomach again and Yoongi rubs down his spine.

“He’s not going to die Joon, he’s going to be fine.” Namjoon continues to empty his stomach, it’s pizza mostly, a bit of coffee, and a half-digested protein bar from this morning as well.

“Does hurting the people you love ever get easier?” Namjoon asks. Honesty, not anger in his tone.

Yoongi’s hair has gotten longer and hangs in his eyes. Yoongi never grew his hair out before you, always kept it in that short black sort of coconutty style. It makes him look older and all the more beautiful. Namjoon wonders if that’s why you like it; How regal it makes your mate look.

Yoongi has asked so much of Namjoon in the last few years, from leaving to coming back and bringing you. To hiding the mating mark and now this. Namjoon tells himself he should care more about Yoongi's lies and less about the fact that he just lied, period.

“No,” Yoongi grimaces. He always gets so quiet when things are bad, steady in that consistent way. He still hasn't stopped stroking Namjoon's back. Namjoon knows this is simply all Yoongi knows how to do, his first instinct is to love and not much else. “It was never easy.”

It’s not weird that they re-hash this now. Every time Namjoon learns more about how and why Yoongi left, he understands it more.

“I threw up too, just so you know- when I left, leaving you made me so sick that I hurled the second I got on that train. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He blinks back wetness in his eyes, “I don't remember if I've ever told you that."

Namjoon nods. He can't remember right now either.

It’s been an hour or so now since Yoongi drove fast but steady steady steady to the hospital. Namjoon in the back while he stabilized Jimin in much the same fashion that you'd done earlier. The rest of the pack should be here soon. The three of you only lingered behind to clean up a bit and change your clothes, covered with blood and muck and who knows what else.

Yoongi sits like a statue and Namjoon can’t even look at him, can’t ask any questions or even start because he already feels like he’s yelling, and Namjoon hates yelling. This isn't isn’t exactly the most private venue for secrets that could land Jimin in jail.

Namjoon's still not entirely convinced that stabbing him was worth it. Namjoon’s brain is dizzy with terror. He’s still dizzy when he turns and sees you walking through the front doors to his hospital, Jin and Hobi trailing behind you.

He remembers the way you’d looked the day they’d gotten you checked out for the first time; how you’d run and pressed your face to his chest and buried your face there like just the sound of Namjoon's heart could make every demon and monster go away. For a moment, Namjoon thinks you might do the same thing. But your steps are measured, slow, and purposeful.

Namjoons eyes train on you, following you as you walk,

Yoongi stands, leaving Namjoon sitting with a cooling pail of vomit between his legs. he says something to you, to jin, but you don't pause, continuing until you're standing in front of him.

You don't say anything to him, just peer into the bucket and make a disgusted face down at it. Namjoon's teeth feel too sharp in his mouth with such a tense jaw.

Hoseok is on the phone, face gaunt and tired-looking. He must have drawn the short end of the stick and has the job of calling Jungkook and Tae and telling them what happened. They really shouldn’t drive themselves, but all Namjoon can reasonably do is restrain himself from cornering you and Jin and start demanding answers. 

He barely even turns to Jin when the omega goes up to the desk and asks if they can have a room, please. A private place for the pack to nurse their worries and not crowd the already-packed waiting room. Namjoon couldn’t name the nurse by name right now if he wanted to but he’s well known here and well-liked too. They give them one of the adjacent exam rooms to wait- Jimin’s surgery will take a few hours more, and there isn’t anything to do but wait.

Terrible terrible waiting, terrible terrible time. (You get a bucket when you want a drop and a drop when you want a deluge. Time only comes in two increments; too much or not enough.)

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes. 

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction. Staggering.

You’d taken precious seconds to change your blood stained clothes before following Namjoon. You all pulled on the first things you could get your hands on. Which is how you’ve ended up in your mate’s shirt and Jungkook’s jacket, and how Hoseok’s in one of Tae’s extra-large pink sleep shirts stained from hair dye underneath Namjoon’s puffer coat and a pair of jungkook's grey work out sweats. Jin had been a little bit more purposeful- his sweatpants match- his matching purple set.

Namjoon's shirt is dark from blood, the bloodstain drying crusty, sticking to his skin like glue.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful. He doesn't walk to the chairs no- he bee-lines it to you.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path. 

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of fear is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting.

You tremble but you do not move to avoid him when he corners you.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, inches away from low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again- harder before you get a chance to speak- to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. Namjoon holds your face the same way he held the knife- tenderly.

“I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, leaving you gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your shoulder and neck, You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His spiky silver hair hits your skin. Rough.

After a second, he opens them again. Nodding. And his scent loses its bitter edge. He guides you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. Your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat. 

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around you, a shield and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in, a half hearted scruff that feels a bit like an apology of his own.

Even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything. Especially with you. His anger will only make you afraid and although Namjoon cannot be expected to control his emotions all the time, you have no reason to fear him.

He's never going to hurt you. He promised.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. The plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin's on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you.

You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery. Every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm. the first few hours when it will go off twice and prompt examination of his vasculature and operation site as well as a fresh dose of blood thinners. The biggest danger going forward will be blood clots; one too large in jimin's arm could leave his hand with nerve damage, numb for good.

But for now, Namjoon looks down at you, yoongi, and jin sitting in the plastic chairs. Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I'll-"

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces." 

"You don't honestly expect me not to be angry that I had to stab jimin do you-"

"No, but don't yell at her. I have my limits."

"I wish I was one of those limits, but i'm clearly not since you insist on fucking over our pack-"

Jin turns, cutting them off from their argument with the true shock of his next words. You know that's what he's intending- but it sort of backfires. "Joonie, Don't get mad at Yoongi or her for this. Especially since I'm the one who shot Jimin. It was an accident."

You flinch, then put your head in your hands, namjoon's scent goes impossibly thick and angry for a second before he gets it under control. You physically watch Namjoon's hackles raise. watch Yoongi push back in his chair, leg jumping, running his hands through his hair looking from you to Jin, then back again.

"Jin, you should have kept that to yourself."

"What the fuck-"

Namjoon looks like he doesn't know weather to cry or laugh. "You don't just shoot someone on accident-"

Jin's got the best scoff, one worthy of music screens not just the quiet tomb of this room. Your relationship that's dying all around you. "You don't just stab someone on accident either and yet here we are-"

There are some secrets you take to the grave and others that you keep for too long, so long that they make a grave out of you. Keeping secrets is like keeping someone else's heart beating, you run out of blood eventually. 

You might vomit up the truth all over the hospital floor just like Namjoon did a few minutes ago. You feel sick and light-headed and sort of like you might have low blood sugar. namjoon's scent, angry alpha affects you more than you realize.

You start to teater, and their next biting words get extinguished when you almost fall out of the chair, nearly sliding to the floor before Namjoon catches you. One knee dully aches as he picks you up like you weigh nothing, ducking in close, real concern in his face, all his anger gone.

"Shit are you okay?"

"Pup?"

"Just got lightheaded-" Whatever it was, your lightheadedness will have to wait for another time. It's honestly probably just stress. Your heart feels like it's beating extra fast, extra hard.

Namjoon places you gently back in the chair and Yoongi touches your shoulder, the trio of their concerned faces that you swat away.

"We should wait for Hobi." You still owe him an explanation- for earlier and these aren't the kind of secrets you say more than you have to. A cup of water gets thrust into your hands and for once, they fall silent.

When Hobi comes in he’s mostly quiet holding his phone in his hand. Looking at you from across the room. His soulful eyes watching you, head tipping to the side in deference.

"Tae's in-" It takes him a second to gather his words. "Tae's in a fucking state. She was crying so hard that Jungkook had to call them an Uber. I just told her Jimin had been stabbed and nothing else because I didn't know what to tell her."

"That's probably for the best we don't have to-" your mate starts, but Namjoon cuts him off.

"No, no more secrets. Not between any of us."

Hoseok still has a hickey from you on the side of his neck, from you earlier. Jin's fingers skim down the one on your shoulder where a mirrored mark sits knocking you out of your Hobi-induced reverie, red and bruising from his mouth. Jin raises his eyebrow at you, but now is not the time to tell him about you and hobi.

"We've got like- maybe 30 minutes until they get here."

You swallow past a lump in your throat, readying yourself for it, “better make it quick then,” Namjoon waits, Seokjin is silent, watching you, gaze flickering from you to Hobi every few blinks. Yoongi holds onto your knee, sliding his palm down to your hand, your wrist. Finger digging into the sensitive scent gland there and rubbing comforting circles.

You swallow hard. “We’re all on each other's sides, right?”

“Of course,” Jin crosses his arms like he's offended you even had to ask. You bite back your retort. Namjoon nods, so does Hobi.

Your hair flops as you nod. But you still look to Yoongi to wait for permission. After a breath your mate nods and spreads his hands, giving you the floor.

If there’s one thing you know it’s that you can’t do this alone, you and Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Tae. You and Hobi. There is no separation here, not when it comes to your safety. Each of you cannot keep the rest safe on your own.

“I met Jimin a few months before I met Yoongi, I…Yoongi’s family-”

Yoongi resists the temptation to speak for about 10 seconds when you fall silent. You can sense the moment that the truth shifts, when it explodes at Yoongi’s tongue. Unbidden but frantic and relieving like it's taken Yoongi's whole being to keep all this in.

“My family, I've never liked calling them that. Blood means nothing to me, you guys, you guys were always my family more than them." The pack is silent but you lace your hands with his and nudge his thigh with yours, encouraging him to go on.

"My relatives run the largest network of organized crime on the East Coast, from Boston to Miami. Everything from racketeering to prostitution to production and distribution of pharmaceutical-grade opioids. cover ups, sale of illegal weapons, extorsion of political officials and blackmail. If you can think of a crime they do it. If you can think of a way to make money, they've got their hands in it. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t go home- why my parents-”

Yoongi breaks off, his voice going small and quiet. Wounds he doesn’t talk about- even to you.

“There’s maybe 200 of us now. I’ve got a lot of fucking aunts and uncles. We try to stay in our lanes, our cities, and deal only in our respective crimes. There's a lot of politics and a lot of people vying for control here and there, but only alphas are allowed to lead, omega's increases the bonds of power in other ways and beta's- You know how rare beta's are- in my family- i'm treated as second only to the family head. Being a beta offered me certain liberties. Other freedoms. Not only to avoid most of the violent stuff- but to leave and move around without asking for permission. It's like a get out of hell free card. Not everyone gets that."

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, “You mean they didn’t exactly expect you to go about popping heirs or advancing the family business through murder and ruining innocent people's lives. not like they expected with me."

Hoseok shrivels his nose, He looks from you to Yoongi- eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “hang on i thought- Are you guys trying to say you’re fucking related or-”

“Oh my god daisy-”

You splutter, “gross- No, we’re not fucking like- blood-related or anything.” You tap your chest. "I'm non family- brought in from the outside. Which means I was just about as valuable as piss to the aunts. In our world the only reason to mate or marry is for power- any other reason and your spouse is considered disposable." you cross your legs, admitting something you've kept to yourself, not a secret just a suspicion. "Geumjae never intended to keep me around forever."

Seokjin makes a strangled noise and Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, “Jesus Christ.”

Hobi raises his hands bare, “Sorry! You’re not doing a good job of explaining!”

"Well, if you just gave me a minute to get to the point-" Yoongi seems to shake himself, to put himself together. “Like she said- I'm not expected to partake in the family buisness, Only alphas are allotted that 'honor'." Yoongi puts the words in quotations and adds an eye roll for good measure.

"Mainly- I’m treated as some sort of glorified advice Column. People call and ask me things and I’m required to answer or else they’d hunt me down and drag me back. They bring me in to coordinate stuff because I'm a beta and I keep everyone calm and keep them from killing each other and shooting out their squabbles. I tried to keep you guys safe that’s why I left but-“

Jin’s hand goes to yours, nodding, because he understands. “But not why you stayed away.”

“No. It's not.” The pack's eyes naturally stray to you.

“The heads of houses report to the family head and she directs them to me if they need a beta's touch. Only she hasn't- the new Don hasn't asked anything of me since taking power. When the last one died- my grandparents- I left to help with the transition. But the new Don doesn't need me."

You flinch, you try to hide it but Yoongi turns, ferreting out that there's a secret there without you having to confess it. Your voice is darker than they’ve ever heard. "It's not that she doesn't need you- it's that she doesn't trust you."

Yoongi tries not to sound accusatory. "Her trust isn't something you should be after."

“It’s not- promise I just-” You pick at a stray thread on your pants.

The linoleum floor in front of you is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. "She shouldn't trust me either- and she knows it. Believe me she knows it."

Now it's Yoongi's turn to look at you. To pull himself to the edge of his chair to try and get in front of you. A wordless question that he dares not speak.

"Before you, I was already trying to do whatever I had to survive. including doing what everyone else did back in that hellhole and ask for help-"

Yoongi stands, to much energy and panic in his body to stay seated. “You didn’t." This is a fight and a confession you shouldn’t have In front of the rest of them.

You look up at Yoongi, eyes beseeching. He's quiet and you make your words as measured and soft as you can. "I asked your grandparents first- and then when she told me as long as I did what she said she'd get me out I-"

“She’s more dangerous than Geumjae, you can’t have honestly been trying to trade one captor for another."

The whole pack is silent, watching the two of you. Not really understanding. But Jin- Jin pursues his lips. You don't know how he knows but he does.

Yoongi’s face goes truly white. Yoongi’s hands are shaking. Shaking until he grabs the handles of your chair, knees to the ground, bowed in front of you. Letting your silence stew for a second.

Maybe it’s a terrible thing to blame it on her, you hadn’t fought not to kill. But back then it had really felt like your only way out, the only way to escape the ever-suffocating pressure of trying not to die.

“For what it’s worth, I had no idea what they meant to you when she made me help her kill them.”

Something shifts in Yoongi’s stature, from surprise and shock to resignation so quickly you almost miss it. A tense set to his jaw but a tight-lipped understanding as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and he rests his forehead on your knees.

He's very careful in his words. Slow with them and intentional when he lifts his head and stands. You don't know if they're lies. “Just like my parents, just like all of us in the family, I knew their days were numbered anyway.” But you loved them once you want to say. You’re not sure why you want Yoongi to be angry at you.

“I won’t apologize, not for what I had to do to survive.”

Yoongi cradles your cheek. Something dark and conflicted in his eyes.

“I know, but I’d forgive you anyway, even if you did it out of anger.”

“And Jimin?” Namjoon asks, Yoongi's hand drops from your cheek. "How does he connect to all of that?"

“I met him first, I asked him.” You hesitate. This isn't your secret to tell and you don't even know all of it- like how jimin even became an assassin or started killing. you don't know his motives. It's one thing to confess your own sins, and another to talk about Jimin's to them without his say-so.

Jin darts forward, holding your hand in both of his, “Whatever we say in this room- I’d never dream of recording. I’m not on anyone’s side but ours.” Jin screws his eyes shut tight, willing you and Yoongi to believe him. "Even with the FBI thing."

Namjoon whirls. He doesn't have to ask before Jin's spilling it. telling the truth.

Jin is measured with his speech, but it's his turn. No more secrets, that's what you've all agreed. "I've been working with the FBI for the last 8 years. They approached me back before we met Joonie- because of my proximity to Yoongi. First as an informant, then an agent and now the head of the task force.

"I only did it because I figured out that being a part of them was the easiest way to keep Yoongi out of jail. As long as I could reasonably assume I was the only one trusted and close enough to keep an eye on him, I could keep all the truly damning evidence out of their hands."

Jin turns to you, resisting the urge to reach out to you for his own comfort, you're looking at him like he's got three heads, but he smiles down at you, that pup-soft smile that he saves just for you when you're both nesting.

"I kept your name off of the photocopies of the recipie you used to kill them. Don't worry, no one but us knows." You look at Jin with new eyes, not a double agent but not an enemy either. Somewhere in between. Your heart pulses, and you grip his hand back.

Yoongi pulls his hands through his hair, angry, his tone grave "Well there's your reason-"

Hobi has been so quiet you've honestly almost forgotten he was there. Elbows balanced on his knees and watching the three of you on trial for Namjoon. "Answer to what."

"You don't understand Jin, you don't understand the laws of the family much less the one you've broken."

"The reason why someone's trying to kill you, if anyone finds out that Y/n killed them- everyone connected to them is fair game."

"You mean-"

"We're all done, if anyone finds out, that's probably why the new head of house was trying to take Jin out- to tie up a loose end."

"Hang on, I'm getting confused again." Hobi runs his hands through his hair, and it fluffs up. "Jimin's what again?"

“Jimin is an assassin, I asked Jimin to kill my husband for me but he said no.” You pick at a strand of thread on your pants, unwilling to look up and meet any of their eyes, not Namjoon’s or Jin’s. “Met him back when we meant nothing to each other. He still feels guilty for not saving me. We talked it out a while ago. It’s okay- I did it myself eventually- didn’t need anyone’s help.”

You look up at Yoongi and he looks like he might want to laugh or cry and can't pick which. “I don’t know much else about Jimin other than that he kills for the family."

"They've got people for everything, a few assassin's they keep on retainer," Yoongi clarifies. "People that anyone can hire if you've got the money for it. There are a few names that the family puts on a no-kill list, Children, the pack mates of the ruling pack, the heads of houses and their immediate packmates. If anyone kills a person on the no-kill list- their life is forfeit. I'm on it by default. The pack mates of the beta are on it too, All of you are on it. No one should be trying to kill you."

Yoongi's never paid much attention to the list, the waxing and waning names and faces and photos. he's been on it since before he was born and with no intent to kill or harm anyone and put himself even potentially in harm's way, he's never sought it out.

Maybe if he had, things would go differently.

A cold rush of realization rushes over you. "That's why Jimin and Jin ended up there" You stand up, adrenaline in your hands. "She was hoping they'd take each other out so she wouldn't have to break family law to kill them."

Yoongi shakes his head, "Something about this doesn’t feel right- something about this isn’t normal.”

Hobi’s phone dings before you can hash it out anymore. He looks down in his lap. “They're here,” he’s up and out of the chair, heading out the door and into the hall so quickly that the rest of you have to chase after him. Namjoon tugs you to your feet, staring at Yoongi and Jin. "Was that enough?" you ask.

"We'll talk more later." is all he says. But he does lace his hands with yours and pull you after Hobi. Your legs are so short you have to take two steps for every one of theirs.

“I wish Tae and Kookie were here for that-“

"They should know” your mate agrees, keeping pace with you in the hallway, dropping back with you when Namjoon accidentally lets go in his haste to get through the door. You make eye contact with Yoongi when you turn. Your back to one of those push doors using your body weight to push through it.

You pause, waiting with Yoongi on the other side of them.

“If anyone tells her about Minnie- should be me.”

(You know exactly how you’ll do it, you’ll tell Tae the story of you just like this. You’ll tell it like a story, with author notes and playlists near the end. You’ll talk about Jimin just like this; all of the good parts and all of the bad all in one. So that she might truly understand that having a choice doesn't always mean you're free to do whats right.)

Yoongi nods, “I can tell Jungkook. I think if I do it gently, he won’t get shocked enough to have a seizure.”

You pause before the doors open, to have just a moment with the two of you, just you and him leaning against it. He shifts closer, not holding you, hands by his side but he's close enough that you could rest your head on his shoulder. You do rest your head on his shoulder. Just to hear his heartbeat thud sluggish and heaven-sent against your ear.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” It feels like it’s been ages and ages since you’ve had a quiet moment with him like this. You resolve to have one, to make space for him when this is all over. A private date with just the two of you maybe. Whenever Jimin comes home. “To help with Jimin.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I killed your grandparents.”

“They weren’t good people,” Yoongi shrugs, you've never seen a sadder shrug. “I always knew that. They-” yoongi breaks off, stealing himself for a quiet confession. "I think they might have had a hand in killing my parent. She didn't like it- that they had so much power over me. Future of the family and all."

"You've never said-"

Yoongi pushes through the door, and a high pitched keening cuts off your next words. "Later."

You push through the door and Tae and Jungkook are already there. Entering through the outside doors with a puff of air into Namjoon and Jin's waiting arms. Namjoon holds Tae up as she wails and wails. Her cry high like a nightingale. Jungkook looks pale and shaky, settled under Hobi's shoulder clearly in shock.

You cut through them, ducking under Jin's outstretched arm and colliding with Tae before anyone else can join Namjoon in holding her. falling to little heap on the linoleum floor, just at the precipice of the long hallway that connects to the patient rooms and the nurse's stations to other surgical suites. Drawing countless stars, countless looks from passersby as Tae's sobs renew themselves, loud and broken.

You clinging to each other. Her arms around your shoulders, cradling your head like it's the last safe thing in the universe.

“Jimin,” her voice breaks, throat closing around nothing. Sobs wet and angry, hot tears dripping down her cheeks, big and unabated by hope. "Minnie- My Minnie-"

You cling back, getting your hands on her cheeks. “He’s gonna be fine, he’ll be alright- here- here let me help you up. We've got you Tae-”

Jungkook looks a bit better, a little bit less like he’s drowning. Jin reaches for him while you hold onto Tae. And JK’s nostrils flare, he steps back, looking Jin up and down. Tae clings to you on the floor of the hospital and you look up at them. At Jin and Jungkook, standing a pace apart. Jungkook's hands keep Jin from coming any closer.

“You smell like Jimin does when he comes home from his trips, you smell like gunpowder. And mucky-” Jungkook's voice breaks, "Jin? Why do you smell like blood?"

There are too many people around, too many people for something like this. You're just glad It’s a quiet omission, Jungkook’s scent is level and so is his breath.

Maybe you should give him a lot more credit. Yoongi might not have to tell him much.

Tae's tears hit your collarbones as she crushes you, sobbing loudly in your ear, immune to the string of sweet nothings that fall from your lips. Whispered against her temple.

To everyone else in the hallway, rushing in the late-night hum, you and Tae look just the way that you’d expect; Two girls clinging to each other, one tall and the other short. One an alpha and the other an omega.

The rest of the pack is so blinded by their concern and their terror that they don’t look up. They don’t look down the hall to see the figure standing there watching them. One second the hallway is empty of the dark figure and then next she's there- waiting for you.

Her pine and medicine scent is disguised by the smell of death that lingers here. Although more than 2 of the people there might recognize it if they had the patience to sniff it out. They're too distracted by Yoongi dragging Jungkook close and whispering in his ear to keep his voice down.

Moonbyul watches the scene from the end of the hall. Two coffees in her hands. One for her and one for you because she always assumes that you'll go with her when she asks. No matter what’s going on with your pack, Moonbyul is not the kind of person who you say no to. She’ll ask nicely for you to come one more time.

Or so she thought. Looking at you and Tae holding each other is giving her other ideas.

To love a man is something she's always been able to dismiss as a mistake. Little pups just don't know what they need and even less what they want. She'd been prepared to deal with you loving them, the alphas, on paper, even the admittedly pretty omega male currently in her cousin's arms.

But another woman? Even one like that?

Rage is not like other sorts of anger, it’s not like fire burning to take. Achieng to burn until all the heat has worked itself out. Rage is quiet, rage is darkness and a hunger that needs to consume. That will destroy even if you try to stop it.

It's one thing to know that you love a woman besides her, and another to see you peck kisses along her tearstained cheeks. The rage builds as she watches you cup that female alpha’s cheeks. She watches you brush her hair back from her eyes and tuck it behind her ears. She’s got honeyed skin and smudged lipstick (so inelegant) you wipe her tears away and kiss her cheek.

But what makes Moonbyul’s hands tighten into claws, her metal-tipped nails piercing the coffee cups and making them drip onto the ground, wet and hot, is the way you smile at her.

Moonbyul’s rage is like a tidal wave.

By the time the rest of the pack looks up, the hallway is empty except for a puddle of coffee on the linoleum floor and two discarded cups. One with red lipstick stains and the other without.

~-~

(18 hours later, Jimin)

Tae’s cheek is so soft. That’s the first thing that Jimin’s aware of as he wakes from surgery.

Coming out of general anesthesia feels like being a rickety buoy on the busy ocean. One second bobbing to the surface and the next crashing below the waves and taking on water. Sloshy. Everything feels sloshy.

He only feels her at first- not the hospital bed, not the scratchy sheets, Just the feeling of her cheek resting against the palm of his hand. Her gentle breath tickling his fingers in her sleep.

Jimin will always know the particular beat and cadence of Tae’s body. Would know it if the sun got snuffed out like a candle. Would know her breath anywhere because it’s the very fuel to Jimin’s soul, the very thing that sets the tempo to the heart monitor beating out a pleasant rhythm in the midafternoon hum.

Her skin is pillowy and sweet beneath Jimin’s flayed fingers, limp and cold to the touch because of the whole almost bleeding out thing. He doesn’t know it yet, but he's needed 9 units of blood in the past 24 hours. 4 right away, and 3 during the surgery where they removed the knife and stitched his arm together. And another two units just after.

Compared to his own body, Tae feels so warm.

At least Jimin can still feel his left hand. The doctors that stitched him back together must have done a bang-up job, Namjoon even more so. a lot of people can put an arm back together, a whole slew of them, but not many surgeons could stab someone carefully enough so as to not permanently injure them. There are only so many people that he would trust to stab him.

But Jimin trusts Namjoon with a whole lot more than just that.

When he opens his eyes (a task of herculean proportions) Namjoon isn’t there, it’s just Tae in one of those absurdly uncomfortable hospital chairs. She’s bent over his hospital bed in what must surely be an uncomfortable position to sleep in. Her back arched like invisible wings weigh her down. She slept like that, sprawled as close as she could get to Jimin without the nurses waking her up and telling her not to crowd him.

The smudged mascara on her cheeks flake like falling stars, little trails there were tears rendered it useless. Jimin wipes away a black droplet like he's banishing a ghost. She’s cried so much over the last 10 hours, most of her makeup gone and sporting a bit of 5 o’clock shadow too. The faint roughness that Jimin feels no more than once. Because to derive sensory pleasure from that feels…wrong.

He looks at the ceiling, wondering where the others are. He feels the edge of his body, the spot where the wound begins and the pain ends. Who knew gunshots and stab wounds could make you feel so sore? and tired too? Exhaustion pins his body to the bed like a butterfly to a corkboard.

A wire connected to his good hand tugs, But he ignores it in favor of cradling Tae's head and combing through the tangles in her hair. It's gotten so long now, just to her shoulders, but the bits feel so soft and gauzy against his fingertips. He wishes he could feel it forever. It’s much much better than the 5 o’clock shadow.

It takes a dozen passes for Tae to stir.

And then she startles awake, flinching into being. Fresh tears disrupt the mascara flecks as she beholds her soulmate and nearly tugs herself across his bed to get her hands on his face. To hold his cheeks.

To say that Tae has looked better would be accurate for jimin to say but the words would never grace Jimin’s lips. Not even close. Even with a crusty face and greasy hair- Tae looks gorgeous- so pretty that his heart pulses dangerously quickly. so quickly that jimin's suprised the nurses don't come by and check on him.

Maybe they haven’t given him enough opioids for his shoulder because for a second he feels his heartbeat ricochet through his whole body. To his fingers where he's touching her and back to his heart. Every echo and ripple Tae Tae Tae.

Tae bends over Jimin’s body. Her hands go to his face, fingers touching his smile, and thumbs pressed to his faint crow's feet and twinkling eyes. Clutching at him like he’s her lifeline (he is, a red string of fate that keeps her from drowning, always. She was stupid not to use it like an anchor).

“Pup told me.” She says, a note of finality in her voice, lower lip trembling, tears falling anew “told me you kept talking about me even when you were stabbed" she goes quiet, whispering the words like she's scared someone might be listening in.

"Pup told me everything."

Jimin’s eyes flick from her lips to her face, her body, everything. His hands are trembling, chest building with breaths until they’re heaving and the realization of just how much everything she must know hits him.

Tae knows Jimin well enough to know what a panic attack looks like- knows enough how to soothe it. Knows just to hold on and wait for it to pass. jimin's hands splay and flex, rubbing her skin once, twice, and then a third time in an effort to self-soothe.

"It's okay,"

"You mean you're not-" Jimin's heart monitor is going so wild that Tae has to tell him to calm down. Has to run her fingers up and down his scent glands on his neck, nipping at them to settle him. "You're not angry that I'm-"

That I'm a killer, that I'm a monster. That I've kept everything from you. Jimin readies himself, preparing himself for the speech he always knew he'd have to give. You don't understand, I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this- I didn't I just. I never killed people who didn't deserve it- because I know that you'd hate that.

For the first time in their lives, Tae and Jimin are sitting across from each other- without a single secret to each of their consciousness. both of them free and perilously unmoored for it.

But there are no words that Tae needs when she looks up at him and smiles. Wetness at the corner of her eyes.

Seeing Jimin in the hospital bed had not felt like Patroclus and Achilles, it hadn't even felt like Orpheus and Eurydice. There was no roaring anguish. The kind that follows when people leave you too soon. Or the bitter vindication that happens when people leave at just the right time (it’s the worst when people leave like that. Either linger or make me miss you. Stay too long or leave me early. Either way is fine. I’ll feel more human if I’ve got longing or hatred to feel).

In truth seeing Jimin in the hospital bed, wires and hooks connected to him- keeping him alive and keeping him breathing, had felt like a second chance. She's not going to let something as simple as a secret spoil it.

Tae knows she should want to know more about Jimin's job as an assassin and should want to ask more questions (if not to understand her soulmate better, than for writing material). She Should be more revolted or disturbed or upset that her literal soulmate kills people for a living, but at the moment, all she can find in herself is just to be glad that Jimin is fucking alive.

It’s funny, how much your priorities can shift.

Jimin looks like he doesn't believe her. "Tae, you can't even kill spiders."

"Would you care?" Jimin falls silent. "Would you care if it was me in your position?"

Jimin swallows hard and winces. He doesn’t have to ask for a sip of water, because Tae has already gotten it for him by the time his good hand closes over his throat. His shoulder is bound so tightly in bandages that he can hardly shift it. Can't reach up to stop himself from spilling a bit of the water down his chin. Her nails (red polished and chipped) wipe away a drop on his lips.

(There's more that you weren't able to tell her just yet; a lot about you and Yoongi and Jin. You've decided to save the bulk of how Jimin ended up in the hospital bed until after Jimin woke up. Later when you can get her on her own you'll tell her. Probably after Jimin's discharged from the hospital. But the other secrets can wait for now).

It won’t really hit her until later. When she’s in her closet looking at all of her pretty things and designer clothes. Fingers toeing along the fine black cashmere sweaters, to the maroon dresses, to the scarlet ones, stopping just before she reaches the pink. The Dior, the Versache, the McQueen. It will only be then that she'll put two and two together and realize they were all paid for with blood money. With people’s lives.

It will bother her then; it doesn’t bother her right now. It will never bother her enough to think about leaving jimin.

How do you make the choice? What to condemn a loved one for? How do you pin down your line of intolerance when it's someone you love with your whole being? Can you decide at all or is it something that your soul chooses for you? The weight of one sin for another. what you're willing to go through.

They would have died anyway. Even if Jimin hadn't killed them, they had someone out there willing enough to pay for their death and they'd have died anyway she rationalizes. We're all going to die anyway.

Maybe it’s a silver lining that Tae no longer believes in the same kind of sin and wrongness that Jimin does. Doesn’t believe in God and heaven at all. Tae has always believed in soulmates more and believed in Jimin the most. More than any god or afterlife.

“I should be angry, anyone else probably would be but-” Tae turns her cheek into Jimin’s fingers, pressing her lips to his trigger finger. Eyes shining when she looks at him. “I’ve wasted too much of my life being angry at you, wasted too much of it feeling anything but love for you- Jimin- if you died, I-”

Jimin cradles Tae's cheek. “I’m sorry for Namjoon’s rut- for what I said. Didn’t mean it. Never mean it if I'm mean-” Jimin’s finger rubs across Tae’s lips, the wide part of his palm splayed across her jaw, and so much is said in that little touch. But they look at each other and laugh. "Not like Noodle."

It shocks a laugh out of Tae and she presses her temple to Jimin's jaw, feels his smile when the joint moves. She realizes that Jimin's still a little high. Probably too doped up on pain medicine to have this conversation but oh well.

“I never thought it would take you getting stabbed for me to realize it,” her lip trembles, “I don’t want to waste another second being angry with you.”

“I don’t want to waste another second with you either. Won't even sleep,” his eyelashes flutter, struggling to stay awake.

Tae pulls herself more firmly on top of the bed and Jimin shifts a little, wakes a little more when she slings a leg carefully over his hips. Being gentle, still conscious of his physical state. He uses his good arm to pull her up and up until She’s splayed across his lap.

Kissing Tae never loses its edge, it always feels like their first kiss, sweet and with that knotted bundle of anticipation. Jimin sits up into the kiss, sits up until his shoulder protests and he hisses into the kiss. "Don't strain yourself minnie-"

"Don't care just-" he pulls her hips snugly. After that words are sparse as they kiss, again and again, lips working together. Sloppy messy love kisses. Every breath tastes like love, every second of it. She giggles pulling apart for a second to get her breath, the heartbeat monitors in the corner going wild. Breath that washes over Jimin like a gust of spring air, cinnamon flower sweat, and heady. Tae’s kisses are better than a first sip of coffee or a breath of fresh air. (They’re better than living, just a little bit).

“If I was any less sore, I’d ask you to bite me right now.”

Tae grins, and it’s a special secret smile. “You said something like that to Pup too."

“I’m so lucky I get to be yours- don't want to waste the luck-" Tae shakes her head stubbornly pulling back.

"I don’t think that you should say you’re lucky. I’m so lucky that this person loved me, or I’m so lucky that I got to love them. Because when it comes down to it, love and luck are not the same thing. Love is not a single event, like winning the lottery, or finding a 100-dollar bill. Love is a choice and you have to choose it a thousand times. Every day you choose it. Luck is such a cop-out. It’s been really nice.”

“God, I hope I’m more than just nice.”

Tae smiles, “Shut up” She goes a little pale. “Actually don’t shut up with me like- ever. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.” She plays with Jimin’s hands, “Is that when either of us- whoever- goes first-“ Jimin’s grip goes knuckle tight on her waist, he's coming out of it, a little more lucid with every breath. Waking up more.

“When one of us dies- I don’t want to question if I ever loved you enough, I don't want to rely on just luck. I don’t want to think about the days that I could have gone for coffee with you or could have kissed you longer. I don’t want to think that I didn’t get exactly what I wanted and you didn’t get exactly what you wanted too.

"I want to give you one extra kiss every time so that you get twice as much as you would have gotten otherwise. I just want to think that it was nice, that every moment of it was nice- even when we fought, I want to look back on it and think ‘even the sad parts were nice and I got more than I thought I would.' No luck involved.”

She grins down at him, that same youthful grin she’s had her whole life, Jimin thinks of it sometimes- how many times she’s smiled this way and he hasn’t seen. How many more he will see.

“Also, y/n says that you’re allowed to mate me, but not marry me. She says my ring finger belongs to her.”

Jimin slides up the bed, flipping her over, supporting himself with his good hand, sending her sprawling and giggling. His growl is half hearted but promising. Tae laces her hand in his greasy blonde hair and it stays there.

It stays there.

~-~

The rest of Jimin’s hospital stay goes a bit like this:

There is a pair of suits outside the window, dark and imposing. plain clothes police officers watching and waiting like vultures. They’ve already taken statements from the pack but demand to hear from Park Jimin himself.

Lies from the source always taste the sweetest.

There is a story ironed out and penned in stolen moments, you curled up in one packmate's lap and transferred to another, "the pup" Jin had said, the youngest, was not taking her alpha's stabbing well. "She just needs a bit of soothing, sorry." The suits are charmed enough by two cuddling omega's that they don't notice your mouth pressed to their ears, like a game of cuddly murderous telephone.

The story gets ironed out easily, you’d all gone out for pizza, had come home to find Jimin bleeding in your kitchen.

“It’s pretty normal for Jimin to be reckless with his health. I’m not surprised he tried to come home and see if I could stitch him up himself. I'm a doctor at his hospital- Dr. Kim, pack alpha and head of neurosurgery. The knife- you should know I touched it on accident he wanted to remove it himself and I just had to stop him- I’m sorry- I should have known better I was just- so shaken.” Namjoon is a passable liar at best.

Jungkook has folded himself under your mate’s arm, and Jin’s too. He’s still vaguely shaking, bunny eyes wider than usual. In a little bit, Namjoon will drag him over to an empty exam room for a quick check-up. Just to make sure he isn't about to seize on the floor. Yoongi will go with him, Will tell him the truth about all of this then.

But what, with his comment earlier, you wouldn't be surprised if Jungkook has already figured it out on his own.

Jimin doesn’t even need to be coached into remembering it. The police don’t even think of not letting the pack see him, after seeing Tae’s teary eyes. A pretty girl is the best distraction, and the pack has two pretty girls that smell sour and need to tend to their alpha before the police get a chance too.

They’re impatient as they watch you and Tae fold yourself over Jimin’s barely aware body, more preoccupied with looking at your asses than they don’t see your lips moving against Jimin’s ear, mistaking your shaking for the racking sobs. And your quiet words for sweet nothings.

Hobi had barely leashed a growl, and resisted the urge to step in front of you and block you both from their sight.

The story is so easy and simple- a true case of Ockham’s razor. The simplest story with the least details is the most likely to be believed. the story Jimin tells the police goes like this;

Earlier yesterday, a crazy fan of the idol group he guards that must have followed him from his schedule with intent to learn his schedule and get closer to them. Her description is so ordinary that they’ll never find her because she doesn’t exist. Any person found will easily be made inculpable; either by alibi or honesty. Not that the law cares much about honesty, nor that any of you care about possibly implicating a stranger.

Love always did make people go to extremes, it's easily believable.

Nothing else matters. Besides keeping everyone safe. You're united against this.

Once they're gone, other promises get made:

“I want you to quit, this is too dangerous, if something like this happens to you again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”

“We need to make sure we travel in pairs until we figure out what’s going on, why they're targeting Jimin and Jin.”

“I can ask some of my contacts-“

“You’ll do no such thing Yoongi.”

“Do you think we should be like- Armed? Just in case?”

“I don’t think more guns will solve anything but…Maybe.”

In a stolen moment, Namjoon corners you outside Jimin's hospital bedroom, he's holding three bags of takeout, not that Jimin will really be able to eat much of it. The opioids keep down his appetite. That doesn't meant the pack won't try to fuss. As it is, Jimin hasn't been interested in anything but kissing Tae and holding her hand. Pouting whenever the nurses make tae leave.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," Namjoon has always found apologies easy and has never had so much of an ego that it would get in the way of any of it.

"It's alright, between you and me, I think it was kind of justified." You'd probably yell at all of them if they convinced you to stab Yoongi or tae or any of them.

"No more secrets, okay? Promise me this is the last one." It's easy to promise Namjoon that, so easy. To let him scent you, rubbing his coffee liquor scent all over your shoulder.

(But it's not about the promises that you make, it's about the ones that you break.)

You sit out in the hallway the following morning, still in the same clothes and starting to feel a little bit filthy because of it. None of you have gone home yet. Hobi sits next to you and Jungkook's on the other side.

They’re just checking Jimin’s stitches again, and his hospital room just got a bit crowded. The prospect of checkout is maybe a day away. Tonight is the last you'll have to spend at the hospital.

It was also time to talk over Jimin’s opioid regimen, and the doctor had been nearly delighted when Namjoon had stepped up and taken the lead, reassuring the doctor under no uncertain terms that Namjoon would manage them. You can forgive him for thinking a little too much with his hindbrain. If Namjoon leaned any more into his instincts you'd be worried he was close to going into a rut again.

“Is this what it’s like when I’m in the hospital?” Jungkook asks, sucking on some skittles. It's more sugar than he should be allowed to have especially during a high-stress situation. But Jungkook’s taking the panic to get a little bit of freedom. You cast a glance at Tae, at Yoongi and Jin, standing by the door looking like he’s about ready to twitch out of his skin with the effort it's taking him to stand outside.

Jin had apologized- him and Namjoon both, and Jimin had accepted it instantly. "If I trust anyone to shoot and stab me- it's you two so-"

"But-" they'd argued, but eventually Jimin had turned a little scary, a little threatening. showing a hint maybe- of a persona they're all unused to but you're not. Jimin can be firm when he needs to be. A quick retort of-

"Forcing me to comfort you over something I'm not upset about is not the way to make me forgive you." Shut them up for good (or at least for now).

“Yeah, pretty much.” You hold out your hand for some skittles and he gives you a few. Hobi grimaces and reaches over to take the orange ones out of your palm. He knows you don’t like those. He replaces them with a few green ones.

"It’s fucking boring. I should get you guys like- a DS or something for Christmas.”

“Don’t tell Minnie or he’ll blow all his money on-“ You cringe at your words and Hobi flinches. Jungkook just chews on his candies, they smack against his teeth with a hard clinking sound.

There is still some of Jimin's blood under Hobi's fingernails. You see it when he reaches over to take your Skittles.

The next time Hobi moves to take your Skittles, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "Come on."

You lead Hoseok into the women's bathroom, underneath the curious eye of the nurses, all the stalls are empty so you pull him over to the counter.

“You’ve got some- stuff- under your nails- let me.” You rip a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them. You clean Hobi’s hands diligently and he lets you.

He stays quiet, Hobi's been quiet for the last day or so. He hasn't done more than whisper a few quiet words to Jimin and stay close. He didn't say anything during your secret confession yesterday. Didn't ask a single question and the silence bleeds now as you scrub the clean-smelling soap against his skin. Your anxiety builds, and you scrub a little harder. His fingers remain limp in your touch.

“Say something- say anything okay? I need to know that you’re not-” not angry with me. That you don't hate me- that you still love-.

Hobi pulls you against his shoulder in a single clean movement. His wet hands hit your stomach when he grabs your hips. Your nose brushing his throat, his nose skimming your hairline.

“I’m trying not to take too much energy from Jimin- trying not to- be a mess- because he's the only one who deserves the packs attention. I'm not even sure if I am a mess about it. Sure that sucked but-" he sighs, "you and I are kinda like- uniquely able to handle things like this cuz of-" he doesn't need to finish his sentence. Hoseok's lips brush your ear, lips touching your skin, and- he pulls back, smiling softly. It's a tired smile but there it is- soft and special and just for you.

“You’re taking things, remarkably well considering the last time we…”

“The last time we had to deal with something like this?”

You hum, scrubbing a paper towel hard over the ends of Hobi's hands. The white paper goes orange-red with dried blood. "Give it time. There’s still a few weeks for me to go crazy this time.”

But this time, you have a feeling that it will be different. Although Hobi was there the last time- and played an instrumental role in making sure you didn't literally fall apart. It's different now. Right now, your hands tangle on the counter, holding on, even though you try to clean his hands of blood. Holding on is more important, neither of you tries and pull away. You don't have the energy for shyness.

What's more intimate? Sex or murder?

He huffs a small frustrated sound and stoops to rest his forehead against your shoulder, leaning almost all of his weight on you. You take it.

“Maybe this time I’ll take a crack at going crazy.” You laugh, stopping your brushing and just settling for holding him. Hips resting against the counter. The two of you rest, just for a moment.

Your nose against the side of his face where his undercut presses to your skin, spiky. "Still have that train ticket?" Hobi humms, taking a deep greedy breath of your scent to steady himself.

You're not expecting him to pull back and kiss you, but his lips are dry but warm, faintly chapped but yours are too. Pressing soft but demanding against yours. Hobi kisses you just as sweetly as last time and you grip the front of his jacket.

No sooner has he heaved you up on the counter, fingers hooking under your thighs to kiss you stronger- than is the door clanging open and a nurse comes barreling in.

"Ugh- uhm." She's a little stunned, but you're already hopping down, faces flushed and apologizing for the inconvenience.

You don’t throw the bloody paper towels in the garbage, but the toilet, flushing them once, then twice, to make sure that they’re down. Mumbling one last apology before you exit the bathroom together.

Hobi doesn't let go of your hand. You wonder if this is what loving him is going to be like; making out in places you shouldn't, special secret stolen glances when you keep holding hands even around the pack and keep stealing kisses.

You wonder if the kissing will stretch to the cars- to the late night drives, if he'll hold your hand like this around every hairpin turn. If Hobi's going to make you a make out playlist later, full of songs that make him think of you, songs that match the cadence and pitch of your heart. You wonder if loving him will be like this, stolen innocence, like finding sea glass on the beach. There and pretty for the taking if you only look for it.

Your heart feels all warm and tight with it, swaddled. Protected as Hobi tugs you back into Jimin's hospital room. You can't wait to find out.

The next few hours look like this; Namjoon sitting on the foot of the bed his hand on Jimin’s knee, feasting on hospital food. Jungkook giggles, and nearly throws himself across Jimin’s lap so that the alpha can put his hands through his hair. Looks like more takeout, living off of it because no one wants hospital food and you can't go home and cook. You refuse to leave right now.

It looks like Tae smiling for the first time In what feels like years but has logically been only a few hours. Rubbing a hand across her jaw and wincing when she feels the stubble.

Her wince quiets the sounds of the pack happy. And you look up from your plate.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, always stupidly attuned to her and her needs, always watching and waiting.

“I need to freaking shave and I just- I haven’t had the chance to.” Tae lets out a tired sigh, the kind of deep frustration that comes with things that you have no choice but to do.

You take her hand from her chair and tug her up. Because this- this source of angst can be fixed.

“Here- come on,” A shaving razor gets found for her, Namjoon goes to the surgical ward to get the right kind. Sharp and medical and disposable along with a tiny tube of shaving gel. You drag her chair into the bathroom and make her sit while you do it. Lathering up her cheeks and tipping her head back. The whole pack a cacophony in the other room. The shock of skittles and other candies falling onto the floor. Muted words then soft laughter.

You drag the shaving razor up her chin, over her chubby cheeks. Your gentle touch, the soft scrapping of her hair against the blade a gentle accompaniment to the sounds of the pack passing the time until Jimin wants to go to sleep. Jungkook's phone plays a tictok loud, "Bunny- headphones, Minnie's trying to rest" Yoongi reminds him.

Jimin is struggling not to fall asleep, shifting to one side of the hospital bed just to get a better vantage point to look into the bathroom at Tae. Jimin cranes his neck.

Tae's face twitches, and underneath the white froth you see her reddening cheeks. “Stop looking at me.”

Jimin grins from the hospital bed, “Can’t help it, love you.”

“Love you too Minnie” She choruses back, and the pack joins her.

that night, namjoon and yoongi push three hospital cots togeather around jimin's bed and the pack piles in, sweet bodies and kissed cheaks, whiped down with sanitary towels, you end up tucked between tae and hobi, your cheek pressed to her back.

the following morning it becomes impossible to ignore both how purely filthy the 8 of you are and the fact that Jimin's doctors won't let him check out until tomorrow (and even then he'll have days of bedrest and won't be able to use his arm until he gets his stitches out.) You haven't been home in two days, no one can remember if you even locked the front door with how crazy leaving was.

It’s hard to convince Tae to go with you and leave Jimin's side. But she's less resistant when Yoongi reminds her that Jimin needs new clothes to go home in since all of his bloodstained clothing was discarded as medical waste.

“Honestly we should get like- to go bags full of a change of clothes for all of us when like, JK has his seizures,” Maybe it’s just because you’ve done overnights twice in the last week at the hospital- but the idea doesn’t seem like a bad one.

Jin drives you, Hobi, and Tae home in silence; no one tells Tae any of the other secrets yet. Tired as she is, almost falling asleep in the car. Waking with a start when you turn onto your street.

It's a little shocking. When you get home to a cold and quiet house. Jimin's blood has dried up into dark waxy puddles, on the kitchen table and the floor. There are fingerprints from someone, rusty and red on the doorframe. It's stark to see the evidence. To see a bit of it on the butcher block countertop all the terror and the color leached out of it in the grey afternoon light.

Tae is so stumbly that Hobi has to grab her twice just to keep her from walking into walls when he gets her inside. Noodles immediately yowl has you feeling terribly guilty, he circles your and Hobi's ankles. But you push at Hoseok's hands when he stoops to pick him up.

"Take Tae upstairs and shower with her, will you? I'll be up in a second, just gonna feed him and get some stuff together." She's blinking and looking at the bloodstains, eyes already looking glassy with fresh tears.

You need a second, a second in quiet, a second alone just to steady yourself. Jin comes in, dragging in a mountain of mail from your box, "I've got them, come on pups, grooming time."

Jin pecks a kiss along your forehead, "Come up the second you finish?"

You nod, "Just want to get some food first too- hungry."

Jin nods and makes to follow Hobi and Tae but pauses on the stairs. he looks like he wants to say something to you. Eyes full of something unreadable and warm. Unspoken words hover.

If he had to choose anyone, I'm glad he chose you.

But before he can get it out Tae calls from upstairs. "Jinnie? Can you grab one of my comfy sets from the closet down there before you come up?"

You stand, solemn in the kitchen, listening to the sound of them on the creaky stairs, the sound of their quiet voices. The creek of the house as they walk around upstairs.

"Here you go baby," you say, giving Noodles an extra spoonful of food. You know you left enough for him in his bowl and that he didn't suffer too badly. But still, his purring chirping is music to your ears. You pet over his back, his fluffy tail.

He's Still chubby, still good. You aren't too bad of a pet owner then.

There's the gun still there, sitting just to the left of Jimin's blood splatter on the seat of one of the dining room chairs. You're at eye level with it from where you crouch down to pet Noodle. It's the same one that you pulled out from under the bed when you found out he'd been shot. You should probably take it with you when you go back to the hospital, just to be sure.

"You got any secrets for me nu? Are you the long-lost prince of some cat kingdom?" Noodle chops down in response.

You go to the hallway closet to get a duffel bag, where the pack stores their larger bags and luggage.

"Hey!" Hobi calls from upstairs, muffled through the roar of the shower. There isn't much other noise in the house. The birds outside aren't chirping, probably because you haven't been home enough to fill their birdfeeder.

Probably.

"Yeah!?" You call back up, upending the duffel bag and sending a bit of loose change, some quarters and pennies scattering onto the floor. you stoop down to pick up a few of them, tossing them back into the closet with a metallic clang (to be dealt with later.)

“Can you grab Tae's phone charger? It should be by her computer.”

"Got it!" Tae's library room is much the same as it was when you left it, her computer is closed. The walls are green, the window dusty. You find it easily, the cord long and white, tangling in your hands.

You're not sure why your hair raises on the back of your neck.

Noodle stops his chomping.

The push of cold air startles you- the change of pressure in the house like a door being opened- the front door. The windows in the library room are leaky. You're used to being in here and feeling it, used to feeling that same draft every time one of your pack mates comes home.

You freeze where you stand.

The metallic jingle of the doorknob is so much softer than usual. You could almost convince yourself that you don't hear it, that you've made it up.

And then you hear it- Noodle's low hiss.

Call it a habit or a trained behavior but you still make your footsteps quiet everywhere you go. A thing learned from your years with Geumjae when you needed to be quiet to be safe and needed to make yourself as unobtrusive as possible to avoid pain. A vestigial survival instinct.

It serves you well now because no one in the house hears as you slide from Tae’s library through the pantry area, you don’t call out Tae’s name again, or Hobi’s. You don’t know exactly why you don’t.

Your house is an old house and you know every inch of it. You know this house that Yoongi’s built for you from the top of the eves to the shutters, from the windows up top to the ground floor and dusty half-finished basement. You know every creaky floorboard and which steps are the ones you skip when someone’s sleeping upstairs because it always sounds so high-pitched and it wakes Jimin up, light sleeper that he is.

You hear the subtle creek of the floorboards now, the small slide of heavy boots across the wide floorboards. A creak. Someone is about to ascend the stairs, up to where you can still hear Hobi and Tae talking softly. The shower off, they're probably just getting dressed.

Softly, you hear the sound of a heavy boot hitting something metallic, one of the pennies you dropped earlier and missed.

Jin might still be in the other room, that's what you tell yourself. You're just being paranoid. stupid paranoia you almost want to laugh. you're just jumpy from the last few days- that's all. Funny of you, to make it up.

The danger is all in your head.

Only it's not,

Because the first thing you see when you peek around the corner is the pitch-dark barrel of an extended gun.

~-~

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~-~

Notes:

There are some parts in this chapter, some facts about yoongi's family that haven't been touched on since the very begining chapters or jimin's secret chapters and i repeated them just so that people get a bit of a refresher but some of it feels a little monotonous to write! i hope it's not too hard to get through.

in an ideal world i would have given myself an additional week to edit this chapter, it's not the most edited and because of that i feel like it got repetitive or arduous in places.

i'm also realizing that this is like, 9th longest bts fanfic in existence. look it up on ao3 if you don't believe me. i think giving people a refresher of the begining is fair. In terms of the harry potter series (it really is a shame that no one knows who wrote it) we're just into the 6th book in terms of word count if you need that for context.

on that same vein. moonbyuls brief rant that is implied to be transphobic and sorta is- is not a reflection of my views she's just...you know...the villain?

this chapter also literally went from 8k to 14k during editing what the fuck. i stayed up till 2 am to get this done two nights in a row. i have this little nagging voice in my head that says its stupid to care about something like this but i can't help it- i love this story so much. even if this isn't the best chapter.

when the m/c has her freak out in the room where she almost passes out- that is called adrenal fatigue and it's soemthing that i struggle with as someone with ptsd. you know the feeling when you go on a rollercoaster when all of your adrenaline unloads it's self all at once? if i go through that my body goes a little haywire like- dizziness, exhaustion, dysregulation, memory fog, all of it. i still like rollercoasters though so as long i like rest and drink alot of water it doesn't affect me too much.

it's really important that you notice that no one says moonbyuls name during the moment when they're talking about their secrets between namjoon, jin, hobi, yoongi, and the m/c. i'm not telling you why just PAY ATTENTION.

Every time i think about the proverb "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth." i think of the m/c and how thats her storyline with the family like- she really was like "either you love me or i'll kill all of you" and i think thats cute <3

In terms of why the last don and Beta killed Yoongi's parents- i think it's because yoongi's mother found out that she was pregnant with another beta and the don and beta didn't want to deal with such a divided power. They already had yoongi under their thumb and another possible successor would have over complicated things. Yoongi would have had a little sister, i don't know if he'll ever know thats why his parents where killed- he was between the ages of 16 and 18 when they died.

although this chapter was the least edited in terms of the most recent chapters- i will also say that there are two moments in this chapter- where i 'fuck up' and write things a certian way but heres the thing- they're not fuck ups and they're actually hints so! lets see if anyone notices!!

i'm gonna be honest with you guys the part where it goes "it stays there" left me fucking winded i can't even think about it too hard or else i get misty eyed.

i am catheterizing a lot of emotions writing this i am sorry it took so long to write, there is a reason why this update took a month and thats cuz yeah- my grandmother is dying. She's got cancer and She's 91 so they're not treating it. death is gonna be a /theme/ for me over the next couple of chapters, don't be surprised if I go off on a tangent or if it takes me a second between updates.

i wish i could write the m/c just a little dumber you know?

i wrote this series with the intent to write about people in realistic relationships- showing the moments they make mistakes, the moments they react too much or not enough, the way that trauma affects us all and how we handle it and love. it feels very full circle to have this chapter come out like- this is what bily is about you know? even though they'res alot of dialouge in it.

oh~ shits about to go down~

Mini-Playlist

Dominic fike- acai bowl (kinda hobi and the m/c's song for this chapter, they're going through it)

Hozier- Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) (this is literally bily's unoffical theme song at this point)

JID, Kenny Mason - Dance now (the beginning when moonbyul setting the industrial park on fire)

Frank sinatra- thats life (the song i picture playing at the end when tae and jimin are talking out their issues).

[ze-ppe-li]

...🇪​🇳​🇬​🇱​🇮​🇸​🇭​ 🇮​🇸​🇳​·🇹​ 🇲​🇾​ 🇫​🇮​🇷​🇸​🇹​ 🇱​🇦​🇳​🇬​🇺​🇦​🇬​🇪​ 🇦​🇳​🇾​🇼​🇦​🇾​

Gangbang, G!P Blackpink, sub! reader fifth member! reader, blowjob (jisoo and rosé), cunnilingus (r), brief daddy kink, anal sex, deepthroating, triple penetration, ass to mouth, bukkake, dp in one hole.

The five women gathered together after a triumphant performance, celebrating their victory against the screaming crowd. Their energy was high, fueled by the roars of approval from thousands of devoted fans. As they exited the stadium doors, a buzz still lingered within the air, a testament to their magnetic stage presence.

Once inside the hotel room, the girls finally had some privacy away from the prying eyes of adoring fans. Rosé quickly mixed them all drinks before flopping onto one of the plush sofas. "This feels like such a rare moment," she sighed dreamily.

"Indeed it does." Jisoo agreed. "But I must say, we could use something stronger than these drinks if tonight's going to end like our last gathering!" Her flirtatious tone caused everyone else to laugh and take off their clothes. 

It wasn't long until they were all standing naked except for the glittery accessories they hadn't taken off yet. Rosé took a seat, crossing her legs provocatively. "Let me introduce you all" she smiled, grabbing each girl's hand gently. 

"This is my sweet little Jennie, her dick will surely make you beg for mercy"

Jennie stepped forward, flashing her figure. She approached Lisa slowly, admiring her curvaceous beauty, taking her time to explore every inch of Lisa's delicious body.

Meanwhile, you couldn't help but feel aroused watching them both, especially when Lisa began unzipping Jennie's pants, exposing her throbbing cock. It seemed almost surreal seeing these two powerful females getting intimate with each other. Furthermore, you were the only member with a vagina.

As you turned towards Jisoo, who was already undressed, ready to ravage you with her expert touch, you noticed Rosé kneeling down beside you, her hands moving seductively across your thighs.

She whispered into your ear, "Remember, I am here for you too... don't forget about me..."

Her words sent shivers down your spine, making you want her just as badly as the rest.

Without further delay, Jisoo pushed you onto the bed, climbing on top of you. Her soft lips met yours passionately, sending waves of desire coursing through your veins. 

Your mind raced with anticipation, wondering which position would bring out the most pleasure. Your unnie eagerly awaited her turn, her breath coming in short bursts. With a devious grin, she pulled you closer, allowing her fingers to tease your sensitive skin.

As you felt the warmth of her lips brushing against yours, your heart raced faster. This was unlike anything you ever experienced, the thrill of having four beautiful women surround you, each craving their share of passionate embrace.

Without warning, Jennie grasped your head firmly, guiding you towards her hardened member. You couldn't resist its allure, leaning forward to taste her. Her moans filled the room as you caressed her soft skin, feeling her excitement grow with each passing second. 

At that moment, Lisa, who was masturbating, approached both of you and saw you; you swallowing Jennie's cock and Jennie. She also needed to taste your throat at the same time as Jennie. Seeing you there, choking a little, she was excited by the idea that she would provoke the same reflex in you, just as Jennie was doing.

At first she wanted to fuck your face, then slowly withdraw her cock while you choke with Jennie's one, now it became clear to her that she didn't need to do any of this, because you did that perfectly yourself. So you were completely alone in front of four hot women who are giving you what you can't get enough. And since all four are equally desirable, your options for getting pleasure have multiplied.

Now with both cocks in your mouth, you were able to go up and down without much problem, licking, sucking, kissing and licking again, in no particular order, tasting and playing with different flavors. You had always loved giving blowjobs but now it's even better, the sense of satisfaction never been so complete. Jennie enjoyed it too, as she was pushing her cum in your mouth, so you could swallow it and enjoy the rich taste. On the other hand, with Lisa, the more you sucked, the more she got excited. Also, you never imagined it could be such an awesome feeling being completely submissive, knowing you were only useful for fulfilling sexual desires.

While your tongue was quickly working on your unnies' dicks, two other tongues were on you, one on your clit and the other inside you sweet hole; Jisoo and Rosé were clearly enjoying you as much as you liked them, you felt incredibly sexy with them tonguing at you. While the blonde was sucking on your clit, the oldest was exploring your walls with her tongue, making sure she got every inch of you. They went on like this for a while until Jennie lost control and grabbed your head, holding it tightly, keeping you still while she unleashed her orgasm. The sweetest taste of cum flooded your mouth and you tried to catch as much as you could but some escaped from your open mouth.

Lisa, feeling the cum of her unnie mixing with her meat and your throat's juice, could no longer hold back and moaned with pure joy. At that moment, your throat was invaded by that white liquid again and your eyes closed with ecstasy as you were pleasured with the thick cream of both girls, forcing you to drink the load of them

Now your tongue and her shafts made contact, both retreating from your mouth with an audible "pop!" After licking off their cum, you moaned sluttily, since the activity had not ended there; Rosé and Jisoo were between your legs, eating you out. Their warm breath on your crotch made your knees tremble and your heart race, causing Lisa to make another pass with her tongue and eat you some more, so now all three tongues were lapping away at your snatch, creating an ocean of sensations inside you.

Feeling Lisa's finger slide inside you, it was then you realized how you had neglected your own pleasure all the time. In fact, Lisa showed you what a girl's tongue feels like inside you , how much it would excite you when another woman licked it, while another slides her finger in you. That feeling of wetness and relaxation while she plays with your walls made you moan loudly, unable to contain yourself. She inserted her middle finger deeper and twirled it around, applying gentle pressure to your G-spot, while the tip of Jisoo's index finger continued to stimulate your clit, spreading you wider and opening you up.

Suddenly Rosé and Jisoo were pulled away, leaving only Lisa's finger buried deep in you. At first she withdrew it, licking the fluid oozing out, making you want more. But Lisa quickly brought it back and slid it all the way in, making you squirm and whine. Your moans were loud, filling the room, drawing everyone's attention towards you.

With that last stroke, Lisa stopped, removed her fingers, covered them with your juices, then placed them on your lips and pushed them in, cleaning herself off. This action, followed by Jennie's breath on your neck, told you they were close, and you knew that soon you would feel their big cocks inside you.

In an instant, you found yourself with Rosé behind you, while Jennie stood in front of you. Your body quivered as you felt Rosé's cold, lubed fingers tracing circles along your back entrance, causing waves of delightful sensations to course through your veins.

In response, you reached out and cupped Jennie's breasts tenderly, letting your fingertips glide across the smooth texture of her nipples. She let out a sharp intake of breath, unable to hide her arousal any longer. Desire danced in her eyes as she stuck her head out passing your shoulder, meeting Rosé's expectant gaze. Both of them shared a silent understanding; this night was meant to break boundaries, to push limits beyond what they thought possible.

Before either of them could react, Lisa took hold of the situation, slinking gracefully to her side. With calculated movements, she eased her way between Jennie and Rosé, placing a kiss on each of their lips simultaneously.

She stood behind you, next to Rosé, both looked at each other and smiled at each other triumphantly, since they shared the same purpose; to totally gape your little hole.

Meanwhile, Jisoo was stroking herself at your side, her member was dangerously close to your face.

She chuckled and looked down at you "Be a good girl and take my cock"

You allowed Jisoo to push her hard and deep into your mouth. With each thrust of Jisoo's cock, her entire shaft slid down your throat. When it finally hit the back of your mouth, the tip met the back of your throat. As you kept pumping Jisoo's cock in and out of your mouth, Jennie entered your pussy, slamming her hips into you. You turned your head, watching Rosé and Lisa continue to pound your ass with their full cocks. You felt incredible stretched out by two cocks inside your butt at once.

The sensations of your three holes being pounded by these powerful cocks had been building for days. Each thrust sent jolts of pain and bliss to your insides, making you want them to go harder, faster. While both Lisa and Rosé's cocks poked in and out of your anus, Jennie took her time slowly entering your pussy, just enough for your muscles to relax, giving her better access. She started pulling out almost all the way, stopping just short of where you had been fucked before.

This motion put added pressure onto your swollen clit. Every time Jennie withdrew, the throbbing sensation returned and became even stronger, but just as fast as she penetrated you, she retreated again. It was driving you crazy, wanting Jennie to push deeper and deeper. It didn't help that Jisoo's massive dick rubbed against your throat each time it was forced into your mouth. Her deep breathing, mixed with her heavy breathing, drove you crazy as you struggled not to gag on her hard shaft.

After spending too long under the combined stimulation, your orgasm started to build, swelling until it exploded inside you. You couldn't stop it; you let out a scream of release. Your walls squeezed Jennie's dick, making her thrust harder and deeper into you.

Finally, she gave one final shove and came inside you. You could feel every drop running out of you. When you finally calmed down, she stepped back, freeing you from the stimulation. But still, you had two cocks inside your gaping hole, which made you feel even hornier than before. Lisa leaned over and you turned your head back, offering you her warm tongue, which you eagerly sucked, flicking it against your roof of your mouth as you tasted her essence.

Finally, Rosé stopped thrusting into you, crying out her orgasm as she filled you up with cum. Lisa's strokes slowed as well. After a minute or so, she let the spunk fill you too, Slowly, she retracted her hard cock from your asshole, releasing her from its warmth and delicious tightness. Cum leaked out of your hole and pooled around your puckered asshole, creating a sticky mess.

Rosé stood next to you, abandoning your gaped hole. Her wet, leaking penis was now in front of you, it was getting harder and bigger by the second. A shiver went down your spine as you realized how much of a challenge Rosé was about to pose.

With an eager grin, you wrapped your hand around Rosé's engorged member and pulled it towards your mouth. Before you knew it, you were sucking and licking Rosé's fat, sensitive dick. The taste was salty and slightly bitter, it had become more pleasurable after several minutes. Rosé moaned louder, reaching for your head, holding you down as she thrusted into your mouth.

"You look so good sucking daddy's cock"

You turned to see who had said that and it was Jisoo, who, although you had not noticed it at that moment, was already behind you pounding your loosened ass.

Jennie and Lisa were masturbating, seeing how Rosé and Jisoo used you and desecrate you in those ways. Their hardened members were pointing straight at you, and that only meant one thing; absolutely your entire body would be marked with their sperm.

While you continued deepthroating Rosé and your unnie continued to fuck your ass, Jennie and Lisa approached your tits, squeezing them roughly. They tore at your nipples, biting and pulling them while Rosé fucked your throat.

It was vital that you came again, but despite your best efforts, the intense pleasure simply wouldn't fade away. The four girls were already about to came when you managed to come a third time. Now it was all a race to see who would be the first to take a load from you. Rosé knew what she was doing, grinding her cock into your mouth like a bull ramming a matador, trying to force her seed down your throat. Jisoo followed suit, thrusting forcefully into your sore ass, bringing herself to orgasm. Then Jennie and Lisa, desperately pumping their softening cocks.

As the splatters of Rosé's seed landed down your throat, Jisoo pulled her cock out of your gaped anus, pointing all its essence at your back and ass crack. JenLisa came right on your face, pushing all their sperm in your body. Their hot cum dripped down your tits, staining them white.

As they looked down at you covered in all this filth, Jennie gave you a sweet kiss on your lips, then Lisa gave you another one. Out of nowhere, the four girls were hugging you, they didn't care that your whole body was full of their cum, both inside and out.

Your group spent the rest of the night laughing and telling dirty jokes. Everyone was having fun. And although you all promised to keep things discreet, you could already tell that you had formed something deeper than friends, deeper than bandmates, you all loved each other deeply.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: those vacation blues

[part two of karma is my boyfriend's dad]

pairing: boyfriend's dad!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit 18+ MDNI

word count: 2k

summary:

It's the last day of vacation and Joel intends to make it count.

dear reader:

back by popular demand, boyfriend's dad!joel. inspired by this anon. banners below by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - boyfriend’s dad, age difference (21F and 56M), power imbalance dynamics, infidelity, asshole boyfriend, dirty talk, praise, pet names, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, shower sex, joel miller having feelings. let me know if there are any that i've missed!

Joel has been dreading the last night of this vacation. He’s been sneaking around with you the last two days, fucking you at every opportunity and in every conceivable way. Sean continues to make the rare appearance before disappearing off to the bars and clubs to party, leaving Joel plenty of time to spend with you before the vacation bubble bursts and you return home and inevitably walk out of his life.

He’s supposed to be packing and getting an early night’s sleep since the flight back to Texas is another 4 am wake-up call, but all he can think about is you. He thinks about the squeeze of your thighs around his hips, the warmth of your pussy or mouth wrapped around his cock, the sweet way your voice sounds panting, moaning, or crying out his name. He’s shamefully hard as he tries to focus on folding his clothes and fitting everything back into his carry on bag with the addition of some souvenir cups he’s collected going to restaurants with you.

After adjusting himself in his shorts for a third time, he can’t take it anymore. He has to taste you, has to feel you one more time.

Joel grabs the extra key to your room he had made and crosses the hall, knocking on your door. If Sean answers, he figures he can spin some lie about just wanting to make sure you’re both packed. But if you answer, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

After a moment of no response to his knock, he lets himself in with the key. He can hear the shower running from the bathroom and the sound of your voice singing a song out of tune.

“I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar! Oh!”

Joel smiles, stripping himself of his shirt and shorts and quietly entering the bathroom.

“I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you!”

He wonders if there’s a reason you’re singing that specific song. Is that how you feel about him?

A man can only hope.

Joel slides the curtain aside and your head whips toward him, eyes wide with surprise that morphs quickly into happiness, your lips stretching into a matching grin.

“Well, hello,” you say, stepping back to give him room to join you. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmurs, sliding his hands over your wet body, mapping the now familiar curves until he reaches your ass, his fingers digging into your cheeks and pulling you close. He flexes his hips, his hard cock dragging over the soft skin of your tummy.

You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around him, pumping him slowly. Joel tilts his head to capture your lips with his in kiss that makes his blood run hot and his pulse beat frantically. A traitorous part his mind tells him that this is it, this is the last moment he’ll get with you.

He better make it count.

He pulls back, reaching up for the detachable shower head he’s grateful the resort has in all of its bathrooms. “Turn around, sweetheart.”

As you turn, Joel adjusts the settings on the shower head to the massage function, a steady jet of water hitting the opposite wall. Your back is pressed to his chest and you lean your head back on his shoulder, grinding your ass against his cock and making him groan.

“Behave,” he warns. “Put your foot up on that ledge.”

________

Your heart feels like it’s going to break free from your chest as you lift your leg and rest your foot on the edge of the tub, Joel’s solid body at your back has a shiver running down your spine despite the heat of the water clinging to your skin.

One of Joel’s broad hands palms your breast, squeezing roughly and pinching your nipple until you gasp. He runs the stream up your leg, the water pressure strong but not unbearable.

“I’m gonna get you nice n’ wet,” he says, the water creeping closer to your sex, “And then I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin this little pussy.”

He holds the shower head a few inches away, aiming the fierce jet of water just above your clit so that the pulse of water brings you pleasure without being too overwhelming.

“That feel good, baby?” Joel asks, voice a low rumble next to your ear. You nod your head quickly, chest heaving with labored breaths as water of all things has to you barreling towards release so quickly it’s making your head spin.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you sob, writhing against him as the water continues to pound against your clit. “Joel, I’m gonna cum!”

Your muscles go tense as your release hits you like a strike of lightning, every nerve lighting up deliciously. Joel pulls the water away slowly as your orgasm subsides, setting it back in its cradle while you catch your breath. He’s supporting your body with a strong arm wrapped around your middle, his other hand coming up to your cheek to turn your face so that he can give you a sweet kiss.

“Bend forward for me, put your hands on the wall,” he says. You follow his instruction, your back arched and hips pushed back. He runs his hands over your ass, the soft caress almost reverent but quickly turning dirty as he grips each cheek and spreads them. “Wish I could’a had you here, too,” he says, rubbing a quick circle over the pucker of your ass.

Your face feels hot from the foreign but not unpleasant sensation. “There’s always later,” you reply.

Joel clears his throat, his hands leaving your abruptly and for a moment you wonder if you said something wrong, like you weren’t supposed to suggest that something could happen between the two of you beyond the days spent together in Florida, but just as quickly you feel the thick head of his cock pressing to your entrance, the tip breaching you with ease as you gasp.

He grips your hips tightly, the spots beneath his fingertips aching from his strength as he slips his full length into your tight heat with a groan. He holds himself still, hips pressed to your ass for a long moment before he draws back, the head of his cock dragging across a spot inside of you that makes fireworks burst across your vision.

“Christ, sweetheart,” Joel groans. He thrusts his hips sharply and you cry out, flexing onto the tips of your toes at the sudden rush of pleasure. “How am I supposed to go back home and pretend I’ve never felt heaven like this?”

You moan, your cunt pulsing around him as he pounds into you. The water is starting to go cold but you hardly care with how hot your blood is running.

Joel brings a hand to your clit, rough fingers rubbing quick circles on the over sensitive bundle of nerves, his pace growing more frantic as he chases his own release.

“Give me one more,” he growls, “Be a good girl, baby, cum around my cock one more time.”

Your eyes roll back as you do just as he commands, the combination of his hard thrusts and his quick fingers, along with his dirty words, making you break for a second time. He groans, pulling out to finish over the curve of your ass, warm cum painting your skin before being washed away by the lukewarm water.

Joel urges you to turn around, pulling you close and kissing you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours in a way that feels like a goodbye you’re not ready to say. You pull back and search his face, finding a furrowed brow and a clenched jaw that makes your chest go tight.

“Joel—“

The door opens, uncoordinated steps entering the bathroom, followed by a loud, “Babyyyyy! I need to shower.”

“I’m almost done! Can you wait in the room, you’re letting out all the warm air!”

Sean leaves the bathroom with a mumbled curse, slamming the door shut behind him. Joel takes his first breath since the door opened.

“What the fuck do I do?” He hisses.

“Give him three minutes, he’s going to pass out,” you say confidently.

“How do you know?” He asks. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Trust me, Joel, this isn’t my first rodeo.”

He huffs in exasperation but remains still and quiet as you count down in your head to the window of opportunity to get Joel back to his room. You exit the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body.

“Wait here,” you instruct Joel before carefully opening the bathroom door and peeking through the crack.

Sean is lying face down on one of the beds, messy brown hair the only thing you can see with his face turned away from you. One leg dangles over the edge of the bed and his chest rises and falls with even breaths, punctuated by loud snores. Turning back to Joel, you hold a towel out to him.

“Like clockwork,” you whisper smugly. His lips pinch together like he’s fighting a laugh while he wraps the towels around his waist. You open the door and he dashes across the room quickly, hand gripping the towel for dear life.

You spot his discarded clothing on the floor and gather it in your arms and rush after him, catching him as he opens the door to the hall.

“Here,” you whisper, handing over the bundle of clothes. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and tug his face to yours for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Joel looks like he wants to say something, mouth opening like a reply is on the tip of his tongue, but something passes over him and a wall goes up instead, words dead on arrival. Instead, you receive a curt nod before he crosses the hall and disappears into his room.

________

It’s just after 7 a.m. when Joel pulls his truck up to the curb outside of your apartment. Sean is once again asleep in the back seat while you’ve been riding shotgun in tense silence, your hands twisting in your lap. Joel wants to say something, wants to ask what you’re thinking and whether this is the end of the line for him, but he can’t. He can’t find the words, he can’t find the courage, he just…can’t.

When you open the door, Sean startles awake, looking around briefly in confusion before realizing he’s not at home. “You’re not comin’ back to the house, babe?”

“No, Sean, it’s over,” you say with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” His son replies. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I mean, I’m done faking orgasms and pretending that I don’t know you’ve been cheating on me.” You slam the door shut with finality and Sean slumps back in the seat with a pout.

Joel exits the truck and helps you with your bag, carrying it up to your door. When you unlock your apartment and cross the threshold, he remains rooted in the hall on the other side.

“Thank you for the trip, Mr. Miller,” you murmur. He hands you the suitcase, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “And…if you need anythin’…let me know, alright?”

You smile, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, your lips lingering there. “You’ll be the first person I call.”

Joel feels his heavy heart lighten the tiniest bit.

________

Three days later, a text comes through to Joel’s phone when he’s just getting home from work.

It’s a photo of a new shower fixture with a detachable head, still in the box, set on a bathroom counter in front of a vanity mirror. In the reflection, he can see the curves of your body hugged by black panties and a matching bra.

Know anyone who could install this for me?

Joel grins.

Be right there, sweetheart.

Joel Miller masterlist.

[tinkertea]

MINORS DNI

FEEL GOOD

i've developed a fully fledged kink for men who wear masks, send help

synopsis: you make your boyfriend feel good after gym. pairing: könig x fem!reader warning: heavy petting; swearing category: smut word count: 814

He was sitting comfortably on the couch, his muscular legs spread wide enough so you could sit between them, his arms behind his head. It was ridiculous how good he looked, half-lidded eyes locked at you, watching your every move. His dark blonde hair was messy but you liked it, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly as if suppressing a smirk at the way you were admiring him. No longer was your undivided attention making him nervous, no longer was he questioning whether you found his scars repelling. He knew you barely noticed them, rather focusing on the freckles, on his eyes, on him.

“You look good”, his smooth voice broke the silence. You knew he was right and König knew how lucky he was to have you sitting obediently in front of him, breasts almost spilling out of the black lace bra you had put on just for him. Your fingers were leisurely drawing patterns on his legs as your eyes met his. 

“D’you wanna touch me?”

You nodded, licking your lips at the thought of having your boyfriend at your mercy. He slightly tilted his head at you. “Go on then, Schöne. Make me feel good.”

You didn’t waste time and started to get him out of his training shorts that he had still been wearing. Your mouth watered at his muscular thighs – for some reason you had always found them particularly attractive, whether it was the way they flexed when he was fucking you in a hard but steady rythm or the way they felt when your barely clothed cunt was rutting against them. 

He was wearing grey boxers, a dark wet patch showed off just the effect you had on him. How could he ever deny how blessed he was by having such a gorgeous thing all for himself? Of course he got turned on by the way you greeted him impatiently at the door after he’d finally returned from the gym, your body clad in the black lace, your voice sweet like honey when you’d asked him “Do you like it, König? Bought it just for you” as you gently led him to the couch.

It was a silly question, really. You could tell by the outline of his growing member, by the way his pupils dilated, how his tongue darted out to wet his pink lips - he loved it. 

The groan he let out as you put your mouth on him - only separated by the fabric of his underwear - had you squeeze your thighs together but you were determined. He could feel your hot breath, your lips trying to suck through the fabric. It wasn’t enough, he needed more, more, more. There could never be enough of you.

König felt your lips turn into a smile, you were so cruel, enjoying his demise, his exterior cracking beneath your touch just like this. He had to press his eyes shut as need became a lump in his throat. “Fuck, scheiße, bi- please,” his voice jumped an octave higher.

It was tough to suppress a moan when his cock sprung free, you longed to feel the weight of him on your tongue, to taste him. It was addicting – how he melted beneath your touch, how his face was scrunched up when you hadn’t even done anything yet to warrant such a response. You were addicted to the power he allowed you to have in these rare moments, you were addicted to how he laid his vulnerability bare in front of you.

“I’ll make you feel good, my king, I promise,” you almost purred before licking from base to the top, following the prominent vein on the underside, getting him nice and slick, before licking the pre-cum off the beautiful pink tip. His breath hitched when you licked his slit, König’s hand roaming through your hair like it had a mind of its own before you gently took in your own and placed it on his knee. 

“Be good, my king,” you mumbled against his soft skin, taking as much as you could into your mouth. While your one hand held his fingers tight as you struggled with his length, your other toyed with his balls the way you knew he liked it. The moan that escaped him was enough to confirm this knowledge. “Fuck, fühlt sich das gut an,” he mumbled beneath his breath, his emerald eyes trained on you again. 

He couldn’t miss out on the magic unfolding in front of him. Though his arousal clouded his mind, he couldn’t help but notice how you squeezed your thighs, how your eyes were dark with lust as you enjoyed the taste of him. He was sure that by now you were seeping through the thin lace thong onto the hardwood floor. He didn’t mind one bit, he’d make you lick it clean later – before he’d feast on you himself.

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Would you like an AU in this trying time?

Honestly, I can't remember if I sent you this one before because it is an older one from my brain, but I woke up with it on the mind. Rotating in my brain.

Anyway, another Dark Vampire AU for you.

Humans are, in a word, extinct. Not that they aren't around, but they don't exist outside captivity anymore.

When technology advanced and cloning became easy and cheap, Vampires no longer saw any reason to hunt and capture their food. Instead, they captured and controlled the whole world, putting humans in their rightful place as domestic food or tamed pets.

Cloning added in a new fun activity for vampires: Design Lines. Human beings genetically designed to taste delicious and to have easy to manage temperaments. A cross between Designer Dogs and GMO foods. Genetic control for the benefit of Vampire Kind.

There is a whole industry for design lines. The high end lines are seen as a way to flaunt one's wealth. Covens brag over what kind of humans they have in their possession like a rich person would talk about rare vintages of wine. Design Lines are ABSOLUTELY a status symbol.

Not all lines are Design Lines. Not all Vampires are rich or powerful, but they still need to eat. There are fodder lines that just get sold for cheap, just so Vampires can eat. Usually, these fodder lines are just Design Lines that were considered failures. Something went wrong in the genetics that made them imperfect. Imperfections are noticed when the human is pretty young, so they immediately go on discount and are bought by less affluent vamps.

However, it's a pretty big rule that Vampires don't bite human kids. It's not a law, but it's considered pretty taboo and Vamps would look down their nose at that. Kids don't have much blood. A vampire could ruin them before they grow. It would be a WASTE.

So, nobody realized how DELICIOUS the Blade line was until they grew much older.

The Blade line was a “failed” designer line. They came out with Pink hair, which was strange but could be waved off. The bigger issue was the temperament.

The Blade line was downright aggressive!

Why were the human kids so angry at being contained? Why didn't they act all docile and sweet? It's soooo weird. No one would want to purchase such an unruly human. So, the Blade line was sold off for pennies while they were still kids, the research for the line was scrapped, and the company responsible for creating them moved on to different projects.

Only for years later to find out that the Blade line had THE MOST DELICIOUS blood.

It becomes a collectors nightmare as suddenly all of these big name covens want to get their hands on one of the Blade line. It was a test line of only about 100 humans. Quite a few are already dead, drained by stupid or starving vampires. Some were killed just because they really are stubborn as hell and Vampires don't always have patience for that in their food. Many covens don't want to part with their sudden status symbols. Others are more than happy to win favor and trade one of the kids to a more powerful coven. It becomes a bit of a craze to try and get a Blade line. The company that created them tries to recreate them, but it never seems to work well.

It's a bit of a mess. A new item went viral and now no one can purchase it sort of mess.

Technoblade was purchased by a mid-grade Vampire coven when he was a kid. The Vampires in the coven aren't starving but they certainly aren't anyone powerful. They tended to buy fodder lines for food, but that was out of practicality and frugality, not desperation. They didn't needlessly throw away food, either. Only when it got too old to be of use anymore.

Technoblade had never been bitten. He was approaching the age that it would be acceptable and he saw the looks that the Vampires gave him, but he was also given a wary look. He HAD broken one of the Coven's nose when he swung a iron pipe at its face during an escape attempt.

He had been punished for that.

Anyways, the coven's wariness means that he is never bitten before the coven finds out what a TREASURE he is. How much he is worth. The coven argues on what to do with him. Keep him for themselves? Sell him for more wealth? It's debated hotly with the coven.

In the end, the decision is made for them when one of them accidentally offends the Antarctic Coven.

The Antarctic Coven demands recompense and the coven that owns Techno is frantic. So they do the only thing they can think of.

They offer their Blade Line human to repay.

That MIGHT have been completely planned by the Antarctic, but who could say?

So, this coven drags Technoblade along with his AKC paperwork to the Antarctic Coven, who act so very surprised to get a Blade Line human. Such a shock. But of COURSE they could forgive random coven, they have given them such a great gift.

Technoblade is less than enthused. Sure, the rooms are nicer and the clothes are fancier, but Techno is still not happy to be stuck in the home of leeches.

Anytime they try to so much as touch him, he tenses and tries to punch (or bite) them. Very feral kitten coded. Technoblade reacts with anger whenever Phil or Wilbur or Tommy coo over him. Over his hair. Over his eyes. It pisses him off even more when they seem to enjoy his scathing insults or glares.

Those ARE all trademarks of what he is, after all.

They DO have to confirm if he is ACTUALLY a Blade. Papers can be falsified, after all. And he COULD be from one of the failed recreations.

Of course, the easiest test for that is blood. To compare his blood to the records or the Blade line. Technoblade is VIOLENTLY opposed to getting blood drawn, even if it isn't through a bite. He's held down by Tommy and Phil while an expert carefully draws blood to be tested. Not only tested for legitimacy, but also for health, individual genetic anomalies, but they also rank it's flavor against the others in the Blade line. Just because you might as well be competitive about that.

Techno ranks in the top five on that. Wilbur laughs that his temper must be why.

Technoblade throws a vase at his face.

But he…doesn't get punished for that.

Some Vampire covens break the spirit out of their food/pets/humans. The Antarctic Coven doesn't care for that mindset. It's boring. It's weak to have to beat a human into submission.

They prefer a softer route.

It's so easy to make a human feel safe. It's so easy to give them softness and be rewarded with gratitude. They are well practiced in gently guiding a human to accept the collar they weld around their throats. The Antarctic Coven has done it time and time again.

They don’t bite a human until they are allowed. Until the human agrees. And, usually, that's pretty easy to do.

Except Technoblade is SO. Fucking. Stubborn.

He WON'T agree!

So they keep trying, using the ante. Upping the gifts and the seeming kindness. Giving him a soft room(only one door to leave), a beautiful window view (iron bars to prevent him leaving) and anything he could ask for(within reason). So why isn't he baring his neck for them????

And in that confusion, they have to ACTUALLY see Technoblade as a person. It's been CENTURIES since they have seen humans as people. Like, sure, they were human once, but they don't remember it. But they start treating Techno as a person and not a pet and things…shift.

They bond. They genuinely see Techno and they love what they've found.

Technoblade starts to enjoy them, as well. Their requests to drink become an inside joke between them, Techno giving colorful refusals.

Of course, eventually there would be a moment where Techno feels like they were just manipulating his emotions. Maybe he overhears another Vampire complimenting them on their methods, throwing them all back to square one.

Technoblade is angry and hurt and glares at them with hatred. He wants nothing from them. They can just take his blood and leave him alone. Stop with the games. Just bite him and take away the illusion that they actually care.

The Antarctic Coven looks between each other and agrees. They decide to bite Techno. Technoblade is in emotional agony and doesn't really notice how much the initial bites hurt. Especially with how euphoric it becomes as the venom numbs. Technoblade's head swims. And swims. Until he falls unconscious.

The Antarctic Coven decided that Technoblade wouldn't be food. He would become one of them. Changed. The only time they bit him as a human was to make him into one of them.

Technoblade sleeps for a decade, the change very very slow. And there are quite a few people who think that the Antarctic Coven have lost their minds. They gave up a priceless treasure. But The Antarctic Coven sees that Vampirekind lost something when they ruined Humanity. Like, they had truly destroyed Humanity. The concept of Humanity. And the vain and bored Vampires couldn't even see it.

Technoblade is going to be angry when he wakes, but that value that about him, not as a pet but as himself.

Lenn, words can't express how obsessed I've been with this one lately, I've been on a vampire AUs and bloodbag AUs kick lately the concept is so good and can be done in so many ways ranging from hurt/comfort to dark to fluffy and this one is just -ferally tears up the couch cushions-

[bubbly-minx]

NSFW Scaramouche x GN Reader

CW: NSFW, Sub/bottom reader, Dom/top Scaramouche, Drinking/drunk reader, dubcon, established relationship, Impact play, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Slight degradation. NSFW under the cut! Summary: You get dropped off at home late by your friend after a night of drinking. Scaramouche is upset, and makes that very clear to you. Words: 2.1k

You were holding your phone, pressing down on the power button in a futile attempt to turn it back on after you had just seen it flash its power down screen. You groaned in frustration, knowing that you really should have charged your phone before going out.

You were a little tipsy already, feeling a bit light-headed from the drinking. You glanced over at Venti, who had just called over the waiter to ask for another bottle. It was almost 1 AM, and he didn't even seem effected by the alcohol. He smiled as the waiter left, and downed the rest of his drink in one shot.

You had promised Scaramouche that you would be back home early, saying that you were only going out to grab a few drinks and eat dinner with an old friend who was visiting town. He reluctantly agreed to let you go alone, but only if you promised to come back early. You looked back down at your phone, which was not turning back on. You had left the house with only 50 percent, assuming that the meeting wouldn't last long enough that your phone would run out of battery. But with your friend's drinking habits, you should have known better. "Venti, it's getting late, don't you think?" You said. "I think we should start getting ready to go".

"Nonsense! The night is still young, and we still have so much catching up to do! I don't even know when the next time I'll be able to visit will be." He replied. "Besides, I just ordered us another drink. This one is really good, I think you'll like it"

"But-"

"Is this about your overprotective boyfriend? Sheesh, he's a little bit too clingy don't ya think? It's only 1 right now, I'm sure he wouldn't mind. We're just friends having some fun, everyone has to let loose once in awhile." Venti smiled, tilting his head while he continued to poke fun at you about "having a curfew". You chewed your lip while holding your dead phone, contemplating if you really should stay back longer. Venti's visit to town was super sudden, and it was a rare chance for him to meet and hang out with you before he would go off to travel again for his job. You looked at the clock behind Venti and back at his pleading face.

Before you could really even make up your mind, the waiter came back with two bottles, which Venti had grabbed rather quickly to pour into your cup. "Try it! It's super good. Tastes just like juice". You stared at the glass, smelling the sweet, fruity aroma of the alcohol he had just poured. "Okay but after this, I'm gonna head home". You sipped a little bit from your cup and Venti was right. The drink was sickeningly sweet, and barely had any alcohol taste to it.

Before you knew it, you had poured the rest of the bottle into your cup. And then another.....and another.....

"tehehe, Tell me- tell me the story again. That story about...about you getting, heheh, getting kicked out of dormssss" You were giggling, trying hard to focus on Venti's face. "Okay okay, so, the dorm RA found out that I was bringing alcohol, because someone snitched, right? and the RA raided my room while me and my roomie were drinking, and we both were super drunk so they took all our alcohol and gave us a scolding. But I still had a bottle that-" Your head bobbed up and down as you struggled to stay fully awake to listen to the story. You put your head down on the table, the cool surface feeling refreshing against your hot cheeks. You closed your eyes in bliss as venti's voice faded out while you began to doze off....

"Hey! Hey! Get up! The restaurant is closed, we gotta go!"

Venti was shaking you, trying to get you to wake up as an obviously tired and irritated worker stood by the table. You shook him off, asking for "Five more minutes Scaramouche".

Venti laughed nervously at the worker, before grabbing your arm and hoisting you up to your feet. "Come on, we gotta get you home". Venti apologized and thanked the worker, before walking you out the restaurant while you struggled to keep up.

"Ventiiii, I wanna go hooome. What time is it? Scaramouche is waiting for meee" you said while laughing. "He's waiting at home for meeee". Venti grunted as he tried to keep you on your feet. "Yeah yeah, I'm sure he is, let's get you home, okay?". You trip, sending both you and Venti tumbling down to the floor. You land on the floor butt first, causing you to squeak out an "ouch" while Venti rubbed his elbow. You began to tear up from the pain, and start to whine about how you wanted to go home and see Scaramouche Panicked, Venti grabs your arm while wiping the tears on your face. "No no, don't cry, you just need to walk a little more, come on let's go". You nod, and get up with his help and start walking again. "Thought you would learn how to hold your liquor by now, but I guess things never really change" he mumbled under his breath

Venti eventually gets you back home, and before he can even ask you to get your keys out, the door opens. Scaramouche is there by the door way, and he's standing in his pajamas, very clearly mad as he looks at Venti and then over at you. You hold your head up at Scaramouche and concern replaces his anger as he sees your puffy eyes and dried up tears.

"My butt hurtsss" you whine.

Scaramouche quickly looks over at Venti, before he snatches you into a hug from Venti's shoulder. "Explain." he demands.

"This is a huge misunderstanding, we were walking and they just fell, honest!" Venti exclaims. Scaramouche looks down at you, your eyes already closed again as you tried to sleep in his arms. He stares at Venti before telling him in a low voice, "Get out. Get out and go home. Don't worry about them". Before Venti can react, Scaramouche slams the door shut on his face, leaving him alone outside. "Talk about overprotective...." he mumbles as he starts his walk to his hotel.

Scaramouche places you on your bed, sighing heavily as he walked over to the doorway to turn the lights off. The loss of his warmth stirs you from your sleep, and you get up from bed to protest. With your arms out, you reach for hug. "Scaramouche, I wanna sleep with youuu itso cold".

He freezes, his hand just above the light switch to the room. He stomps over to you on the bed, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? I called you over and over again but you never even picked up. You didn't reply to any of my messages and you didn't come back on time either. Do you even know what time it is?"

You shake your head.

"It's past 3 AM right now. You said you would be home before 1:30. I thought something bad had happened to you. But I guess you just couldn't resist drinking with another man, huh? You were just having so much fun that you didn't stop to call or answer me, your worried boyfriend? You must have loved all the attention your cute little ass was getting and lost a few screws in that dumb little head of yours. You reek of alcohol, it's disgusting. I was just going to let this go for tonight but you just riled me up again. Turn around"

He pushes you over his knees and pulls your underwear down, ignoring you as you yelp in surprise. He looks at your slightly red ass and clicks his tongue, running his palm over the red skin. "Is what he said true? Did you really just fall?" You nod your head yes frantically, and try to scoot away in embarrassment. Scaramouche's hand lifts from your ass and you look towards him, thinking that he was going to let you go now.

His hands slaps back down your ass, leaving a painful stinging sensation. "Stop squirming slut. You thought I was just going to trust that he didn't do anything to you? Ha, as if. You lied to me once already tonight. I'll decide for myself if he did anything or not".

"I promise Scaramouche, he didn't do anything. We just drank a little, just a little-" Scaramouche wordless shoved his finger in you, ignoring what you were telling him. His finger moved and squirmed around in your hole, moving in and out as deep as it possibly could, pushing until he was knuckle deep. "Just a little? Don't make me laugh. The zoned out look in your eyes and the way you're talking says otherwise. Look how wet you are. Were you this aroused when you were with him too? Did your friend touch you like this too?" He pushed in a second finger, stretching you out as he began to push and probe spots that made your head feel funny. He pulled his hand out, inspecting his fingers and your twitching hole.

"Looks like you were telling the truth. But you still need to be punished."

He shoves his fingers back in, moving at a faster pace than before and you began to moan and pant, grabbing onto his thigh as you tried to deal with the pleasure. "Are you mad? Aauhg- I'm sorry, i'm sorry Scara I won't do it again- NNhgh~. Wait slow down, slow down I'm gonna cum, i'm gonna cum, cumming, cumming-" Scaramouche's fingers suddenly left, and you whimper and push your hips out in hopes that your poor, aching hole would meet with his fingers again. Instead, you're met with a spank, which shuts you up. He smirks as he hits you again and again, the strength against each hit getting stronger and stronger as he a watched your plump ass grow red.

"Who said you can shake your hips like that? Like a brain-dead bitch in heat? This is supposed to be your punishment but look how desperate you are for just my fingers. You're so pathetic it's almost cute"

Tears form in your eyes from the pain and he stops, instead rubbing and soothing your stinging butt with his cool hand, shushing you and bending low enough to whisper coos in your ear that you couldn't hear well over your own panting and sniffling.

"Awwwh, Did that hurt? I'm sorry. But now how are you going to win my forgiveness?" You take a second to collect your self and look up at Scaramouche, tears now falling out of your eyes. "I dunno, I wanna cum, lemme cum please" you moaned out.

Scaramouche lifted you up from his knees and placed you face down onto the bed, pushing your hips up into the air. He takes out his already hard cock, stroking it a few times before slowly pushing himself into your hole. Both of you moan as he reaches to the hilt of his dick.

His tight grip on your hips didn't allow you to squirm or thrust back onto him, forcing you to just take him at the agonizingly slow pace he had set. You whimpered as he moved his hands to grope your now bruised ass while speeding up his pace. "You're so beautiful and you're all mine. Mine alone to see this undone, Mine alone to fuck. Don't ever forget that." Scaramouche grunted, his thrusts against your plush ass filling the room with lewd noises. You were babbling incoherently, moaning and clawing at the bed sheets in order to try and ground yourself but you cum, Scaramouche's cock and words being too much to bear.

"I can feel you tightening up, you like that? You like when I fuck you like this and make you cum? You like cumming all over my cock? Fuck, you're so cute like this, all drunk and fucked up. Can you even hear me?

He groaned, feeling you spasm around him as you continued to ride out your orgasm. "I'm going to cum, going to cum inside all over you. Take it, take it all". Scaramouche thrusted his cock in as deep as he could before cumming inside, his cum leaving a hot feeling inside you.

He pulled out, watching him cum leak out of your lewd hole. You panted as your body flopped over from exhaustion onto the bed. Scaramouche leaned over you, reaching down to wipe the tears on your cheek. "I'm going to get the water in the bath started. Just stay here"

You watched as Scaramouche walked out the room, and fell asleep to the sound of the running water.

[shmowder]

Hi!! Absolutely adore and love your writing it’s become like a drug to my brain! So I come baring a request! Can I get some general hcs on how it would be like to (non sexually!) sleep with Artemy,Daniil, Maria and Eva at night!

Thanks kindly if you end up writing this one!!

Thanks for clarifying it's nonsexual, I genuinely would've misinterpreted it otherwise. You're so sweet!!!! <333 I'm glad to hear that.

Sharing a bed with them

[fluff, cuddling]

[Daniil, Artemy, Maria, Eva - GN Reader]

Daniil Dankovsky

It depends greatly on if he's still residing at the stillwaters or not.

Despite the many overnight stays at work and sleeping over his desk in Thanatica Labs, Daniil rarely feels comfortable in any bed that's not his own.

Resulting in a very stiff Dankovsky laying next to you on the mattress, staring at the roof in offence as if it was its fault that the pillow under his head feels wrong no matter how much he adjusts it.

The night is uneventful.

He is the first to wake up–courtesy of never getting much sleep to begin with.

Now, if you were back at his apartment at the Capital instead?

You'd notice the massive difference.

His bed is completely catered to his personal taste, having picked everything out with immaculate care, down to the type of feather stuffings inside his pillows.

Daniil is a many pillows person, you found out.

Yes, even the small decorative ones, he has those.

Like a fish in water, he's completely in his element.

Tense shoulders softening as he sink into the mattress below, jaw unclenching as he buries his face into the pillow.

He enjoys sleeping on his left side.

Depends on how close the two of you are, 9 times out of ten, he'd politely offer you the bed and take the couch himself.

But if your relationship is more on the intimate side and this isn't your first time sharing a bed or being in such close proximity.

Then he'd assume you know you're very welcome in his bed.

It is a little jarring at first to see him without the his heavy coat or the many layers of clothes he adorns.

Seeing the bachelor without his red cravat was akin to witnessing a peacock without its colourful feathers.

Daniil does change into a full sleep set with a button-up long sleeves shirt and matching pants.

Made from breathable cotton, accent colours decorating the collar and cuff ends.

Fitting him comfortably. The "business-casual" of pajamas, something you wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen in by your boss if they dropped for a 3am surprise visit for whatever reason.

He has multiple sets that he cycles between, actually.

But that's a conversation for another day.

Daniil might not initiate touch himself, but if you happen to curl into his embrace or wrap an arm around his waist, Daniil wouldn't pull away.

Moving closer to you in his sleep, the heat of your body feels heavenly against his own under the warm blanket.

By the time you wake up, he's still there.

Sleeping on his side, facing you.

Realising how much softer his face looks relaxed, his overworker mind offered momentary peace.

He might not admit it, but the warmth of your embrace is a luxury he wishes he could indulge in more often, something he'll never take for granted.

-

Artemy Burakh

Whatever preferences and qualms about sleeping he used to have were smoothed out by the army barracks life

He can have the most restful sleeps on any surface.

Even a couch is more than sufficient for his power naps.

At the beginning of his return to the town, he slept stiffly.

Barely moving and staying in place, any twists or turns were the results of another nightmare plaguing his brain.

So as he gets accustomed back to the blissful domestic life where he has his own large bed–an actual bed this time around, unlike the wooden plank makeshift bed in his lair–his old habits slowly return

Artemy moves a lot in his sleep, you found out.

Sleeping on one side and waking up on the other, blanket on the floor, one pillow across the room for some reason.

His previous trait of being a light sleeper fizzles out as he gets accustomed to the security of a safe life.

Becoming more and more heavier of a sleeper.

His bed can fit the two of you, albeit snugly courtesy of his sheer size.

But Artemy has no problems with sleeping next to someone.

He used to have a lot of sleepovers as a kid, Lara, Stakh, and Grief using him as a pillow a lot.

So why don't you sleep on his arm instead of sticking to the wall like a bug?

Even without a blanket, his body feels warm next to your own.

With your head on his shoulder as he laid on his back, you watch the rise and fall of his chest.

Through the hours of the night, his hold on you doesn't falter even as he moves and turns.

You're helplessly dragged with him to the other side of the bed.

From the way his sleeping form keeps hugging you with no intent of letting go, you wonder if he used to sleep with a teddy bear or a plushie as a kid.

Artemy still remembers the way he used to tiptoe to his father's bed at night whenever he was having bad dreams

Isidor welcoming him in without any qualms or fuss.

Even as his son grew tall into his awkward teenage phase, the safety of his dad's embrace stayed a constant in his life, an open option he could seek every night.

Which is way on any given night, it's not strange to find either of Sticky or Murky fast asleep by his side.

Especially Sticky who used to occupy the chair at the end of his makeshift bed each time Artemy slept in the lair, watching over him as if he's afraid the other will abandon him in the middle of the night.

Murky prefers her own bed more, personal space being an important thing to her.

But she still stands in the doorway of his bedroom shyly at least once a month, clearly wanting to join the three of you but too prideful to admit it.

Artemy getting up with an amused smile, picking her up and heading back to bed.

With the four of you in bed, it is a snug fit.

Murky on top of Artemy like a stubborn cat, having hogged one of the pillows to hug as she used his chest as her own mattress.

Sticky on his left, sleeping on his arm because it was his pillow that Murky stole, complaining that his dad's sweater is too ancient and stray wool pieces keep irritating his face.

Finally, you are on his right with your back to the wall.

Choosing to ignore the concerning creeking sound coming from the frame of the bed under you four.

Maybe it is time you convinced Artemy to invest into a bigger one.

-

Maria Kaina

Silky sheets and valvet covers, Maria's bedroom is the embodiment of luxury and elegance.

Yet you can't shake the feeling that something lurks beneath the glamorous surface.

The cracked mirror on her vanity, shattered glass shards still remaining a whole piece despite the gap in the middle.

The aftermath of someone's fist colliding against its own reflection, bloodied knuckles slammed into the glass, shattering the brittle mirror.

Maria often invited people to her wing of the crucible, she doesn't go to others, they come to her instead.

And while that bed has seen her share fair of one night lovers, they never overstayed their welcome.

Maira... doesn't remember the last time she has let someone sleep by her side, just sleep.

The last time she entrusted another soul enough to remain defenseless next to them throughout the dead night.

She keeps a journal–a diary under one of her pillows, you discover it by accident as you adjust in bed.

She's quick to snatch it away, locking it safely in a drawer without offering a single explanation.

Adorning a crimson floor-length nightgown, ruffles alongside the shoulders, a matching robe on top. Both parts of the same set.

Her usually loose hair is secured by a tie in a low bun

other times, it's braided to the side.

whichever hairstyle makes it easier to untangle in the morning, she's not picky.

The mattress is more on the firmer side, the kind that adjusts your spine to it rather than the other way around.

It's good for your back, she explains.

Despite it being a queen sized bed, Marine lays directly in the middle, a force of habit.

Rather than split it in half.

You either stay near the edge of the bed and risk rolling over and falling during the night.

Or take the risk of snuggling up to her.

While a head injury pales in comparison to certain death, you still pick the more exciting option.

She already agreed to let you sleep in her bed...that at least shows that Maria feels comfortable around you.

Her breath hitches when you lay your head atop her shoulder

laying so close to hers, she can almost feel your body heat.

There is a moment of silence as she clearly contemplates her next course of action.

Before giving you an annoyed look, you think oh no, you're doomed.

Until her arm sneaks under your waist, curling around your back and pulling you closer to her.

"If you're going to cling to someone, at least do it properly."

Her skin is cold.

You run your fingers down her back soothingly, she tries to downplay how reactive to the touch she is.

As if no one has granted her a tender touch in years, she hasn't been shown this...delicate form of love since a long time ago.

...not since she was a kid, clinging to her mother's skirt after accidentally ripping the arm off of her favourite doll.

Maria attempts to remain stiff next to you, to school her expression into neutrality.

But amidst the darkness of the room, the realisation that you couldn't see her features even if you tried offers comfort.

Easing her into a sense of safety, her jaw unclenches, after what seemed like an hour, she finally lets go and melts into your embrace.

As the morning comes, she doesn't dare acknowledge the previous night nor speak a word of it.

Back to her usual smug and confident demnour.

Still...she trails at the end of her sentence, a subtle open-ended invitation to spend the night over again whenever the need arises.

Maria doesn't mention the fact her dreams ceased by your side,

That for one night, her mind was put to rest.

No future-plagued visions, no voices from the grave calling her name, no omens of what's to come.

A silent, restful sleep.

And someone's warmth lulling her into a sense of safety.

-

Eva Yan

Fresh out of the shower, having washed the soot of the day off of her, Eva is ready to curl under the convers and doze off.

Her sleep pyjamas are loose and airy, thin straps that keep falling down her shoulders, a pastel pink babydoll nightdress, the short skirt flares at the bottom.

The hair she keeps up in a ponytail is let down, strandends brushing against her shoulders, brushed throughly at her vanity after being dried.

You watch her go about her nightly routine with interest

How comfortable she is in her own skin, how much she pampers herself with cherry blossom scented lotions.

A beautiful smile adorning her lips as she meets your eyes in the mirror, offering you some.

Not wanting to strip to put on the lotion after you got comfy in your sleepwear, you politely refuse.

Eva insists that you should at least try on her chapstick.

It's strawberry flavoured.

Her fingers grip your chin gently, tilting your head upwards to meet her as she puts on the chapstick for you.

It does, in fact, smell sweet.

The atmosphere is light, reminiscent of a sleepover you'd have with a best friend.

Only she can get any person to feel as comfortable with her as an old best friend in such a record time.

Her bed is akin to a cloud stolen from the sky above.

The mattress sinks below your weight, engulfing half of you into it.

Fluffed up pillows stuffed with feathers, a soft cover that's seamless against your skin.

Multiple blankets, in fact, a lot of blankets.

She likes layering them on top of her rather than getting a big one.

Enjoying the feeling of their weight against her skin.

Plus this just means she'll always have enough blankets no matter who comes over.

Eva even takes her favourite blanket with her whenever she's off to spend the night over in a friend's house.

Trust her, you don't want to see the monster she becomes once a fight over the blanket starts.

Because she will win.

Her sharp well-maintained nails aren't just for show.

As her cheerful smile returns to place, you're urged to move on to more important subjects.

Such as, would you care to share a glass or two before bed? Red or white? She keeps both bottles right next to her nightstand, you don't mind the lack of glasses, right? Wonderful!

Blowing out the candles illuminating the room, a slightly tipsy Eva is finally ready to go to bed.

For real this time, no more stalling.

Only five minutes—no six, pass before you're delicately nudged as a quiet "Hey, are you awake?" follows.

You see, she just remembered the funniest story about a cat she saw today.

Would you like to hear it? Of course you would! So she was walking near the river, getting some fresh air as autumn finally cleared out.

Not that winter is any better. It's just more preferable to the twyre bloom season.

To be honest, the chilly weather isn't her style.

She's more of a summer child, but the sparkling snow always makes up for the harsh weather.

But it is a good excuse to share her bed more, nothing is better than to cuddle up next to another's warm body during the cold winter nights.

Which just reminded her, you do plan on staying in the town during the winter season, right?

She'd be so sad if you left so soon.

Even more sad that you never got the chance to view this town during the blossoming spring, the trees flourish and greenry fills the steppe.

She admits that she misses spending more time outside, staying in her house all day probably isn't the best for her.

But Eva doesn't talk to the Stamatins anymore. The Bachelor is always working, and Maria never has the time for her now that she started coming into her Mistress position!

Yulia barely squeaks a word in her presence no matter how friendly Eva tries to be.

She really has no one...so you can't refuse if hypothetically she asked you to accompany her to a picnic tomorrow afternoon?

it will make the most sweet memory, the two of you can watch the sunset together, share dessert and she could read to you one of her romance books.

Oh–sleep. yes right, ah she forgot. Do forgive her, she gets over excited sometimes.

Would you like to...cuddle maybe? She'll play with your hair until you've fallen asleep.

Sweet dreams.

[littlest-w01f]

Middle

Rhysand x Jester (See Jester here)

For @acotar-omegaverse-week

Omegaverse week 2024 Masterlist

Day 7: Free Day

Summary: Rhysand and Jester have decided on a new way they can share their power and pleasure

Cw: Blood drinking, magic draining, Alpha!Rhysand, Alpha!Jester, Smut 18+MDNI

Jester sat in her tree, waiting for Rhysand and their weekly exchange of power, their bargain humming to be fulfilled, her slender legs crossed at the ankles as she dangled from one of its many sturdy branches, the wind ruffling through her long dark red hair.

As she waited for Rhysadn’s arrival, her heart pounded with anticipation and excitement. The thought of their impending meeting sent waves of heat coursing through her veins, making her skin tingle with desire. She could almost taste the sweet satisfaction that awaited them both. The thought of tasting his blood had hers rushing to her ears, she loved the taste of his power, the night-kissed essence of him that he would give her.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar sound of his wings flapping against the night air, signalling his approach. And when Rhysand appeared in front of her, High Lord of Night, rippling with power, she jumped from the tree branch and landed in front of him. This would be interesting, since they were both the Alphas of their kin, both in need to dominate the other.

"You're here," Jester gave him one of her rare smiles, her hands quick to reach his bare neck, feeling the power in him.

Rhysand smirked, "Aww, you missed me." He leaned in, feeling his blood rush faster in his body, like it did every time she pulled his power.

As Rhysand leaned in closer, Jester's fingers traced the strong line of his jaw, her touch sending shivers down his spine. His eyes locked onto hers, dark pools of lust and longing reflecting back. "Always," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. Her other hand slid down his chest, feeling the defined muscles ripple beneath her fingertips.

Without warning, Jester sank her sharp teeth into Rhysand's neck, biting down hard enough to break the skin and release a gush of his rich, coppery blood. She moaned in delight, lapping at the wound greedily as his powerful hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him. Their bodies moulded together perfectly, each curve and plane fitting like pieces of a puzzle designed for pleasure.

Rhysand groaned in pleasure, letting her drink from him, he pushed her into the tree bark, his blood rushing straight to his cock as she ground it against her through the clothes they both wore.

Jester felt Rhysand's growing arousal pressing insistently against her, the bulge straining against his trousers. She grinned wickedly, a drop of his blood still clung to her lower lip as she licked it away. "Mmm…you always get so hard for me," she teased, her hands reaching up to undo the fastening of his pants.

With practised ease, she slipped her hand inside, wrapping her fingers around his throbbing cock. A low chuckle escaped her as she began to stroke him slowly, her thumb circling over the tip teasingly. "I think I'm going to need more than just your powers tonight…"

"I'll give you all the pleasure you want." Rhysand growled, grabbing her chin bloody in his blood and kissed her hard, tasting his own blood on her tongue.

Jester melted into the kiss, her tongue tangling with his in a heated dance of dominance a competition between them on who claimed the other's mouth first. His grip on her chin tightened, forcing her head back slightly as he deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth with an intensity that matched the hunger in his gaze.

As they broke apart for air, Jester's hands moved to her own clothing, deftly unbuttoning her dress to reveal her breasts confined in it. She pulled the dress down to her ankles, her body bare, arousal flowing. "Then show me," She challenged, her voice husky with desire as she leaned in to lick at the wounds her sharp teeth had given him.

A low growl rumbled in Rhysand's chest as Jester's dress hit the ground, his own clothes disappearing with a wave of his hand, exposing their bodied to the moonlight of the Middle.

His hands roamed over her body, cupping her breasts firmly before sliding down to her hips, gripping them tightly. "Beg like a good girl," he purred, his voice rough with lust. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he pressed her harder into the tree trunk.

"Please," She purred near his skin, another of Jester's bites sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through Rhysand, pleasurable for both of them, his hips bucking involuntarily as her nails dug into his back.

He groaned loudly, his fingers delving deeper into her slick cunt, finding her clit and rubbing it in tight circles. "Fuck, Jester… You're driving me mad," he panted, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

As she drank from him, he thrust two fingers inside her, pumping them in and out rapidly. Her walls clenched around him, and with a final, vicious bite, Jester tore her mouth away, her eyes glazed with desire as she looked up at Rhysand. "Now," she demanded, her tone filled with the same dominance that rushed through him, hand tugging at his cock, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want you now, Rhys."

Rhysand groaned at the dominance in her tone, not being used to it coming from anyone else. Rhysand's control snapped under Jester's assertive command. With a feral snarl, he positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her slick folds. In one swift, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, a guttural moan tearing from his throat at the exquisite sensation of her tight heat enveloping him.

Jester cried out, her nails scoring down his back as she adjusted to his size. But soon, she was moving with him, her hips rising to meet his thrusts, creating a frenzied rhythm that shook the very tree they were entwined against. The sounds of their passion filled the night air, their wanton moans, their grunts of pleasure, the slaps of flesh against flesh.

She dragged her claws down his chest, drawing more blood, taking a bit of his power as her own. The pain only added fuel to the fire of their lust, making Rhysand even more insatiable. Each claw mark left behind a trail of blood that mixed with the sweat already coating their bodies.

Her actions took him by surprise, but instead of stopping her, he relished in the way she claimed him, marking him as hers. "Fucking hell, darling," he cursed between gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his climax.

It was intoxicating and addictive, and Rhysand found himself pushing deeper, harder, seeking more of this intense connection between them.

He pounded into her relentlessly, her inner walls fluttering around his cock as she approached her climax. "Come for me, Jester," he commanded, his voice thick with lust. "Let me see how much you love this, let me see how much of a good girl you are."

Jester whined as her claws dug into his skin, her orgasm exploding around his cock, fingers soiled in his blood, Rhysand's vision blurred momentarily as her actions drew his power into her. The sudden influx of energy sent him spiralling into ecstasy, his cock throbbing inside her as he came hard, filling her with his seed.

He rode out the waves of pleasure, his grip on her hips tightening almost painfully. His lips found hers once more, kissing her passionately as their orgasms washed over them, their tastes mingling in a symphony of satisfaction.

The world spun as Jester rode out her orgasm, her inner walls spasming wildly around Rhysand's pulsing cock. She screamed his name, the sound echoing through the Middle, her body shaking violently as waves of pleasure washed over her.

They collapsed together onto the soft grass, their bodies still intimately connected, Rhysand's spent cock twitching inside Jester's clenching depths. Their chests heaved with labored breaths, sweat glistening on their skin, mingling with the blood that still trickled from their wounds.

For a long moment, they simply lay there, basking in the aftermath of their passion, their hearts pounding in sync. Then, with a contented sigh, Rhysand pulled out softly, getting up, "Same time?"

Jester gave a smiling nod, wiping his blood off her chin and licking her fingers clean, "Of course, High Lord."

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

{Rhysand Taglist - @yeonalie}

[pandamorphic]

Beneath the salty waves, a young dragon cried.

She swam, fighting currents and undertows she didn’t yet know, her tears indistinguishable from the home she fled. Fear and sadness and uncertainty dragged her drowning mind ahead until finally she crashed to the surface and coughed away the waves that filled her mouth. She blinked at the sky and seethed with indignation.

It wasn’t fair. The placid ocean gently released her to the beach as little stars twinkled in the clear blue expanse. Why weren’t they angry, full of righteous vengeance on her behalf? Why didn’t the waters rage and churn and spew into black clouds pounding with lightning? As she collapsed into the soft sands, she tried slowing her merciless heart.

“Oh, my dear, sweet Siren. Why do you run from me?”

She froze. She frantically searched the ripples for the telltale glow of scales. But there was nothing.

Why couldn’t she just get away from him? From them all? Even when she managed to leave, he still whispered in her ear, taunting her. She backed away from the water, sand sucking her talons as if they wanted her to stay. The light fractured around her as something blocked the moons. Clouds were gathering quickly, coming from the mainland and clawing towards her. She ran with a strangled wail—

—straight into something solid. She collapsed, the forest that edged the beach spinning around her. She looked up to find a looming figure haloed by moonlight. It had a strangely alluring presence wreathed in the scent of… was it dried coral? Or saltwater taffy? She realized she couldn’t pin down the smell but she knew it as soft and beguiling, like the rare days her parents let her play around the Wobbegong Carpets with the servants’ dragonets.

The world began to settle into its rightful place, and as it did, she realized the figure was a dragon. A huge NightWing, in fact. What was a NightWing doing around the SeaWing kingdom? she wondered.

“Oh, hello there, little one,” the dragon rumbled.

(Cut for insta)

Her eyes stretched wide as she tried hiding her fear.

“That’s it, sweet Siren. Never let them see your true feelings. Chin up and smile. You belong to the palace. To me.”

A sob escaped before she could catch it. Then, like a dam bursting, the onslaught of tears came.

“Ah, shhh,” the NightWing soothed, immediately wrapping herself around the dragonet. “What troubles you, dear?”

The dragon was warm. Not at all like the deep waters she hatched in, or the stiff royals who planned her every move. There was something tender and motherly in the way she caressed the webbing along her back. It was a feeling she never knew herself.

“My— they—“

She couldn’t stop hiccuping and could taste the familiar sharpness that would follow whenever she stuttered or flinched in front of her parents. However, no slap came, and instead the strangers pale eyes held concern rather than anger. So she swallowed and tried again.

“My… my parents. They were upset, and… they hurt me.”

The dragon tutted quietly. “When parents harm their own children… Is there no greater injustice?”

She buried her head in the stranger’s side and whimpered.

“Child, what if I told you I could help?”

She looked up slowly, confused.

“If there was anything, anything you wanted in the whole world, what would it be?”

She paused. What did she want? She was sick of being told what to do, what to say, how to properly act among which dragons. She hated that her parents treated her few friends poorly just because they were servants and commoners. No one listened to her. And she wanted him gone.

“To tell others what to do.”

“A simple enough wish. I can make that happen, little one. I just need something from you…”

———

WHEW this took me a while 😭 first real attempt at a lil comic thing!! Also more oc lore YEAH!! This is the origin of Siren’s power (and how her eyes changed as a result) and another connection with Lady Sybil 👀

[mew-ya]

katakuri headcanons 🍩 - update (1/9)

- assessing his mother and brothers, where do his teeth come from? my thought is that his father is half fishman, as it's previously been stated that quarter fishmen do not have the ability to breathe underwater or really get much special strength--but I think an unusual mouth could be feasible. perhaps he's quarter pelican eel fishman?! that could explain why his brothers look (relatively) normal, it's just a recessive gene that falls out with the stronger human/whatever Big Mom genes are.

- his massive "house" granted to him by his mother is immaculate, spotless, spartan. this is because he doesn't live in it. he has a true living quarters hidden somewhere on komugi island that holds his some of his less grave secrets (such as his silly little hobbies and his preference of milk alternative). he's a private person so no one really goes there. only brulee knows about it, and maybe a few of his other closest siblings.

- he is 48, so he'd be pretty out of touch with the things his young siblings like. he's a humble guy so I think he'd take their "omg youre OLD" bullying in stride, and they'd love him for it. very popular with the kids AND their parents, future sight is the ultimate babysitter ability. he can stop a toddler with a safe alternative before they even think about climbing up a curtain.

- torn on wanting kids himself. he loves them, maybe he wanted them when he was younger. but his family has a lot already and he's a busy man. will he be able to care for them like he wants? how can he shield them from his mother and what she put him through? what if they are born with his face? will his child be able to live their own life without living in his shadow? it's complicated for him, and he thinks very deeply about it.

- it's pretty hard for him to keep secrets from brulee in general. they have a bit of an unhealthy relationship in that regard...they're both very protective of each other, which can make it difficult to get close to them. kata scares off anyone who looks at brulee the wrong way, shooting them a glare or worse if they dont catch the hint. brulee secretly watches anyone from her mirrors who appears to be paying too much attention to katakuri and confronts them if she suspects they're up to no good. she's a sweet woman deep down, but has learned to be a convincing witch.

- katakuri is a sucker for foods that have sweetness, and it's warped his taste buds a bit. whenever people try his occasional cooking, they're a bit taken back by the presence of sugar on everything. he watches for reactions patiently and most are too afraid to offend him, so they pretend it's good. he's a humble guy, so the typically universal praise doesn't go to his head. his brothers might have a stupid nickname for him like "sweetsteak" but he thinks they're joking.

- as for the types of foods he likes to eat besides donuts: I think he'd like bagels of the sweet variety, such as blueberry or cinnamon raisin. though not everything needs to be donut shaped. I think he'd enjoy pineapple on pizza a lot, monte cristo sandwiches, and fruity, tropical cocktails on the rare occasion he drinks. he'd also like curries that balance sweet and spicy well. doesnt really eat all that much meat but he does enjoy it baked into pastries. also see him as someone who puts an embarrassing amount of sugar cubes in his tea. like my dude. you want tea with those sugar cubes? he just keeps going. he literally does not care what you think of his food preference so no one really comments on it anymore.

- Mr power nap himself. he probably sleeps like shit cus he has to keep up appearances as Mr. Perfection, never lying on his back. but I like to think he gets a rare occasion to sleep a full night on his back and he makes a little ritual out of it. covering the windows, making sure no one can disturb or find him, pulls out his favorite book and reads it in its entirety before hes able to fall asleep the normal way...maybe putting brulee on guard duty. but don't ask me if he wears the matching jammies and hat set. I can't clown on him that hard today

- wears gloves cus he's a serial nail picker. originally thought he would be a nail biter but like...his teeth seem a bit extreme for that? i can't imagine him really putting his fingertips at risk like that, so I think he'd be the type to pick at his nails when nervous. the gloves help with that quite a bit, and have an added bonus of protecting his palms from his heavy work schedule. his hands are pretty soft.

- smells kinda like mochi residue, which is to say he smells like rice flour. he also smells like leather and steel, and perhaps a waft of vanilla or strawberry depending on the pastry crumbs he accidentally dropped in his scarf that day. it's a very floofy scarf and he doesn't really take it off so sometimes he gets a bit of food in it. has to wash it daily, probably has a bunch of backup scarves.

thanks for reading 🫡💓 and double thanks to all of the people who've rambled on and on with me and helped contribute to my headcanons about him, or have posted some of their own that I came across and agreed with! I love this character very very much so i always have a lot of fun thinking about little things like this.

- he has acquired a lot of stupid donut decor over the years, thanks to his closer siblings that know his love of donuts. his secret little house is absolutely littered in it. he doesnt really buy this stuff himself, his taste is a bit more punk rock. one year he did get a pretty cool donut-patterened Tiffany lamp that he has by his couch. but most of the time, an easy Christmas gift for kata: donut socks. Peros gets him a different color every year. he's not really that into it, but he appreciates the thought...

new below added 1-9 (about his height, about traveling)

- he is a very tall person, though not giant sized. thankfully, the one piece world is rather kind to folk big and small. it's not any trouble to find the correct size of most items, especially in tottoland. you'll find a variety of specialty stores catering to folks of small and large sizes, and some areas even have districts concentrated around small and big folk with appropriately portioned cuisines. clothes come in a wide variety of sizes even at the smallest of boutiques. although the clothes of many of the charlotte siblings have a certain flair that scream custom made, kata being no exception...

- his size becomes more difficult when he's traveling abroad, and tends to stick to the ships quarters as a place to rest when outside of his home. he's not one to rent out a place, as it is troubling to find accommodations that suit his many needs (including absolute privacy). he would probably rely on his own mochi abilities to generate shelter before ever agreeing to stay in a stranger's abode. he feels moderately comfortable in his personal ships quarters but his typical form of comfort is most often found on the deck, leaning against the mast with a watchful eye on the horizon.

- his duties as minister and commander, as well as his travels as a child with the Rocks Pirates, have brought him to many places. given that his mochi merienda shrine has wano-style architecture, it is not utterly out of left field to think that he has even visited a secluded place such as Wano in the past. while his job and family is rather isolating, he has still experienced a good number of unfamiliar cultures and cuisines. I think that he has traveled less in the latter half of his life but still holds onto some of those memories and would like to go back to the places he went when he was younger.

I'll probably continually update this with new HCs when I get bored 💕

naturally, please take these all with a grain of salt! it's fine to disagree, these are just how I personally see him.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐒

[ PAIRING ] (freckle) Ymir x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Another repost, but I kinda "remastered" it in a sense. [ SYNOPSIS ] uhhh idk I just wanted to write a gay skateboard romance lol. [ WORD COUNT ] 2k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, fluff with low stakes conflict, established relationship, drugs (marijuana), Ymir's skater friends are the worst, mild injuries.

The harsh sunlight shined behind Ymir, creating a halo around her body. She stood over you as you writhed on the concrete cradling your knee.

“I thought you said I wouldn’t need knee pads,” you groaned.

She bit her lip trying to hold back a deluge of laughter. You could tell she was struggling.

“I could not have rolled up here with my girlfriend in fuckin’ knee pads.” She gestured towards a pack of sweaty boys passing around a limp cigarette. “They’d never let me live it down.”

You rolled onto your back and stared at the sun. Those boys were the bane of your existence since you started dating Ymir. Everywhere she went they trailed after her, smelling like piss and malt liquor. She was the worst iteration of the pied piper.

“What if I really hurt myself?”

“Oh come on, you’re fine.”

“No I’m not! I’m bleeding! Look!”

You rolled up your jeans and revealed a huge strawberry scrape encompassing the entirety of your knee cap.

“That’s nothing. Check this out.”

Ymir unzipped her shorts and pulled them down revealing her bare ass which was engulfed with a purple bruise.

“Oh my god!”

“Cool, right?”

“What? No!”

“Oh my god. Relax.”

One of the boys wolf whistled at the sight of Ymir’s behind. You rolled your eyes, hoping she would call them out but she didn’t. Ymir never did. She was too preoccupied with coming off as legit among her skater friends. Anytime you mentioned how awful they were she brushed it off. That’s just how they were; there was no changing them. You knew she had a point but it seemed asinine to deal with their nonsense regardless.

“‘Mir, lemme get a piece of that.”

“Nah, I’ve been fuckin’ your mom. It’d be weird.”

You rolled your eyes again, a common occurrence on your behalf when she pandered to them. They brought out the worst in Ymir. Her playful teasing turned into cruelty, she was prone to ignore you in favor of entertaining them, and she rarely came to your defense. Often you wondered why you still pursued her, why you so desperately wanted her to be your girlfriend. But anytime you’d think about ending it moments of her kindness reared their heads.

“Bend your knees. No, like bend your knees.”

You lowered yourself into a deep squat on the board, grinning like doofus.

“Am I doing it right? I feel like I am. I played a lot of Tony Hawk Pro Skater 3,” you said, knowing full well you were acting a fool.

Ymir ran her fingers through her chestnut brown locks and laughed. Her laughter was your drug. Nothing made you happier than getting her to crack up. Her whole body laughed. Tears welled up in her eyes. She was prone to wheezing. A snort tended to rear its ugly head when she was truly on the verge of going insane because of your buffoonery. Sometimes she’d even keel over.

You loved how she’d smack on the back and tell you, “You’re a real one, you know that?”

A real one. Words that only mattered when they fell from her lips. Ymir had that gift, that power. She was able to disarm you with her sincerity. You would’ve never expected someone as harsh as her could be so sweet.

You hoisted yourself off the board and kissed her cheek.

“Oh come on, kiss me for real,” she crooned.

She cupped your face and her soft lips met yours as her tongue parted your lips. You wrapped your arms around her neck and clung to her. Her breath was sweet and tasted like Arizona Peach Tea. Her hands wandered down your back and lingered on your ass. She squeezed hard enough that you yelped. Ymir laughed through the kiss.

“Too much?” she asked.

You looked down at your sneakers unsure what your answer was. You liked her a lot, more than any of the dumb boys you “dated” in high school. None of them could compare to Ymir. Ymir, who cared about your pleasure, who appreciated how spirited you were, who thought you were the smartest person in any given room. The two of you were enraptured with each other. It was as cliché as could be: time stopped, angels sang, the whole deal.

“If we weren’t in public, I’d say not enough,” you said, resting your head on her shoulder.

She tightened her hug and you melted in her arms. Ymir was safety personified. A beacon of light in a sea of melancholic boredom. Life had been so uneventful until the day she serendipitously rolled by you, giving you a wink as she faded into the distance.

“You’re so fuckin’ boring sometimes,” she mused. “Let’s go get high.”

“Can we get pizza and boba after?”

“No, we can’t,” she said bluntly.

“Ymir!”

You playfully punched her in the arm. While your hand was in reach she grabbed a hold of it and pulled you into her embrace. She peppered your face with kisses as you tried to figure out if you wanted pizza or boba first.

You sat on a metal bench, your feet resting on your board. Nursing your knee became your number one priority. It throbbed endlessly and you managed to bleed through multiple bandages and your jeans. Learning how to skate could wait. Having a moment to yourself, away from those idiots, Ymir included, was the only way you’d stay sane. To add insult to injury every last one of them made fun of you for holding your board by its trucks.

“Nice mall grab,” one of them bellowed. “Where you get your board from? Abercrombie and Fitch?”

“They got it at the Vans store,” one snickered.

“Nah! Macy’s, bro!”

“They’re mom gave them a gift certificate to the Hallmark Store.”

None of them were particularly clever. You looked around for Ymir, hoping for some backup but she was far away. Her little brown head disappeared as she dropped into the bowl.

“Fuck off! Go wash your asses,” you yelled.

The boys erupted into a cacophony of comments regarding how you carried your board. A deluge of “your mom” jokes rushed over you, leaving you drenched in male insecurity.

“Asshole. Mall grab?” you muttered to yourself. “The fuck does it matter?”

You wanted to ask Ymir if there was an actual reason for mall grabbing being maligned. Would the trucks loosen over time if you continuously held it like that? Or was it merely a status thing? Was there a way to indicate you weren’t some poser that decided they wanted to skate after seeing three seconds of Bob Burnquist do a fakie 900.

Ymir skated over and kicked her board into the grass. She sat down across from you with a thump and exhaled.

“You good?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Not really.”

“What ha—”

“What’s wrong with a mall grab?”

She snickered as she put her hair up in a messy ponytail.

“I mean, nothing. It’s credibility shit.”

You sighed.

“What?” Her tone was pointed.

“I hate those guys you hang out with,” you said under your breath.

Ymir turned her body towards yours. Her brow was sweaty and her cheeks were flushed. The sun brought out the freckles that danced along her cheeks and nose. She plucked at the grass while struggling to hold your gaze.

“They’re my best friends, my ride or dies.”

“Tell your mom to eat my fucking dick cheese, dude,” one yelled as he cracked his board in two.

You rolled your eyes and stared at the blue sky as little wisps of white clouds floated by.

“Why do you hang out with them?”

Ymir took out a joint and lit it. She passed it to you and continued to pull grass out of the ground.

“I’ve known them for, like, ever.”

“And?” you asked, growing slightly annoyed. You at least hoped she had a good reason to subject herself to their antics.

You took a hearty drag on the joint and held the smoke in your lungs.

“I don—I don’t know who I am without them.”

You coughed, spittle flying onto the sidewalk.

“What?” you asked, trying to fight off the urge to shriek your question.

You passed her the joint eager to get the smoke away from you. You felt like your lungs were on fire, like you had embers smoldering inside you. She took a hit and went to hand it back to you but you shook your head erratically, still struggling to breath.

“I—I just—I’ve been friends with them for so long. I’ve known Lil Tony since I was six.”

She pointed at one of the nicer boys. Lil Tony was actually cordial towards you and thought it was pretty cool you wanted to learn how to skate. However he still relished in poking fun at you just like the others.

“I was always so nervous around other girls so I kinda, I don’t know, fell in with these dumb asses because it felt… safe? Nah. Not safe, comfortable. I didn’t need to impress them.”

Ymir ended her sentence with a rather large puff off the joint. She held it to your face for you, beckoning you to take a drag.

“You felt like you had to impress girls?” you said, taking a hit.

“Shut up!” She tossed a handful of grass at you. “I was so fuckin’ closeted. I could not function around girls. I was either like ‘I’m in love with her’ or ‘oh god she’s gonna think I’m a weirdo that's in love with her’. I policed my shit so bad. I was so mean to girls because I didn’t want them to think I was some predator because I was being nice.”

Ymir brushed some of the grass off of you. She could be so fucking tender sometimes.

“I feel it. I’m always terrified of coming off as perv when I talk to girls,” you said, handing her the joint.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. It’s even worse if I’m actually interested romantically.”

“Exactly,” she rasped after taking a hit.

The boys turned towards the both of you and hollered, “’Mir, come skate! Don’t be a nerd!”

“Eat shit,” she yelled, a huge grin on her face. She was practically glowing.

“I felt so weird chasing after you,” you confided.

“You woulda looked insane chasing after me down that hill even if you were a guy.”

“You winked at me!”

Ymir erupted into a fit of giggles.

“That’s all it took. A wink?”

You brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Yup.”

You leaned in and kissed her, your lips lingering on hers.

“You wanna ditch this fuckers?”

You pulled away from her, nearly jumping up as if you’d been electrocuted. Quickly you grabbed your board by the deck. You were so ready to ditch them.

“Let’s go, slow poke,” you rallied.

Ymir got up and rustled your hair.

“I love the way you’re holdin’ it, but we’re skating out of here.”

You gulped. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“C’mon. What’s the point of having a board if you don’t ride it?”

You groaned.

“I didn’t get you one to carry around,” she teased, her tone more flirtatious than ever.

“Fine,” you finally acquiesced.

“We’ll get to the taqueria faster this way.”

You both hopped on your boards and cautiously skated past Ymir’s friends.

“Ay,” Lil Tony called out, “good job ditching the mall grab. I actually mean that! I’m not bein’ a douche!”

Your face grew warm. You couldn’t care less about what they thought of you but the acknowledgment from Lil Tony was a nice surprise.

“See ya, Tone,” Ymir yelled.

Balance blessed you. Somehow you managed to stay upright on your board and you navigated curbs with ease. Ymir was blushing the whole time, clearly loving your confidence. You passed the joint back and forth as you skated through the city, keeping an eye out for cops.

“So who’s paying?” you asked as you rolled up to the taqueria.

“Me obviously,” Ymir mumbled as she dug through her fanny pack for her debit card. “I owe you.”

“For what?” you pondered, playing dumb.

“Making you hang around those dicks and not being the best girlfriend. I hope I can, I—I don’t know, redeem myself.”

You held open the door and smiled. The smell of freshly made corn tortillas overcame you.

“You’re well on your way, Ymir.”

[dufferpuffer]

what types of books do you think remus would be into, if any? i see a lot of people tend to view him as a big fan of ancient greek/roman literature or just classics in general and while i do like the idea I'm very curious on what your thoughts would be about it.

Remus book taste HC:

Mysteries, Murders, Detectives - the occasional Spy or Sci-fi... the occasional sweet romance, and the occasional cheap smut. He likes stories of regular, unassuming people being clever and righteous, going on adventures - and getting to know others on a deep, personal level, even if it is just to 'read' them for a case. Non-Fiction - especially when he was a kid - especially magical.

For comics he likes comedy and children's adventures (not heroes)

More below:

I do think he is a bit of a bookworm. It's something quiet to do between jobs, while traveling, while resting (when it isn't too exhausting to read) that takes his mind off of reality for awhile. Being unable to make friends as a kid he probably read a lot then, too.

His father working - his Muggle mother was likely home taking care of him and homeschooling him, so he would be very familiar with Muggle authors, though his dad would have passed down Wizarding stories too. I like to think his mother, an imaginative woman, enjoyed them just as much. They left out any story with a Big Bad Wolf.

I think he would have always struggled a little with stories about friends going on adventures (The Famous Five/The Secret Seven, that sort of thing) - but have loved them the most. The idea of a group of friends going on adventures, solving mysteries was just... an impossible dream. Reading them was bittersweet.

For similar reasons - superhero stories didn't fully appeal. Someone having secret powers, or transforming, wearing a costume so nobody could recognize them... it just didn't hit for him. It felt a little sad that they had to hide themselves, too... that they had to work so hard just because they had a 'responsibility' to keep others safe.

With a dad whose job was studying non-beings, and probably took him out on adventures to find little Dark Creatures and such - He would have devoured non-fiction. Especially magical non-fiction. Seeing the world made him feel more connected with it - and he could talk to his dad about stuff when he was home.

He has a slight taste for the morbid, the dark, the spooky - it's what his life is after all. There's catharsis in engaging with terror when you're in control of it for once, when it is just a story. Spooky stories - as he got older, proper mysteries became his favourite. Agatha Christie is a beloved Muggle author and his mother jumped on the chance to introduce him, as cliche as that is. (It was something Albus picked up on - and shared with him. Agatha was just a little younger than him, and he was rather enamored with her publishing's as they were coming out - he has a personal collection of first editions.)

He stuck with mystery's as he got older, too - the best part about them was they were often about an unassuming hero, a simple detective or a lovely old lady, working largely on their own to do the right thing. Using their minds and never quite trusting anyone. THAT speaks to him far more than any superhero.

Muggle sci-fi could be fun, as could Spy novels... ...But his guilty pleasure, one that physically hurts him to read in the MOST bittersweet way, is romance. Romance and Porn. He rarely does it - it's embarrassing, for one thing - but he longs for connection... and the constant "Wife strangled her husband to death" of murder stories can get depressing.

Sometimes he wants to read about an awkward, stern but thoughtful guy falling for a simple, bubbly dame... he can experience a little bit of love and romance in his life, though he knows its impossible. Sometimes he also wants to read about a flock of Veela fucking the absolute brains out of an unsuspecting captured researcher, too.

With all the stereotypes of "Werewolf libido" (which are not true) he feels guilty engaging with his sexuality at all... stories about men being able to safely let go, lose control and be looked after are a weakness.

He was caught once reading a romance novel at school - and was teased for it by his friends. They'd all look at raunchy magazines together, they were teens. He pretended to be less interested. "Come on Moony - isn't it close to Full Moon? Where's your fire?!" Just another jeer he shook his head at... and worried whether or not the stereotypes were true. He should push it all down, just in case...

... I don't really see the 'classic literature' or 'Roman/Greek' angle. Why? To make him seem smart? He reads old plays from an ancient Muggle period - and 'the classics'...? What enjoyment does he get from that? Like where does that specifically piece into his character? I can see him enjoying some classics, and enjoying some Roman stuff, sure - but he never comes across as a history buff. He comes across as a lonely nerd.

[pandoradoesotherstuff]

How Your Companions Would Spend Christmas at Camp:

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

A/N: Happy holiday's everyone, no matter what you celebrate or don't celebrate! I hope you have a good time, irregardless. 🥰

This is just a fun little something because, although I'm in no way religious, I like this time of year. (To a certain extent. 😂😂)

Enjoy! ❤️

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

Astarion:

Doesn't remember how he used to spend the holidays before.

Quite happy lounging about camp and telling everyone else how to decorate the tree properly. "It's blatantly obvious I have the best taste in camp, darling. You can't expect me to do the hard work and make the decisions. That's what our oh so fearless leader, Tav, is for".

Develops a taste for mulled wine and wonders aloud if mulled blood could/should be a thing.

Gale:

Absolutely loves the idea of spending Christmas altogether.

Suggests getting a tree because he can finally have one that Tara won't knock down.

Spends the entire day cooking with numerous fires and self stirring pots.

Backhandedly complains the entire time but then refuses anyone's help.

Falls asleep as soon as he's finished eating but insists he's merely just "resting his eyes".

Halsin:

Single handedly carries the tree into camp.

Doesn't need a ladder or a flight spell to place the star on top.

Insists he doesn't want a gift from anyone but loves the jar of honey Tav gave him and refuses to share.

Whittles everyone a personalised duck. I.e, Shadowheart's wears her Sharran circlet around its head. Astarion's has fangs. (Or should that be Goostarion.)

Karlach:

Is 100% the most enthusiastic for the celebrations.

Excitedly tells anyone who'll listen about her childhood Christmases.

Keeps cursing Zariel/Gortash for not being able to kiss anyone underneath the mistletoe.

Bursts into carols at any given point, although she doesn't remember most of the words to them, so instead, she makes it up as she goes. Scratch enjoys barking alongside her.

Lae'Zel:

Doesn't understand what this "crest-mass" is all about even after Karlach explains several times.

"This sounds like a frivolous waste of time. Istik children would be better off training as to avoid being slaughtered by their enemies."

" Bah...humbug? What does that mean? I've never come across such a word in any of the teachings. It may be very powerful to be so rare"

Starts to like the idea of "crest-mass" more when Tav gifts her a new heavy crossbow.

Shadowheart:

Pretends like she isn't that interested in the celebrations but finds herself humming along to carols she didn't know she knew. (Thanks Shar!)

Develops a taste for mulled wine along side Astarion.

Helps Karlach and Tav to decorate the tree, sad that it doesn't bring back any childhood memories like they have but keeps it to herself.

Gets (mulled) wine drunk before dinner and sleeps through the whole thing, wakes up just in time for dessert.

Wyll:

Heartily agrees that celebrating Christmas would be good "for morale".

Gets drunk after dinner and tries to dance with Lae'Zel. (She refuses)

Shares a sweet moment with Karlach after she gifts him a "horn care" kit.

"I've never been more glad to have missed my prey, Karlach. Mizora was wrong, you're anything but heartless.

Scratch:

Is absolutely the bestest boy ever. Enough said.

[one0p1nk]

In your opinion what would your friends arts taste like?

// Ahhhh I won't exactly describe everyone's art here so I'll only describe based on what I recently ste :3

Klai's art tastes like Oreo... why? How to explain this,,, You know the many things you can do with oreo like split in half, dip it in milk, add cream on it, and whatever crazy stuff people do on it before eating it--- That's what Klai's art feels like. You savor it in different emotions... it can be unhinged, wild, wholesome, makes you crying... or multiple at the same time. 😭

Beth's art tastes like egg tarts. Sweet on the center for its content while bordered by slightly crunchy edges... yum yum yum.

Fifi's art tastes like... these Danish butter style cookies. Her drawings are like treats of surprises, you wouldn't know what kind of shape of cookie you'll get next once devouring the first level of the cookies.;;; and you'll never get tired of it bc I luv butter cookies so much nom nom nom nom---

Yami's art tastes like fruit gummies,, usually cherry flavored gummies. It looks bouncy and feels squishy, and tastes sweet. Sometimes, even soursweet when art makes you cry in tears;;;/lh

Joe's art tastes like bubble gums-- so many flavors of bubble gums. But in general, you would get this strong black mint flavored type of gum if I describe the communion and tricksterherald content she gives---/lh like is so powerful and refreshing I feel edgy when brainrotting about the communion rahhh 🔥🔥🔥

Mandi's art tastes like... André's chocolates??? Tbf, It's an extra dark chocolate bar, one of my favorite treats since childhood ngl. The bitterness and strong flavor are so yummy it makes me cry or go silly sometimes hehehehehehe;;;. The dark themes, angst, ocs just havibg trauma stuff going on--- chef's kiss✨️ The art she gives reminds me of that treat/lh

Kory's art tastes like Pirulin. Like her art treats are so silly good, it's a bit rare for me to see her delicious drawings,,,/lh It feels like how I rarely get to eat Pirulin sticks when I was younger;;;😭🥺

Nezumi's art tastes like lollipops. They give a big variety of flavors that make your mouth have different colors-- she has almost all the themes (fluff, comedy, piece of life, angst). You suck on one, and before you know it, it's already gone. Shows how I love their art so much I would always look forward to cherish it whenever they decided to bless my eyes with another drawing hhh;;;

[star-mum]

Gar and Jason with a Physically Affectionate!Reader

A/N: I was going to do the whole team but I got overwhelmed 🫠 as always I’ll pepper in the fact that I’m brazilian, platonic physical affection is very common here and since it’s not in the US – culturally at least – and these bitches are all emotionally constipated and touch starved, i thought their reactions to casual touches might be ! I also based these headcanons – mostly – on how my friends and I treat each other ! 

This kinda morphed into a different thing altogether as I wrote it but anyways, Im tagging @pinkchubbiebunnie (i was itching to just send you this undone the whole time) and @trice-divergent (you’re literally watching me type this out – creep – but thank you for helping me with the older Titans, I was struggling)

Garfield Logan:

the most physically affectionate out all of the Titans, and even so that’s not saying much -> they’re all a little touch starved

He’s normally the one who offers up hugs when needed, who initiates it 

I feel like only giving/getting hugs when things are bad would condition him a little to only expect that when shitty things are happening 

So he’s very confused — but pleasantly so — when reader just offers physical affection when good things happen and sometimes just because

Ranges from simple almost impersonal stuff like “hey good job at training” hi-fives to really sweet tender moments like holding his hand, caressing his face or cuddling for movie nights or when one — or both — of them can’t sleep

Let's assume you’re not yet in a relationship: he’s so flustered ALL. THE. TIME. Always finds excuses to be near you so you’ll be able to touch him, weather that’d be lightly slapping his arm when you’re talking about something you excited about, booping his nose whenever he looks too serious

For PDA I think Gar actually really likes it, as long as it's tasteful, you know? 

Like holding hands? Yes! Please hold his hand when going out or during movie nights or just whenever ! 

Holding onto his arm and/or leaning on him during team meetings or when waiting in line for something? He always gets so giddy when ppl can see how much you like being near him

Hugging/cuddling/cradling his face —> please do! It calms him down, also just feels nice to both be so casually close and feeling wanted in front of other ppl (like you’re not embarrassed or ashamed of him) 

Jason Todd:

he honestly looks like he’d bite your hand off if you tried to touch him

Is dealing with that weird period of being touch starved -> loathes being touched x craves physical affection

Would for sure say some awful fuck boy shit if you keep touching his arms to get his attention, I cringe just thinking about it (i crave him)

if you’re not dating, whenever a touch is a little too tender and sweet he’d feel the need to compensate or hide how much it made his heart race with some either mean or flirty bullshit 

if you are in a relationship though, i feel like the flirting would get so much worst -> the team hates you – not really – every time another “babe” comes out of his mouth, fake gags can be heard all throughout the Tower

PDA = he’s gross, terrible, disgusting – i must have him –  really doesn't care who is/isn't around will be as touchy as he feels like

definitely gets a habit of slapping your ass, its not even a sexual thing – for the most part – but the first time it happens in one of the common areas the room gets deadly silent →I don't know who’d be more mad about it, you or one of the grown adults who have just been subjected to that

Extra - Platonic Team Reactions (i had some of these already written down so why not)

Rachel Roth:

she really likes to give her friends hugs !!

too shy and nervous to make anyone uncomfortable so she rarely goes for it tho : /

I think she’s always cold – like her hands are always a bit cold – so I also think she’d like holding hands, specially if your hands are more warm then not

tired and sleepy always – her powers seem tiring – so can and will just take a nap on your shoulders whenever, it's pretty impressive actually

Conner Kent:

he’s just an overgrown toddler, you honor → feel like once you start with the hi-fives or fist bumps, he gets too used to it to stop or question it

“yes, this pasta definitely requires a fist bump, you're absolutely right”

the embodiment of “if i run and leap at Terry right now he'd definitely catch me in his arms” → you tried this once !! no one managed to get the coffee stains off the carpet after that : D

Miscellaneous:

Kory Anders: not one to initiate physical contact but that doesn't mean she dislikes it; due to her powers, i assume her skin is always warm -> so if you’re cold – like Rachel – she really doesn't mind holding your hand so you feel better 

Dick Grayson: awkward dad mode engaged; not used to it at all – thanks Bruce, father of the fucking year – but i can see him resorting to those awkward head pats (Jeff to Annie in Community), starts with him not knowing what to do to it kinda becoming his thing 

Hank Hall: definitely the type to give shoulder like taps/slap dad’s do when they are proud of you, completely underestimates his own strength tho → they don't hurt !! but if you're distracted/not expecting you’ll definitely be thrown out of balance a little; other than that I don't see him initiating much, but if you need/ask for a hug he’ll definitely provide !! 

Dawn Granger: mom friend ? Mom friend ! Gives the nicest hugs and somehow always knows when you need one; head pats but they're not awkward like when Dick does it

Donna Troy: I don’t think she’s very touchy ! doesn't mind if you need a hug or something, but she’s definitely not one to initiate or seek it