#no more massive platforms or hurt necks

[knifefightandchill]

comic con tomorrowwwwwwwww

[wroteclassicaly]

Summary: A confession leads to unexpected heartbreak.

18+

Warnings: Language, smut, hurt/no comfort, one sided feelings, heartbreak, angst GALORE, self-esteem issues, mentions Steve’s past head trauma, insecurities on both sides, jealous Steve, mentions Nancy, best-friend!Reader w/ best-friend!Steve, and friends to lovers. This one hurts, folks!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Word count: 3,985

A/N: No banner for this! Just some raw writing I did early into the hours of this morning/night, adding on some today. I wanted to try something different, so enjoy!

Note: Also posting this the day after I wrote it. Okay, lmaooooo.

“I love you, Steve.”

The words come easy to you, the courage taking years to build. But once they leave your mouth as you’re cradling his neck’s nape, playing with the chocolate curls that have grown out there, you cannot figure out why you wasted time not saying it. It’s been an ongoing thing between you two — a two year thing, in fact. Never any pushing for labels, no exclusivity. You were patient, he was giving, and you assumed you were both reading on the same page.

In a few minutes, however, you’d find out how very wrong that you were. You wished that your mouth and your legs had stayed closed around your best-friend, Steve Harrington.

It was a typical weekday, no dates planned, acting as if his last date hadn’t upset you, or that you enjoyed the one you forced yourself to go on with some guy, so that your feelings weren’t completely obvious. Sidenote: to mostly everyone but Steve, they kinda were. Steve had called you after your shift at the local Burger King, asking if you wanted to come over and spend the night. Not unusual. You always trade spending nights, rolling around on various surfaces, before enjoying breakfast together.

Intimate, casual, perfect.

Your answer was an automatic yes. A quick shower after work for you, a return phone call, and he’d gotten in his BMW, picked up some takeout, went to your door to get you, held your hand to the car, opened your damned door, and the dessert had been him between your thighs. This night in particular, it was one of pent up frustrations and desperations that had just one satiable cure. You ended up on top of Steve, his back pressed into the headboard, mutual clothes scattered all over his bed.

His shoulders became leverage, his massive palms spread out on either side of your waist, pinching the plush skin into his palming grip. Nose dusting across a defined nose bridge, caught in a cheekbone, with kisses rushed, deep, sloppily trying to stay focussed, but driven to reach that place buried inside one another.

Steve’s thighs provide a platform for you to sit upon, ankles locked around his back. He’s slippery with sweat, places you’d like to lick clean. You pull back from your cove to say it again, unable to stop yourself, going in for a kiss. You don’t think he heard, he’s humble sometimes, disbelieving in others. One hand cups his jaw, the other staying put to card through his hair, moisture pooling between your fingers.

“Hey? You still with me, big guy? I said I love you.” You’re smiling softly, thumbpad caressing his jawline. You feel it twitch, his shoulders tense.

Is he gonna cum? You know the signs. “Steve?” Something in your guts feels a little off. You ignore it.

“I know what you said. I heard you say it the first time.” He interrupts, tries to remain impassive, his hips slowing from your combined movements.

Like salt in the wound, a fresh slap to the face. No way.

“You heard me say that I love you?” You have to try one more time. He’s been hit in the head a lot, maybe he didn’t get it? He couldn’t have, right? Are you really this stupid, this dense?

You attempt to kiss him, to lay it all down through your actions, rather than your words this time, but your mouth doesn’t get the chance to meet him.

His lids flutter closed, he sighs, his face leaving yours, hands lifting off your body to wrap around your wrists, slowly untangling them from his neck. “Stop, alright?”

You feel your heart rate accelerate, your body tensing, your throat is choked with a teary panic, a bulldozer driving across your organs, settling atop you with its weight. Every single wall you still have built, they slowly shake off their cobwebs to rise from the dust, smothering you in the smoke. And he’s suddenly a very tight fit, to the point where you’re wincing, body immediately wanting, trying to push him out. He notices, one hand dropping to the side of your face. “Hey, hey. Hon —“ He stops himself, lets your nickname drop, falling back into your regular name.

He isn’t sure who that action hurts the most.

One look at your vacant expression and Steve feels as if he’s been sucker punched, that he’s the meanest version of himself he’s ever been.

He’s still inside of you, you let him into your body, you told him a sacred set of words. And this is what he’s doing to you? Hurting you to the point where your body starts to get frightened? But he couldn’t just come while you poured your heart out, he couldn’t continue like his world was normal anymore. He reaches down to wrap around his base, face wrinkling, teeth gritting. You’re so fucking tight that it hurts, his cock aches for you when he eases his way outward, dragging combined essences with him. ���Let me just…” He starts, deep voice a rocky, rasp, finishing when his length is gone from your body, dripping with you onto his sheets, covering him.

Once he’s out, you’re already passed the point of overwhelming vulnerability. Your legs clamp closed, your hands cover your chest, unwillingly to wrap yourself in his damn sheet that smells like home to you. Steve is unsteady on his feet, halfway hard, but slowly softening at your nearly curled position. You aren’t looking at him, you won’t, you cannot. It’s not safe right now, because if you do, it’ll all come apart and it won’t stop. Steve is on overload in his own head, eyes sparkling, tears matted into his lash-line.

He has to breathe through his nose when he says it. It’s wrong, it’s so fucking wrong. But he’s helpless, he can’t take this environment, he wants to run from you, from your words.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll, uhm… I can take you home if you get dressed.”

He’s blinking away blurry vision as he catches your wounded, tear fogged expression the moment that he’s snatching his boxers and jeans off the bed, and making for the bedroom door. He shuts it and leaves you to re-cloth yourself in silence. It’s honestly deafening, you’re not sure how you manage. Revealing your body to his room, to his scent, pictures on his wall, various trinkets, but not him. You’re shaking as you put on piece by piece of fabric, dreading having to see him.

Your hand hovers over the door, giving several pauses before you open it. You step out onto the deep carpet, plush across your feet, mashed against your toes. He’s nowhere in sight. And you remember that he took his clothing, so he’s probably getting re-dressed.

Fuck this. It’s in your brain on broadway lights, body in flight mode. You’re heading down the staircase and snatching your shoes up by the entryway, forgetting your purse in his room. You don’t care anymore, you have to get out of here, this place closing in on you like a funhouse. You shut the door as quietly as you can, then you’re sprinting down the Harrington’s driveway.

Is it dramatic? Yeah. Oh-fucking-well, you’re running on adrenaline so your body doesn’t feel the disgusting agony that’s slowly eating its way through your insides. You get about halfway and you hear footsteps approaching at high rates, your name being chanted. Steve is at your side in seconds, breathless.

“Shit, you scared me. Why the hell did you leave like that?”

Your eyes widen to give him an incredulous look, and that’s when the tears escape, rolling down your cheeks. Steve sees your disheveled state next. No purse, no shoes. Your blouse is halfway hanging off your shoulder. It’s an automatic instinct, his fingers brushing underneath the fabric, dragging across your skin as he pulls up to secure it.

You want to flinch away, but you don’t. Hurt settles in his brows. He’s fucking incredible with that question. “You aren’t wearing your shoes. You can’t leave my house like this.”

Autopilot flies in to protect you, leveling off everything else that you could say or do. There’s no anger, there’s no sorrow, there’s nothing. And that’s what scares him the most when you say, “I just wanna go home.”

He can’t stand it anymore, his natural urge to protect your safety, has him wrapping you in his arms. You still smell like his bed, like him, like love making left unfinished. Your arms remain clutched to your chest. No reaction.

He says it out loud, unknowing if he means it to you or just to himself. “We should’ve never started having sex.”

A mistake. You’re his mistake. Not his biggest. Not even a real regret.

Steve Harrington has only ever loved one girl. He’s only ever regretted one loss. He even cared more for Robin before he even went to you. Are you even pretty enough, or does he just like you because you’re friends and he’s horny, or searching for something? You’re not it, not even a morsel.

And it doesn’t matter what you say, what you do, how you feel. You’ll be stuck with that, while Steve clings to whatever he truly wants. Now you’ve lost what you’ve built with him, destroyed his safe place by becoming a cliche. He doesn’t deserve your one sided feelings.

The wheels are spinning in your head, but Steve still sees nothing in your responses, nor your reception. So he lifts his keys from his pocket to respect your wishes, his chest on fire with an acidic inferno, his head clouded with pain far worse than anything he’s ever experienced, his skull echoing with what his brain has just endured. You walk to his car without sparing a glance, feet still bare. He swallows and it just feels like piles of broken glass. He can do nothing but do what you asked of him.

He drives you to your house in silence. Steve Harrington has been sure of one thing in two years, and that’s always been you. But as he pulls up to your house, you’re climbing from his car before he can put it in park, your voice hauntingly, desperately hollow. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

And you leave him, the levee going to break once you’re through your front door, pain in between your legs to remind you the next morning before your mind does. His nose crinkles, his fingers pinching, a thin line of snot trailing out. Steve wants to say to you that it’s him who has ruined it all. That he’s so scared of those words, that he doesn’t understand how someone could love him, so he can’t let your words sink in, can’t consciously reciprocate. A coward who won’t let himself feel your declaration.

Steve Harrington’s brain, however, knows the truth.

~*~

Waking up the next morning had been a reality that neither you, nor Steve were prepared to handle. You pretty much cried yourself to sleep, whilst Steve held onto your purse and paced his floor until his feet verged on rug burn, tears blurring his vision. When he finally did lay down, his alarm went off two hours later. He woke to your scent all over his bed, still covering him, lingering even as he showered, especially in his car on the way to the store. The same car that things have happened in, and the very one that he dumped you off like trash last night, after what you’d gone through to tell him the extent of your feelings. He wasn’t functioning on a full level from the second he pulled into the parking lot.

~*~

You could still feel him, your body sore, brain picking up seconds after you opened your eyes, toes hitting the blush rug underneath your bed. Your sclera was bloodshot, burning, clouding over as you passed by pictures of you with Steve, and quite a few you’d taken of him solo, that you had on the corkboard above your desk. You’d deal with taking everything down later, unsure what you would be doing with the items. Forgoing breakfast was a given, your stomach in knots. Showering went painfully fast, leading you right into putting on your work uniform.

You barely made it three hours into your shift, headache, heartache going head to head, and your boss had noticed your discomfort, gently releasing you for the day. Only one person made everything better, but that was no longer an option. Your confession sets you free, backfiring what type of freedom you wanted to occur. It was eleven o’clock when you dock yourself into Family Video’s parking lot, relieved Steve was on his normal lunch hour. Even if you can spend time with Robin, it will help.

You can hurry, you don’t have to see his face.

Fate has other plans.

You’re helping Robin unpack some candy shipments when his car pulls in about half an hour early. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, so that’s why she’d assumed you didn’t want a male presence around. You’re honestly shocked she hasn’t clocked Steve as the mystery man she’s known about the past two years.

“Don’t worry,” she says, upon seeing your soured, slightly fearful expression. “It’s just our doofus. He’s been in a brooding mood today, probably why he’s back early.”

A mood? So you have ruined it all.

You nod, forcing yourself to stay put, immediately gaining on deep breathing. At least you don’t shake when you begin to alphabetize the candy. You can hear her greet Steve before he even gets a word in. She snatches some kind of paper bag, that you assume he brought back for her — away, rifling through its contents as she speaks.

“Dingus, you still have that bottle of Tylenol in your car?”

Steve’s heart is in his throat, wrapping him tighter than Vecna’s hive minds did. He gives a silent yes, head trying to lean around a few shelves. Fuck. Of course that was your car out front, he wasn’t just imagining shit. He’s hopeful, anxious. What are you here for? Who?

“Good. Can you go get it, please? She doesn’t feel good and she’s been helping me all morning.”

Immediate worry doesn’t cover it. You’re here and not at work, and you’re sick? Steve snaps out of what trance he’s in, eyes pinching closed and he nods rapidly. “Shit, yeah. I’ll go get it. Here, Robs. Can you take my water to her?” He hands off his half drank bottle without question, moving back outside to get the medicine.

It’s funny, the look on your face as Robin presents you with his drink. You all share off of one another all the time. She places the food bag beside her, to which you politely decline her offer for some. Doesn’t matter if you haven’t eaten, you can’t.

“I know he has cooties, but I think we’re safe.” She shoulder bumps you, trying to get a smile. When you barely lift your mouth, she goes into her version of mom mode. It dawns on her and it comes from her mouth without tact.

“Wait, is this about that mystery guy who took your virginity? The one you’ve been seeing for two years? Holy shit, did he finally commit?”

If Robin couldn’t tell how you felt about Steve, or see anything from his part, then you guess it’s true.

There’s nothing to see.

You can feel your rib cage gape open, heart falling into your ass, strangled by your intestines.

Luckily, Steve has perfect timing, appearing right in earshot as Robin reveals information you never told him. The room feels small, you feel as if you could melt into the floor, non-existent. Would it matter? You are starting to think love controls everything, after all. You’re fucking doomed.

He lets his Nikes carry him forward, bottle of Tylenol in his massive hand. He’s starting to tremble, betrayal etched into his mouth, giving away what Robin now feels stupid for not knowing. It all clicks when your moods are matched, your mixed reactions combining.

“Oh. Oh, holy fuck. I’m…” She looks at her best-friend, who is halfway seething to near sobbing, and at you, who cannot look her in the eyes. “Shit, I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? Fuck. I’ll give you two a minute —“

“Steve?” Your voice is tinged with something, one that has him slightly elated that you’re vocal, and even more pissed at you. He waits, his tongue caught in his throat, about to ask you, but you’re adding on. “May I have two Tylenols please?” Standing on your feet right after.

He’s like a fucking statue, on autopilot, unmoving this time. Robin rises, plucks the bottle gently, shaking out two and drops them into your hand, handing the container back to Steve, ultimately giving his water to you. She mouths an apology, but you’re smiling a tacky, forced grin that looks as if it’s pinching your lips. She’s bound to be upset you both neglected to tell her. Keeping your mouth shut should’ve been the reverse way.

“I’ll call you tonight, Robs. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Hey.” She stops you before you can step back to leave, wrapping her arms around you, maroon coated lips by your ear. “I don’t have a foot fetish, but I really should’ve kept the entirety of my own in there to avoid this.”

That gets you laughing softly, and you don’t look at Steve as you depart from her arms and for your car. He’s still frozen.

Robin does, though, stares right through him. She can see how much he’s hurting. She doesn’t want to judge either side, so she simply reaches up to rub along between his shoulder blades. “If you need to —“

“I’ll be right back.” His eyes are trained on your retreating form, handing her the pills as he follows you.

“That works too!” She points a finger in his direction, sighing. Is everyone else onto this, or is she just off her game?

~*~

You’ve just barely downed the pills, tasting Steve’s cinnamon breath spray, combined with his morning coffee all around the lid of his water. You chug it fast, your back still turned to the front door. That’s when the dumbass little bell rings, slapping back against the door, and his voice comes into play.

“You can taste my mouth on that, right?”

You remain non-verbal. This angers him to the point he steps close enough that you can smell his cologne and aftershave. His tone shatters, emotion bleeding through. “Because friends share things with one another.”

“Well, friends sure as hell don’t fuck!” It snaps free of your mouth, shocking the both of you, plastic crinkling in your hands. Your head is hurting, between your thighs is aching, and you’re positive that a piece of your chest has been carved out.

He’ll always have that, whether he wants it or not.

“They don’t lie about being a virgin, either! They don’t say that it’s been a while when they’re in pain and I’m fucking asking what’s wrong the first time that we have sex! If I would have known, then it would’ve been—”

“Wouldn’t have happened, so I didn’t build some little attachment to you, right?”

Steve visibly recoils.

“Is that really what you thought of me? That I was still that big of an asshole? Because we were already pretty attached. I did everything with you, you practically lived at my house.”

“If you didn’t have a date. Maybe it was just sex, me and you. Still doesn’t answer if you found me attractive. Probably just biased because you were my friend.” Word vomit. Too late to stop now.

Steve mulls over the meaning of were. Past tense? Does it apply to current?

His hands go onto his hips, a sidestep, and he turns back to look at you in astonishment, having to swipe aggressively at the wetness in his eyes. He doesn’t even know where to begin with everything you just said. His brain is screaming to tell you that no, he’s always found you fucking beautiful. That he would have preferred you over all of those dates, or any that he’s ever had for that matter. But he’s so confused about letting anything in, his tongue becomes tied, only able to get out one lame question. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

When your gaze flickers up, you see he’s snarling, but there’s tears clouding his vision. You’re a little lighter in how you speak to him, dismantling your armor. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was a loser, I didn’t want our first time to be about that, I didn’t think you would want to… I didn’t mean to — I’m sorry, Steve.”

He marvels. You really thought that? Did he not express his care for you?

“I would’ve made it better for you. Fuck, were you even okay after it happened?”

His moral compass is extraordinary nowadays, and it does make you hesitant, but you let your fingers cup his cheek. “It was the best. You were the best. I wanted it to happen with you. And it’s something that I would never take back.”

Your teeth start to chatter, your own tears forming. You want to console further, to wipe away his. But you start to let your hand slip. Steve catches it, holding your fingers in his palm, wrapping his digits around to lace. His deep voice drags along each syllable, crooked and wet with emotion. “Please let me hold you before you leave?”

And god, do you want to. You’ve never needed anything more. But if you let him… You just refuse to put yourself into that place right now. You shake your head, replacing your hand with his water bottle. His tongue pokes at his cheek, he shakes his head, attempting to argue. He closes his fist around the plastic.

“I meant what I said last night. And I realize that I ruined everything, Steve.” He can’t speak, why isn’t he able to disagree, why is it like he’s drowning, running in slow motion?

“I just don’t know if it can be repaired.” By the time you slide into your car, hand over your face, arm propped to your steering wheel, body heavy into your seat, Steve finds himself worked up to the point that he can’t bear to be around you, he can’t watch this, his figure pivoting, and he returns straight into the store, booking it to the break room.

~*~

After you’ve cried for what feels like forever, embarrassing yourself, light headed with guilt, you don’t end up driving yourself home, unable to do it in this state. You make your way to a pay phone to call Nancy. How fucking ironic. What’s worse, is that she can’t make it, you find out, as Jonathan Byers pulls up in her station wagon, letting you know that she’s sorry, but she got a call back to her job. You assure him it’s fine, grateful another friend is here, at least, joining him.

He doesn’t press you. But he knows. He’s one of them that pegged it from the start, he and Nance both.

“You okay?” Is his gruff question.

“Yeah, I just have to go home.”

He says nothing else. But what neither of you see, is Steve Harrington, as he’s just getting to the doorway, regretting his decision to not go back once he realized you didn’t leave, unable to stand you being that upset and not trying to do something (if he could) — watching the affection Jonathan Byers extends your way, and your rejection of any reluctance to accept it. His amber eyes are smoldering, his fist clenched, every muscle rigid, heart rate firing off rapid shots.

“Steve…” Robin tries, folding in beside him, seeing his dismissal of logic, his brain switching, latching onto primal panic. “You’re at work, remember? Video tapes, acne covered boss?”

But he’s throwing off his vest in response and striding towards his car, ignoring her pleas.

[catientie]

TALK TALK ft. mizuki akiyama

pairing, mizuki akiyama x fem! reader writing, 1st person perspective of the reader notes, MIZUKI5 SOBS LIKE A CHILD HOLY SHIT. this is supposed to be a remake of an old mizuki fic that i did on my old acc, kudos if you remembered lol.

“Hi, it’s Mizuki! Can’t come to the phone obviously! So why would you leave a message right after the beep, won’t ya?”

Time passed away 5 years ago. Emphasis on the years part.

Being all organised and sharp downgraded massively by the time university decided to arrive. No more continuing to be something you’re clearly not, Mizuki once stated when we faced high school. Truth is, the act of perfection struck directly through my heart when we were so young to even be perfect. I was pretending to be something I’m clearly not.

We turned out to be grown now, we’ve grown ourselves out of boredom so much that we drifted. Drifted out and off everyone around us. And it pains and strikes faithfully; the pain almost tasted like pure yet scruffed blood which still dare ran with our veins. Veins that yet attached us truthfully.

And it still hurts so badly.

Between us, the awkward smiles and conversations lingered us both in the tongue, with forced laughter and childish gestures reawakened our once intertwined souls endlessly.

Too bad we couldn’t be those kids again.

Even the sound of their name never failed to shred tears behind fake eyes, recalling back to the times where linking arms were often and normalised, giving fashion guidance by yours truly and sharing an ice cream cone with the boiling summer — that was the ideal dream.

We grew up to be two different people together, we discovered. Different views of the world, different reactions to everything and everyone, different ways to approach the said people.

Maybe we were just not meant to be.

The back of your throat felt like nails scratching against a classroom blackboard and a murder being discovered in a blender together; nothing but a pure, graphic mess. Maybe the scream was so overbearing that the sound of it felt like you really were stabbing by a knife. Screaming rose to grasping your neck rapidly. Air, you need it, but you don’t want it, you need Mizuki badly.

You never heard of her ever again after the festival in Kamiyama. The rooftop up there permanently became closed and Ena was petrified. Trust me, we all were.

Did you ever blamed yourself for Mizuki’s disappearance? That’s a good question, a question that the next life could only answer.

CATIENTIE. any acts of plagiarism, tracing or translation is strictly prohibited on any other platforms.

[babybatscreationsv2]

The Old One

Marvel | Starker

The Old One demands that fathers raise their sons to be obedient and pure. They must be unquestioning and loyal. The methods of raising the Old One are unorthodox in today's world and so the boy's cannot know what fate awaits them. So, of course, now that Peter Parker has grown into a boy of absolute faith, he is finally ready to help the Fathers plant the seed which raises the Old One.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings and tags below

Warnings/tags: underage, incest, romnoncon, gangbang, drugged sex, bondage, abandonment play, bondage, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, cum play, first time, cult au, religious elements, brainwashing

Peter was a star among the other boys. He so rarely questioned the leadership and when he did, his questions were only delightful.

"When will it be my turn to wake the Old One?" He looked at his father with disappointment in his big eyes. They stood together with the others to witness as Norman took Harry's hand and led him into the sacred chamber.

Tony patted his son's sweet head. "Soon, I'm sure. You've been perfect, Peter. I know the Old One sees you."

Peter frowned. "You keep saying that."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Do you doubt it?"

Peter sighed. "No, sir. I just... I'm just ready for it to be my turn."

"Soon. Just be patient." He bent and kissed his son's forehead. Then he followed the other fathers into the chamber. Peter took a deep breath and wiped the pout from his lips. Then he joined the other boys as they formed a circle. They all began to chant the secret words taught them by their fathers.

Another month passed and the new moon came again. Peter was all but vibrating with anticipation. It had to be his turn. It just had to be. He'd been nothing but obedient ever since his father allowed him to join the temple. Maybe the Old One didn't think he was enough.

All of the boys lined up in a row with their heads bowed and their eyes closed. Their fathers stood in front of them, sending their prayers to the Old One. Peter said his silently. It seemed to go on forever. Then a warm hand touched the back of his neck.

He wanted to jump up and run through the door, into the sacred chamber, but he did his best to behave himself. He rose gracefully from the floor and opened his eyes, head still bowed. Until his father gently raised his chin.

"Peter, you've been chosen, my son," Tony declared.

The boys all began to chant his name. They started at a whisper, but grew louder as Peter took his father's hand and let him lead the way into the chamber.

Their voices were silenced as the heavy door shut. They stood together in a narrow corridor of cold stone.

"We call this the Father's Embrace," Tony said softly. "We'll pass through here and into The Garden. Once we enter the garden, you must do exactly as you're told. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Peter nodded. He struggled to imagine what would happen now. Would it hurt? Would it be scary or challenging? The boys who were chosen weren't allowed to speak about it.

"No matter, the ritual must continue exactly the way it's been done since the beginning. No one has ever failed to wake the Old One." Tony turned to face him. He placed both of his hands on his shoulders. "You won't be the first to fail, I promise you. You're the perfect sacrifice. I'm so proud of you, Peter."

Overcome with emotion, Tony squeezed him in a tight hug. Peter trembled in his arms. He imagined that it was only the nearby presence of the sleeping god that made him shake so much. His tiny human form just couldn't take it.

They held hands again and walked through the Embrace. Tony pushed open the door on the other side and then entered the next room.

The chamber was a massive cave. Stones glittered inside the walls, but Peter couldn't make out exactly what was reflecting the light. Lit torches lined the walls, with four more at the center of the room on top of a platform. Water trickled in a small waterfall across from the door. The air felt crisp and refreshing.

"It's beautiful," Peter whispered.

Tony smiled. "Come." They walked together across the stone floor and up the steps of the platform. At the center of it was a stone table covered in a red cloth. A glass bottle sat beside a since goblet. Peter's heart raced.

"Pick up the goblet," Tony ordered.

Peter picked it up with both hands, afraid to drop such an important thing. Tony picked up the bottle and opened it. He recited a prayer in the old language. Then he tipped the bottle until the goblet was full.

"Take a drink."

Peter brought the goblet to his mouth. He tipped it back and took a long drink. The liquid felt warm despite all reasoning that it shouldn't. It warmed his mouth, his throat, his belly. Then it continued to spread and everywhere it spread began to tingle.

"Good," his father said. His hands covered Peter's on the goblet. He took it for himself and took a small sip. Peter wondered if he'd done it wrong, but surely his father would have stopped him from taking too much. He wouldn't let him fail.

Tony set the goblet down and took Peter's hand again. Together they knelt as Tony recited a prayer. Peter's mind began to feel hazy. He felt good. Too good. So good that it was scary. He wanted to laugh, but he couldn't interrupt his father's prayer. But he had to let the good feeling out or he thought for sure it would kill him. It only seemed to grow bigger and bigger. He didn't realize he was whimpering until Tony looked at him.

He gave him a soft, encouraging smile. Then he turned and pulled Peter to face him. He held his face in both of his hands. Then he kissed him on the mouth. Peter only whimpered some more. That felt good, too. So good that his whole body felt like it was throbbing. Something was wrong with him, but he had to trust it was the will of the Old One, he had to trust his father. There was nothing else to do.

Tony pulled him up to his feet. "Close your eyes," he whispered.

Peter did as he was told. His father untied the belt around his waist. Then he slid his robe from his shoulders. Underneath he was wearing the thin, white ritual gown and underwear that all the boys wore. Tony took those off, too.

"Open your eyes."

Peter looked. Tony had set his robe aside but gathered his underclothes into a bundle. He handed them to Peter.

Tony went to one of the torches and grabbed the brazier from the top. He lifted it down and carried it back to the center. He nodded his head and began to pray again. Peter knew what to do. He dropped the garments into the brazier and watched them burn.

His immodesty didn't bother him. His father had always told him that such things weren't shameful to the followers of the Old One. Only lesser humans worried about such things. Still it felt strange to cast his own clothes into the fire.

Tony returned the brazier to the top of the torch and joined him again. He walked around behind him and placed his hands on his shoulders. That's when the door opened.

The other fathers entered the Garden. They marched in a line up to the platform and formed a circle around the dias. Mr. Barnes stepped out of the circle. He picked up the goblet and took a small sip, then passed it to Mr. Rogers. He took a sip and passed it along. They continued until the goblet reached Mr. Osborn, at the end, who stepped forward and passed the goblet back to Tony.

He held it in front of Peter. It was nearly empty, but there was still liquid left. Tony tilted Peter's head back and raised the cup.

"Open," he said. Peter obediently opened his mouth. His father slowly poured the drink into his mouth. He swallowed it down in heavy gulps. There was much more than he'd thought. When the cup was finally empty, Peter gasped for breath. He could feel the hazy pleasure growing again. He'd thought he knew what the peak of it was, but now it was so much worse. Just the touch of the cool air on his skin made him tingle. Especially where it touched his nipples and his cock. He was hard, too. He wondered if he should be embarrassed. His father told him never to touch himself for pleasure, but not to be ashamed of it either. Surely, this was what the Old One wanted of him.

"You're doing well," his father praised. Even that felt too good as if he had placed a kiss somewhere deep inside his body. "Turn around now."

Peter turned, but he wobbled a bit as he did. It was strange, but his father seemed to look different. Not that he hadn't always been handsome, but now it seemed more. He was perfectly beautiful in a way no person ever had been. Peter ached with a craving he didn't understand. All he knew was that he wanted his father to touch him.

He sighed when his fathers hands held his face once again. He leaned down and kissed him and Peter moaned. When his lips parted, his father's tongue slipped between them, just the tiniest bit. It felt incredible. So Peter tried it, too. His father made a soft noise and Peter thought that must mean he was going good.

Everyone was whispering in the old language again. It sounded different now though. He didn't understand the words but somehow he knew what they meant. He stopped and looked into his father's eyes. Then he knelt down on the stones. His hands moved as if puppeted by strings. He untied his father's robe. He admired his strong body as his eyes slid down to the bulge in his cotton pants. Peter pulled them down. His father's cock sprung out, massive and erect.

Peter's mouth watered. He wanted to taste it, but he didn't understand why and he didn't know if he should. He looked up at his father who stared at him with dark eyes and wet lips.

"That's a good boy," he murmured. His hand touched Peter's hair. "Open your mouth."

Peter did as he was told. With one hand, his father took his cock and bent it forward. It brushed against his lips and Peter shivered. He stuck his tongue out without thinking. The taste made him moan. Then his father put the tip in his mouth. Instinctively, Peter closed his lips and sucked. The taste was a amazing, the sensation burned and tingled all through his mouth. He wanted more in his mouth so he leaned in until he was full.

Tony moaned. For a moment he let Peter enjoy the fullness in his mouth, then slowly pulled out. Peter whined and followed him until Tony grabbed his hair to stop him. Peter stilled. He let his father do what he needed. Of course, he should know to always trust his father. It felt so much better as he moved his cock in and out of his mouth. The friction felt amazing. Peter couldn't help the way he moaned around his cock.

Above him, Tony panted. He tugged Peter's hair to get his attention. "I'm going to release my seed into your mouth. You will swallow it, understand?"

Peter hummed his agreement, mouth still full of cock. He wasn't sure what that meant, but everything felt so good. Surely this would, too. He was right to trust because only a moment later, Tony started to rut into his mouth faster. The tip of his cock hit the back of his throat over and over, but Peter never choked. He moaned in pleasure, eyes rolling back in his head as his father brutalized his mouth. Then finally he stopped moving. He moaned loudly. His hands gripped Peter's head, forcing him to stay where he wanted him. Something thick and salty filled his mouth. Peter swallowed it down, sucking for more. His father's legs trembled. Then he pushed Peter back with a gasp.

Peter looked up at him, equally amazed and confused. He didn't know what that was. He wasn't sure if he'd done it right. Tony's face was red and his skin was shiny with sweat.

"That was perfect, Peter. You did perfect," he said.

Peter smiled. He felt so tingly and hazy. He watched his father wrap his hand around his cock and begin to stroke it. It grew hard and thick again. Peter licked his lips. Was he going to give him more?

Tony chuckled. "There's more for you, be patient."

The whispered words drifted off. The circle moved in around him. They opened their belts and lowered their pants. Just like his own father, all the others were hard. They all watched him with anticipation. That same compulsion came over him to fill his mouth. So he opened wide. Bucky stuffed his mouth just like his father had. Peter moaned and closed his eyes. He stayed still for him like he was taught.

Bucky was rough with his mouth. He gripped his hair in one hand and used it to pull him up and down on his cock. With nothing to do but sitting obediently, Peter realized his own cock was throbbing as his mouth was used to pleasure all the others. He could feel it leaking something. At first he thought it was pee, but it was sticky just like the seed his father had given him. Did he have his own seed? He wanted to touch, but he knew he wasn't allowed and he would never disobey.

"Such a good boy," Bucky growled above him. "You know how to please your daddies don't you, sweetheart?"

Peter hummed happily as Bucky praised him. He didn't give any warning beyond a deep growling moan before he gave Peter his seed, too. Then another cock was in his mouth. Steve, he was pretty sure. He wasn't as rough, but he was fast. So fast that Peter could barely suck in a breath between thrusts. The lack of air made him feel dizzy, but it only added to his pleasure. His cock was really aching now and oddly so were his nipples. He had the strangest desire for someone to touch them, even suck on them. He'd never even considered such a thing. But he'd never considered putting someone elses cock in his mouth before either.

Steve released right down his throat. Peter felt it settle in his belly with the rest. His mouth was empty for the briefest second. Then all at once he was full again. His mind floated as they each had a turn using his mouth and filling him with seed.

"You're doing so well," Tony praised. He smiled at his son. Peter looked up at him through hazy eyes.

They picked him up and carried him over to the dias. Someone must have set the bottle and goblet elsewhere. He laid on his back with his head hanging off on side and his legs hanging off the other. Someone bent his knees and pushed apart his thighs. Pleasure tingled up his spine. This position alone felt good, but he felt that his body wanted to be full again. In a different way now. He didn't understand it. Then his father pushed the tip of his cock against his anus and he understood.

He moaned as Tony's cock entered his body. He shivered, overwhelmed with pleasure. It built higher and higher still. Shrill whining fell from his lips. Someone took both of his wrists and pinned them at his sides. He didn't understand why until he felt compelled to touch his cock. He needed to he had to he'd die if he didn't, he was sure. He sobbed, tears and pleasure and fear rolled down his cheeks.

"Let go, Peter. Daddy's got you," Tony said. He didn't understand he didn't know what was happening but he tried. He tried to find the tension that was building. His father's cock filled him until it ached, but with the satisfaction of being completely stretched. He found it then and he let it go.

Pleasure so indescribable took him over. He screamed. He felt like he was exploding. His eyes were open, but his vision was white. Every muscle in his body seemed to spasm. And it kept going, the most overwhelming pleasure. Only once he was shaking and sweating did it fade, but not entirely. Where his father fucked his ass, the pleasure was still too much. All he could do was cry and whimper.

Someone filled his mouth with cock again. He suckled desperately as if he would find relief somewhere inside. He was still held down, only able to squirm. Hands touched his body everywhere. His chest, his belly, his aching nipples. All he could think was how good he felt. Then he felt the stickiness of the seed filling up his hole. His father pulled himself out, but there was no relief as someone else stuffed his ass again.

That consuming pleasure built again, growing bigger and bigger as he was stuffed full and ripping him apart as he screamed. He sobbed and struggled, but the fathers held him down. Whoever filled his mouth pulled their cock free with a groaned swear. Sticky seed splattered on his lips and cheeks. He lapped up what he could reach, then another cock filled him up again.

The cycle continued seemingly without end. He could never tell who was in what hold. He could only guess from the sounds they made. One by one they made him burst. After the third, Peter realized that his belly was covered in his own seed. Some of it had splattered all the way up to his chest and onto his thighs. There wasn't much of anywhere that wasn't sticky and wet.

They dumped their seed inside him and all over his face. It dripped down from his chin to his forehead. It was sticky in his eyelashes now. He couldn't even open his eyes.

Eventually it stopped.

He was exhausted. Despite it all, he still felt hazy and good. He still wanted to be touched more. He still craved cock and fullness and cum, as he heard someone call it. Eyes still glued shut, he didn't know what they stuffed in his mouth. It filled his mouth completely, even more than their cocks had, and they strapped it around his head to hold it in place.

Straps went around his body, too. They bound his arms to his sides. He wiggled just a little to test how much he could move them. Even without them to hold him down, he still couldn't reach his cock despite how badly he wanted to touch it. They stuffed something into his ass as well. It was so big. Too big. Much bigger than any of their cocks. It stretched him out so much that the pleasure made his legs shake. He moaned around the gag in his mouth. Unlike with their cocks, the pleasure didn't explode instantly, but he could feel it building slowly. It scared him how powerful it was. He wished he could beg them to stop, but his mouth was too full.

Instead, they bound his legs together at the knees and ankles. This pushed the toy just a little bit deeper. A familiar hand touched his shoulder, possibly the only clean spot on his entire body.

"Your pleasure gives the Old One power," his father said. "His followers will be blessed in equal measure. You must be obedient and unafraid. And you must never fight the pleasure of your body. Not tonight."

Something was placed on his chest and strapped in place. It vibrated against his nipples. He couldn't understand what was being said anymore. There was only pleasure.

"Now, the seed must be buried for the Old One to rise," Steve declared.

"When the Old One returns at dawn, you will be released," Bucky said.

They picked him up again along with the red cloth beneath him. Something made a dragging and scraping noise. Vaguely he thought they were putting him inside something. It was just big enough for his body so that the top of his head touched one end and his feet touched the other. Another strap attached him to the box leaving him even less room to move. Someone touched the thing inside his hole and it started to move.

It grew longer, then shorter, as if a massive cock were fucking him. It went so much deeper than his fathers had. He could feel it in his belly. Someone kissed his forehead.

"Goodnight, Pete. Make daddy proud," Tony said. Peter couldn't answer. He wasn't a person anymore, he was a thing made of nerve endings and pleasure and pain.

There was that same scraping noise. Then there was no more light. He felt weightless for a while as though being carried. Then he heard something hit the top of the box he was in. He thought, in perhaps his last moment of clarity for a very long time, that they were burying him alive.

Completely restrained and helpless, all he could do was squirm as he was fucked and vibrated. The things they'd strapped to his body never stopped. They didn't need to. No matter how many times he came, all he could do was scream as the toys continued to force the next one out of him. There were no thoughts in his mind. Even his sense of identity melted away. He was nothing but sensation.

Until the sun rose and it all stopped at once. The toys stopped moving, but he remained bound. Finally, he fell asleep knowing only the desperate desire to be the Old One's sacrifice again.

[blackjackkent]

The explorations of Moonrise's fleshy basement dead-end at an enormous elevator leading even deeper.

The cavern beyond is dark, but Rakha can dimly discern the twitching tentacles of countless illithid ships, all humming with contained energy.

"A whole fleet of nautiloids," she mutters. "How many 'True Souls' have passed through this place...?"

The elevator is like one that Rakha encountered on the nautiloid. The control panel opens to her tadpole's command - to her authority, and the platform begins to descend slowly into the darkness below.

Ahead of them she can see an enormous, sickly green pool like those they saw before. Brining pools, the guardian called them. Several massive structures are scattered through the churning water; some shines like metal and some like flesh.

Gods, her head hurts. The tadpole writhes and shudders, gnawing excitedly deeper into its nest in her brain. The beast growls a low, constant drone of directionless fury. With each revelation about her past - her time spent here, her power and her betrayal, the pain she inflicted and the pain she received - it has seemed to grow stronger.

It has learned it had control once. It wants it again.

"Is anyone else's tadpole squirming around a lot more than usual?" she asks in a low voice.

Lae'zel nods once, curtly. "Something's roused them," she mutters. "Something significant."

The elevator shudders to a halt on the level of the enormous pool. They are suddenly beset by a tremendous smell of raw and rotting meat; there are piled corpses all along the pathway ahead, leading to a heavy flesh door. The air has grown thick, humid and muggy; Rakha feels sweat start to pool at the base of her spine and drip down the back of her neck.

"Every other path, we've seen nothing," she says hoarsely. "Ketheric is here. He must be."

"Then let us move forward and finish him," Minthara growls. "Lest he escape our grasp yet again."

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

 Garnets AU In large hands

[This may not make sense I realized outside of being tied to my story Garnets I'm sorry.]

Waking Up Safe:

It was a deeper breath under her that really woke Lily up. Feeling herself rise and lower for a while, and was just now awake enough to realize that it was not waves. There were no rocking like it would be on the water with waves. A lifetime so far on and around the seas had some instinct of what was the right and wrong movements. 

The young woman struggled to wake up, but Lily's body felt heavy and trapped. Her mind fogged a bit more than when she had her tooth pulled. The heavy feeling was not so much as feeling as she woke up more. It was a real weight that was pressing down on and curling around her.

Her right arm and shoulder were wrapped up, and though there was a pulsing, the pain should have been greater. Lily was just able to get her left arm free as her eyes opened. 

It was dark in this place, and surprisingly quiet. All the ever present background sounds and vibrations that came with living on the sea platform were missing.

Lily was lifted with a different sound, rising and falling slowly not with a rocking wave, but a deep... breath…?

Her left hand reached carefully to feel over the closest thing over top and curled around to help keep her right arm firmly pinned. She realized it was the edge of hand at the same time that the rising and falling was breathing under her.

For a moment, Lily paled and gave a faint whine. Had her mother finally gotten a hold of her?

Memories were slow to come, and mixed together. Lily thought she had been quick to get onto the ship that was automatically pulled in and docked. She had been trying to get some new supplies before what used to be her mother woke up and thought Lily was trying to run away.

The massive hand shifted overtop of Lily, as if in response to the small sound.

It was as a large thumb that shifted to rub against her left shoulder and head. Lily was startled to realize the large, left hand over her was both not missing the ring finger, nor was it feminine.

The giant demigod took a much deeper breath under Lily, holding it for a second and then a long sigh came out. He was awake from his doze and very aware of the smaller human. He had to be very careful not to close his hand, but the human was pretty stuck. Thankfully she was not really panicking despite being a tense noodle.

The Slayer flexed his core, shifting his hold just a moment. Hearing Lily's startled squeak as he sat up and she was pressed against his front. He gave a deep rumble as the Slayer lifted his other hand up under the smaller human. Being very,  very gentle to not hurt as she was side into a bit more of a sitting position.

He felt the younger human shiver as his covering hand lifted, at first thinking he had hurt her. Or caught her smaller arms between his fingers. The demigod realized that the blanket originally given was now in his lap. As much heat as he produced, keeping up a forced cuddle likely not good for Lily's mind.

But she was just sitting so… still in his hands.

The Slayer wondered if it was a belated shock, remembering the surprising massive serpent demon that was trying to rip his arms apart. Not to get at his chest like normal, but at the human clinging to his neck, barely bracing on to the top edge of his chest plate. At least before he had the moment to push her down under the thick chestplate of armor after she almost fell off him to the deep sea below the platform.

One large finger gently, oh so very carefully touched her back and rubbed over the spine. She did not flinch but a small gasp came out, then started to move. Careful, bracing again the green covered wall of muscle and the... heel of the hand under her.

She finally looked up at the scarred face. Staring intently before shifting in reaction of being stared back at with a gaze as human as it was inhuman. The eerie blue was not husky blue but seemed to glow from within.

The Demigod hummed, it was a bit broken at first. Or just tuneless as he rubbed the pad of a finger over the small back. Trying to be reassuring to the still human. Thankfully she was not screaming or panicking, but the almost learned passively was somehow worse. He remembered the struggling she had done, but only for a minute when trapped between his pectoral muscles.

This was almost that same exhausted sort of stillness. Like the small human had just given up at last. Surrendering to the new chaos she was in, sitting still against the new giant. Barely reacting as the massive hand curled around her again.

Not quite sure what to do, the Slayer just sat like that. Holding the young human against himself, that broken humming a clumsy attempt to reassure. He was not really sure what to do other than to cup his hands around the smaller human in an attempt to reassure.

"Hmm?" The Slayer offered a small sound, shifting his hold on the human as he looked around the large room he was in. Lifting her, the Demigod gave the startled human a small nuzzle like cuddle, please that got a yip before he got up. A startled reaction but still a reaction that was not numbed. 

Carrying her to the other side of his room, to where his old aids would sleep and live. Carefully lowering his hands for her to slide off to the 'desktop' that was at his scale.

"Oh shite," the human blurted, fumbled and after a moment pulled herself upright, looking around. Seeing the size difference of a few things in the massive room. Actually looking and seeing what she looked at as the giant was moving to pull a stool out from under the… desk she was on. How there was a smaller desk to the back left of it's top, and what looked like stairs.

It really was like a bedroom just scaled up to fit the giant man and incorporated someone human sized around him.

That made her pause as the Slayer was poking around at the assorted boxes on the right hand side of the desk. Then the eerie blue eyes were back on her.

Lily swallowed but reflexively held still where she was sitting on her knees like she did with her changed mother. She gasped as a large hand came around her again, making the young woman whine as her right shoulder had pressure put on it, not really understanding why it was hurting so much. But there was no resisting the massive hand as it mostly closed around and under her. Lifting her off the desktop to move closer between his arms.

It was so surreal, and frightening in a way as Lily realized that she was about the size of a large doll to him. 

…but the massive hands, though solid like metal, and so clearly strong from her memory. They did not hurt her. The skin was thick with calculuses, and almost a spider web like network of scarring, and just thick skin. Yet as her left arm was lifted by a fingertip, he did not… break her.

"...are you real?" Lily finally asked as her arms were finished being inspected. There was a hazy memory coming back, but she could not tell if she was being held underwater by one of these large, armored hands or being fished out of the sea. A lot of the time with and in the storm was just a chaotic mess that washed out.

The giant nodded, pulling his hands away from her at last, gripping the edges of the desk before relaxing. He looked so oddly confused despite the hard seeming face. Then he signed something.

It took Lily a moment to really realize it was sign language. She was not so rusty to not remember the words, as up until the demonic apocalypse, her crew activity used it in the platform to communicate with each other when someone was in the water to those in a sub or inside the platform itself.

"My name is Lily, not flower." Lily said automatically as she watched him. Then winced as she was fully focused on again with a surprised sound that came from the giant.

It was a subtle shift from him but a larger movement from her perspective as the giant turned fully back to Lily. Was this what it was like for her cats? Sure felt like it.

Lily tilted her head despite herself, watching the quick motions of the impossibly large hands. She blinked and frowned, "Um..slow down, please? It's hard to keep track of what… you're saying."

The fact that he was 'speaking' in sign language suddenly hit the young woman like a flood of bricks.

The giant knew ASL?

It almost looked like he started to sign a curse before aborting it halfway through.

Something clicked, and the big thing, person, not so monstrous giant in front of her, was oddly more… human. He was not altered like her mother?

[filmtv2022]

By Your Side: Epilogue Part Two

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Summary: Rhett & Y/N navigate the next steps of their relationship, and for the first time they are truly able to envision what life away from the horrors of the past could look like.

Warnings: Smut + some language + minimal description of wounds

A/N: Well... this is it for the story folks (at least for now... who knows what will happen if/when we get a second season), and what a ride it's been! I truly cannot believe how wonderful this process has felt. When I started this story I had no idea what this would end up meaning to me. I have learned so much about myself as a writer and creative during this journey, and that is amazing. But beyond that, I have had the opportunity to get to know some wonderful humans on this platform as well! A massive thanks to all who have enjoyed (and hopefully will continue to enjoy) this story.

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Rhett’s breath hitched as the sweet, flirtiness of the moment turned into something more. Trailing his hands down your body, he guided you back against the counter, the movement was a tad rougher than intended causing you to bump harshly on the hard surface. The sudden force bit into the healing wound that adorned your back, sending a burst of pain shooting over the expanse of your muscles and stealing the breath from your lungs. Hearing your agonized gasp, Rhett immediately loosened his hold on you, allowing him to scan over your frame. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What hurts?”

Unable to speak, you breathed in through your nose. Your hand snaking behind your back to put consistent and even pressure on the tender spot. Understanding struck as he watched you seek relief from the pain.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby.” 

Replacing your hand with his, Rhett waited with you in silence until the pain subsided enough for you to stand without his support. Hiding your face in his chest, you allowed the feeling of him to surround you and the warmth of his touch to comfort you in every possible way. Holding the back of your head, Rhett buried his nose in your hair, the scent of your perfume mixed with his cologne lingered on your hair. 

The bullet that had torn through your abdomen had exited low leaving behind a knarled scar on your back, the spot still tender to the touch on the best of days and agonizing on the worst. As the shakiness of your limbs was replaced by fatigue, the strain of recovering from the intensity of the discomfort stole precious energy from your reserves. But even in your own struggle, the tension in Rhett’s body was unmistakable. You knew without a doubt that he would blame himself for what had just happened. He blamed himself for far more than that when it came to you. Seeing him so guilt-ridden and broken tore at your heart because no matter how many times you’d tried to convince him of the truth, he still couldn’t or wouldn’t believe you.

Not having the energy to break away, but hoping to take the sting off of what had transpired, you turned your head to the side. Resting your cheek on him, you spoke, “So, what’s the plan mister ‘I can’t wait another day’ ?” 

Despite your best efforts the winded rasp of your words gave away the distress you were in, the ache now radiating all over your back.

“Y/N, be serious. Not now, not after… why don’t we just take it easy for today? I can draw you up a bath before I head into town and get your refills.” 

There was a distant look in his eyes as he spoke. Rhett’s focus appeared to be on you, but in reality, his mind was far away, detached, lost to the dark depths of his thoughts. 

“I’m okay, I promise.”  

“You’re not though.”

“I am, an' why won’t you believe me?” Sadness bled into frustration as you questioned him.

Looking up, you took notice of the way his neck muscles tensed with the burden of holding back the words he so desperately wanted to speak. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened as his lips pursed with trepidation. 

“Talk to me, Rhett. You can’t keep shutting me out like this. I mean... what happened to what you were saying earlier? About us… about getting married?” 

“What happened?” Anger, not toward you, but toward himself boiled over, “What happened is I failed to keep you safe, Y/N. Fuck. I can’t even keep from you hurting you inside the goddamn house. An’ I... I....”.

Rhett’s hands shook as he fought to control himself. Leaning back on the counter, the color bled from his knuckles as he gripped the countertop. The excruciating barbs of remorse and shame caught the words in his throat like a trap. Unable to look at you, he stared off into the living room.

Giving yourself a second to think, you stepped in front of him, taking in the wounded look in his eyes as the tears he hoped to contain welled to a tipping point. Reaching out with both of your arms, you felt the sharp stab of pain in your bad shoulder as you settled your hands on Rhett’s face. Brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones, your fingertips caught his tears as they began to fall. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to your palm. His hands came up to settle on your wrists, holding you to him as he closed his eyes, a deep sigh rattled from his chest as he tried to let go of the anger. 

“Rhett, I’m alive because of you…” 

He recoiled at your words as if the sound of them burned him, but that didn’t stop you from continuing on. 

“I know you don’t agree with me yet when I say that, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. And I’ll keep on saying it for as long as it takes you to believe me. I love you.” 

“I love you too… more than you could ever know.” 

Pressing up on the balls of your feet, you captured Rhett’s lips with your own. The kiss was gentle and easy, but it was enough to pull him back from the edge. Settling back down, you looked up at him, the corners of his eyes softening a touch as he enjoyed the lingering feeling of your lips. 

“Now, I meant it when I said I was sorry to have kept you waiting… please don’t be cruel and do the same to me.” 

Biting the inside of your lip you smiled coyly at Rhett who finally broke into a wide grin. The tiniest hint of the old him peaked through as he leaned into you, kissing you slowly. The heat of his breath was riveting as it drifted over your skin with his words, “I could never do that to you.”

“I didn’t think so. Now, the County Clerk’s office opens at nine, it’s only seven now. That should give us enough time to get ready. After that, we’ll head over to the courthouse. And last, but not least… a nice dinner and a hotel in the city, yeah?” 

“Whatever you say darlin’.” 

Your smile grew as you held the back of Rhett’s neck, your fingers brushed over the exposed skin before dragging along the messy curls. Pushing your weight away from him, Rhett propelled himself off the counter and followed behind you toward the stairs. Moving in your wake, he watched in awe at your strength and just how far you’d come over the past few months. There had been a time not all that long ago when walking more than a few steps without assistance would have left you unable to function without serious physical support. And now, here you were, able to traverse the stairs of the Abbott home on your own. That sight alone filled a small part of the hole in Rhett’s heart with hope that maybe, just maybe, a new normal was possible. 

Reaching the landing at the top of the stairs, you continued on toward the bedroom. Flipping on the main light, you made your way to the closet and pulled on the dangling cord to illuminate the smaller space. The zing of hangers running over the metal bar filled the quiet as you searched for something to wear. Your selection was fairly limited as sweatpants and baggy t-shirts had practically become your uniform since coming home from the hospital. Running your fingers over the last few items you had, you came to a sudden halt. Grabbing onto the hanger, you removed it from the bar, giving the item a once over. It was the dress you’d worn when Rhett had taken you out on a real date before the incident. The tiny daisy pattern was just as delicate and sweet as you remembered. Turning around you found him pulling on a pair of fresh jeans, the rusty burnt orange shirt he’d thrown on hung open exposing the t-shirt underneath. 

“Could use a little help here.” Moving toward the bed you watched as he assessed the situation.

Snapping to attention, Rhett’s concern washed over his features for just a moment until he realized what you were holding. Pausing for only a second, he took a few strong strides in your direction. Seeing him move, you placed the dress down on the bed. His momentum slowed so that he could give you a once over, his eyes casting over every inch of you.

Dipping his hands under the hem of your oversized sleep shirt, he found the waistband of your sweats. Hooking fingers inside, he pushed them gently over your hips until they fell to the floor. He knelt on the ground to help you lift your feet and step out of the pants. Nudging them to the side with your toes, you could feel the warmth radiating from Rhett as his hands stayed on your body. Seeking more of you, Rhett lost himself in the softness of your skin under his touch. Dragging his mouth along the outside of your thigh, his hands drift up to your sides as he moved to stand. The feeling of his callous rough hands sent shivers down your spine. With delicate pressure, he guided your bad arm out of the sleeve before doing the same to your good side. Lifting the shift over your head, he let it join your sweats.  

Standing like this in front of Rhett, you felt exposed in a way you’d never experienced, the utter adoration in his eyes as he got lost in the sight of you sent a flush of heat searing over your skin. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingertips feathered over the scars that now adorned your front. Leaning in, Rhett kissed along your jaw and down the column of your neck. The bridge of his nose ran along the top of your collarbone to your shoulder. Taking in a deep inhale, he picked up the dress from the mattress and removed the hanger. Dropping the plastic back on the bed he met your eyes briefly before sliding the garment down over your head. With great care, he eased your arms through the thin straps, dipping down to kiss the scars on your shoulders once more before placing the thin piece of fabric into the place where your bra would have sat if you'd been wearing one. Straightening up, his hand smoothed over your thigh allowing the slit to fall to the side. 

“Perfect. So beautiful.” 

“I love you, Rhett.” 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Tipping your head up, you searched for a kiss, which Rhett readily gave. With a small step back you fell into your routine. Button by button, you did up his shirt. Running your hands over his front to press down some of the small wrinkles, you looked down to find that he’d yet to put on his belt.

“Looks like your missing somethin’.”

You teased him with the drag of your over the front of his jeans. If you’d been looking you would have noticed the way his eyes flashed dark with desire. The moment was fleeting as he swallowed hard and composed himself quickly. Opening the drawer he kept his buckles in you scanned over the options in search of one that had always been a favorite of yours, the one he’d been wearing the night of the rodeo finals. It was hidden at the end of the row, tucked under another. Neatly, you plucked it from its spot. Picking up his hat too, you returned to Rhett who was still standing across the room following your every step with his eyes. 

Stopping in front of him, you placed the hat on the bed for a minute to free up your hands. Slowly and methodically, you threaded his belt through the loops of his jeans and fastened the buckle as gracefully as you could. Giving it a tug, you purposefully yanked him off balance, forcing him to hold onto you to steady himself. A low chuckle rumbled from him as he stooped to steal a kiss from you. Rhett felt you twist to grab his hat and place it on his head. 

“There, that’s better.” Lifting your right arm you tipped the brim of his hat up so that you could look into the depths of his stunningly blue eyes, “You ready?” 

“More than you know.” 

…………………….

Heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and throw on just a touch of makeup, you encouraged Rhett to head downstairs and start the truck while you finished up. Giving in to your request, he dropped his wet toothbrush back into the cup and headed outside.

Back to the bedroom, you found your shoes. Sitting on the edge of the bed you slipped on your flats before reaching over to open the nightstand. Feeling blindly inside, you felt the soft velvety fabric of what you were looking for. Closing your hand around the small bag, you retrieved it from the dark of the drawer. Taking your finger you traced a small circle over the outside so that you could feel the outline of what was inside. The creak of the front door opening and Rhett's voice calling up the stairs got you to your feet. Your heart beat rapidly with the anxious excitement of what was to come.

…………………

The trip to the county clerk’s office mercifully hadn’t taken long as the lobby had been mostly empty at that early hour. With a fresh marriage license in hand, you and Rhett made your way to the courthouse. Murky warmth from the overhead lights flooded the waiting area, your hand gripped his knee to calm the nervous bounce and to ground yourself. The distant sound of phones ringing in other parts of the building seeped into the room, the walls providing a nearly non-existent barrier between the inner workings of the courthouse and those awaiting their appointments in the lobby. Only a few other people filled the seats that lined the room, each one too preoccupied with their own problems to notice the way the two of you clung to one another. Your free hand traveled inside the pocket of your jacket, seeking out the soft touch of the pouch within.

Across the room, the groaning creak of a door opening pulled your eyes from Rhett. 

“Rhett & Y/N?” 

“That’s us.” 

Standing first, Rhett took your hand to help you stand. Placing a hand in the middle of your back, he walked as slowly as you needed toward the woman who was waiting just inside the open door. 

“So, everything appears to be in order. The only thing we didn’t see on your paperwork was someone listed to be your witness. Do you have a person who can fulfill that role?”

“No, we don’t.” His voice was low, and a touch of sadness coated each word. 

“Not a problem, we will provide one for you.” 

Leading the two of you down a long hallway, the three of you finally took a sharp right into a brightly lit room. Sunlight flooded into the space through the wall of windows on the opposite side. Waiting inside was another kindly-looking woman, her age was apparent in the way the lines of her face accented her features when she smiled. After brief introductions, the younger employee left to go retrieve the individual who was meant to be the witness for the ceremony. 

“Now, I assume we’ll be exchanging rings of some sort today. Do you mind setting them here for me?” she gestured to the podium in front of her. 

“Of course.” You slid the ring off of your finger and placed it where she’d pointed before reaching into your jacket. Delicately you took out the jewelry pouch, opening the top, you tipped it on its end and let the object inside fall into your palm. Rhett was taken aback by what he was seeing. Tossing your jacket onto one of the chairs, his voice caught your attention.

“Is that?” He was nearly breathless with surprise.

“Yeah, it is.” 

Shaking his head in awe, Rhett's smile halted as he heard the sound of heels on the tile reverberating down the hall. 

“All right, looks like we’ve got everyone here. Are you two ready?” The officiant beamed as she waited for an answer. 

“Absolutely.” You answered for yourself and Rhett who still seemed to be processing the ring sitting on the podium. 

“Wonderful. Let’s begin. If you two can face each other that would be great. Feel free to hold hands if you’d like.” 

Turning to look at Rhett you reached for him instantly. His touch was steadying as the anticipation continued to build. 

“We’re here today to witness the union of Rhett and Y/N in marriage. Today, you begin a new life together, founded on love, honesty, respect, and friendship. The promises you make to each other today should not be taken lightly. A marriage is more than a ceremony – it is a lasting and lifelong commitment. The future promises many happy days ahead, filled with unique opportunities, adventures, and challenges. It is through trust, love, and the unfailing support of each other that you will meet these inevitable ups and downs.”  

Pausing to look at both of you, she couldn’t help, but notice the radiating happiness that poured off of you both. While conducting these ceremonies was a common occurrence, it wasn’t every day that she had the honor of seeing two people so deeply in love standing in front of her. 

“By means of this ceremony, Rhett and Y/N will become united in a special new way. To this moment they bring the fullness of their hearts to share with one another; they bring the dreams which bind them together in spirit; they bring their individuality, which will be preserved, but out of which will emerge their life together.” 

Clearing her throat she continued, “Rhett, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together with her in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

“I will.” you squeezed Rhett’s hand lightly as he spoke. His voice shook just a little as he responded, the truth of those words, ‘In sickness and in health’ hit far too close to home

“Y/N, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”

“I will.” Rhett reciprocated the squeeze you'd given him as a sign of his support.

“Next, we proceed to the exchanging of the rings. Rhett, please take Y/N’s ring.” 

Letting go of your hand, Rhett’s shaky fingers closed around your ring.

“The wedding ring represents the promises and potential of marriage. It has no beginning and no end and is a timeless symbol of the love and commitment you have pledged. As you wear your ring, let it remind you of the love you feel here today. Rhett, please repeat after me.” 

Phrase by phrase, Rhett followed the words of the officiant. His voice was deep and gruff as he tried to hold himself together. 

“...And for as long as our love shall last.” 

Holding your left hand, Rhett returned the ring to your finger. Looking up, he caught your eyes, his breath hitching in his chest as he reveled in the way the sun basked you in a white glow. 

“Now it's your turn Y/N, please repeat after me.” 

Following the same phrases, the weight of the moment finally caught up with you. Tears pooled in your eyes before starting to flow down your cheeks. Releasing his hold on your hands once again, Rhett reached up, swiping his thumb along your cheekbone to wipe away your tears. 

“... And for as long as our love shall last.”

The tremor in your hand was evident as you slid the ring onto Rhett’s finger, the ring you’d kept in your possession for so many years. Seeing it back on his hand after all this time, he felt his throat clench with emotion. It was his ring. The ring you’d had gifted to him the night he’d become a member of the Professional Bull Riders. You'd wanted to show him how proud you were of what he'd accomplished, but the meaning of that ring change so much in such a short amount of time. It became a symbol of his love for you all those years ago when he'd given it back to you the night you left Wabang for college. A promise that he’d always be with you, even when you were far away.

“True marriage is more than just a ceremony or a piece of paper – it is a lasting bond that joins two lives and two hearts. Marriage is love. Companionship. Trust. And Respect. May you always find strength in each other, laugh with each other, and find safety and comfort in each other’s words and company. May you celebrate many joyful seasons together, support each other when days are difficult, and continue to learn and grow closer together with each passing year. By the virtue of the authority vested in me by the state of Wyoming, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride! Congratulations! ” 

Rhett’s wide palm cupped the side of your face and neck as he brought you in close with his hand on your waist. Your lips found his easily, coming together seamlessly. Holding him to you with a hand on his side, your body sang with elation. Breaking apart, you barely heard what the officiant was saying, but it didn’t matter. Before long you and Rhett were on your way out of the building to celebrate. 

……………………..

In just the short time you’d been away from Wabang, you’d both seen a wondrous glimpse into what you hoped the future held. There was freedom in this time spent together. Your heart was light and joyous as the two of you meandered back to the hotel room. Hands laced together, both of you enjoyed the sights and sounds spilling out of the bars as you walked past, your bodies constantly in contact. The anticipation for the rest of the night burned underneath every touch. 

The lobby of the hotel was still bustling with activity as people flocked to the restaurant and bar attached to it as well as many others who were just headed out to enjoy some late-night entertainment in Riverton. Finding your way to the bank of elevators, it didn’t take long for you to arrive back at the room. Reaching from behind you, Rhett pressed the key card against the pad, the mechanical whir of the lock sounded loudly in the silent hall. Allowing you to lead the way into the room, he was sure to hold open the heavy door. 

Rhett’s gaze stayed with you as you slipped off the jacket he’d placed over your shoulders during the walk back. Facing the window, you marveled at the sea of lights that branched out from the hotel. Removing his hat, he tossed it on the T.V. stand before joining you. The warmth radiating from him seeped into your skin as his hands ran down the length of your exposed arms before setting on your hips. Closing your eyes, you allowed your head to fall back against his chest, his lips ghosting over your neck and shoulder, paying attention to every bump and dip that marred your skin. 

Rhett’s nose skimmed along the curve of your neck, the rough drag of his stubble across your skin was enough to drag a quiet gasp from you. Hearing the quiet exhale that escaped you as he nipped at the crook of your neck, he focused on the feeling of his lips on your body. Lifting your good arm, you threaded your fingers through his hair, the strands soft beneath your touch. Feeling your turn in his arms, Rhett eased into capture your lips, the pace languid as if time was standing still. The two of you stayed like this, locked in an easy embrace until the need for air grew desperate. Rhett’s hold on you was truly the only thing keeping you standing at this point, the day’s activities had left your healing body fatigued beyond measure. Resting your forehead on his shoulder, your ragged breathing drifted over the cotton of his shirt, heating the skin below. 

Sniffing sharply, Rhett spoke for the first time since getting back to the room, “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just need to sit down.” 

“Okay. Let’s get you outta this first, all right?” 

Gathering the skirt of your dress in his hand, Rhett shimmied it up your torso, the fabric bunching around your waist. Taking a second to think, he paused to figure out the best way to get it off of your body without further aggravating your shoulder. With an idea in mind, he proceeded to delicately work it off of your frame, tossing it into the chair next to the bed before guiding you to sit. Still standing before you, Rhett’s appeared to be lost in thought. 

“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes.” The boldness of your words sent a new feeling floating through the room.

“You think so?”

“I know so. Now get over here so I can fix the problem.” 

Chuckling a low laugh, he came closer. His knees bent to kneel, but your hands on his thighs stopped him. Unclasping his belt buckle, you deftly popped the button on his jeans. Working the zipper down, you tugged at the pants, working them down his legs. Kicking them to the side, Rhett knelt down on the ground before you, the rough texture of the carpet bit into his skin as he brought himself closer to you. Running your finger down the front of his chest, you hummed with satisfaction. Carefully and with great focus you undid each of the buttons holding his shirt together. Sliding your hands under the edges you pushed the fabric away from his shoulders. Helping you free him the rest of the way, Rhett added the rusty orange shirt to the chair. Left now in his t-shirt and boxers, you leaned forward, your thumb swiping over his lips. Rhett’s eyes closed at the tenderness of your touch. His hand came up to hold your wrist, locking you in this moment. The faint echo of the kiss he pressed into your thumb was enough to spur you on. Rucking up the bottom of his shirt you removed the garment. 

Rhett’s heart beat wildly as you traced the tattoo on his pec. The barely there touch of your hand sent his mind reeling with desire. He leaned forward needing to feel your lips again. Still kneeling on the ground, he settled himself firmly between your thighs as his palms skimmed over your the outside of legs only stopping when he had a solid grasp on your hips. Hauling you closer to the edge of the bed, you brought your chest flush with his, the sensation of your skin on his electrified your senses. The desperation you felt to have him sat barely restrained as Rhett mouthed at the swell of your breasts, his fingernails ghosting over your legs and sides as he teased you with his touch. Easing his way off the floor, you moved with Rhett as he pushed you further onto the bed. 

The coarse comforter scratched along your back as you settled firmly on the mattress. Supporting his weight, Rhett dug one of his forearms into the bed by your head while the other traced along the curves of your body. Your chests pressed together with every deep ragged breath, savoring the feeling of having the other so near. Looking up at him through a lust-filled haze, you tucked the errant strands of hair that had fallen into Rhett’s face behind his ear. His body was on fire, the flames growing brighter with each touch. His body was crying out to him to hold you close, to worship every broken and battered part of you. Threading your fingers with his he held your good arm up by your head, as he worked his way down your body. 

Soft exhales accompanied every brush of his lips, your head pressing further back into the bed as your body arched up to meet him. The low timber of a groan tumbled from his chest as he pressed his lips to the jagged edges of the wound on your stomach. The pressure was so gentle it was nearly lost in the sounds that filled the room with a blissful symphony. Reaching your hips, Rhett kissed over the line of your underwear as he slid them down your body. Sitting back, he inched the fabric off of your legs before tossing it to the side. Kneeling again, he cradled your ankle and knee. Working his way back up, he roved over the expanse of your leg, his hands moving in tandem with the rest of him. 

The heat of his breath wafted over your core as he settled himself between your legs. The intimacy of his touch sent you keening, his moan vibrating lusciously against you. Your voice caught in your throat at the feeling of him. Needing more, you wound your hand into his hair, tugging firmly on the silken strands. Rhett adored the feeling of you, the taste of you as he gave into his base desires. For the first time since the attack, the fears that’d held Rhett back began to melt away. 

The roll of your hips accompanied by a quiet whine gave away how close you were to tumbling over the edge. Massaging your hips, Rhett’s words ghosted over you as he encouraged you to give in, “Let go, baby, I’m right here.”  

That was all took for you to give in. The muscles in your legs twitched lightly as you enjoy the bliss of your release. Rhett continued to worship your body, paying attention to the way you pressed yourself against him seeking the touch of tongue against you. Feeling your body sink back into the bed, he lifted himself up, placing a line of searing kisses along your stomach and chest until he reached your lips. Capturing your in an electric kiss, he shuddered as you ran your hands along his sides and back, hauling him closer. Sweeping your tongue across his lips, you begged him for more. Giving in more than willingly, the kiss became one of tongues and teeth. Running your hand down his chest, you reached for his hand. Grasping his wrist, you guided his hand to where you needed him the most, pleading for him to touch you. 

“Rhett…-” your voice was strained as a gasp stole the words from your mouth. 

“I know sweetheart.” 

He wasn’t sure when the energy of the room had shifted, but there was an undercurrent of pure desperation and need that flowed between the two of you, unlike anything he’d ever experienced with you. You could feel it too. There had been many nights spent together, exploring every inch of one another, learning exactly what made the other tick. And yet, since that fateful night at the rodeo, there had been a void between you, the cold blade of worry cutting a gash in your relationship. But the blackness of that divide seemed to lighten and close as the two of you found each other once again. Rhett’s eyes raked over your frame, his focus falling to the way your mouth fell open slightly as he touched you. His control wavered radically as felt your body tighten under him. 

“Baby, I need to feel you… I need you…” Rhett’s voice trembled as he vocalized his desires.

“Then take me.” your words flowed out on a rattling breath. 

Removing himself from you only long enough to take off his boxers, he settled between your thighs as soon as he was free. Rhett eased himself into you, the feeling of you soft and pliable against him sent a shiver down his spine. Dipping his head down, his lips captured yours as he moan into your mouth. Giving you a minute to adjust, he breathed deeply as he kissed you. Needing to hold onto something, you dug your fingers into his back and hair as you soaked in the feeling of him. 

“Please, I need you to move.” clawing at his back, you pleaded with him for more. 

Rhett wasted no time in meeting your request. Carefully, he tested the waters, moving his hips slowly, allowing you to tell him to stop if it was too much, but you didn’t. Instead, your grip on him tightened, your hips coming to meet his, searching for more. 

“I’m right here. It's okay, Rhett...” 

Your words broke him. A quiet sob fell from his lips as he realized you were giving him permission to have you in the way he’d been too afraid to seek. Burying his face in your neck, he snapped his hips sharply into you, the force yanking a gasp from both of you. The rhythmic sound of skin on skin sounded through the room, as he pushed the pair of you to point of no return. Feeling him begin to falter, you searched for his lips. Sliding your hand into his now damp curls, you pulled him into you before moving your attention to the base of his neck. Grazing the area with your teeth, you bit down lightly. The sharp sting of your bite spurred Rhett on, the pace of his thrusts ramping up as he reached between the two of you, needing to take you with him over the edge. Drawing gentle circles over your sensitive bud, he felt you clench around him, the all-encompassing sensation of you drew him closer. Dragging your hands down his back, you dug your fingers into his skin as you felt him finally find his release with you right behind.

Holding him against you, you fought to regain control of your lungs. Your faces were so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. Not ready to relinquish the feeling of you wrapped around him, Rhett rolled onto his back taking you with him. Resting happily on his chest, you closed your eyes and listened to his breaths as he ran his hand along your spine. Looking at you, he felt his body tighten with emotion. The damp wash of your tears pooling against his chest only added to moment. His hands came up to hold you as he forced himself to stay calm. 

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, just happy. I love you, Rhett Abbott.” Tears of pure joy and love continued to flow as you held onto Rhett.

“I love you too, Y/N Abbott.” 

This was what he’d always wanted... what you'd both dreamed of. A life together far away from the horrors that you’d both experienced. A life where the two of you were free to love one another without hesitation or fear of what was to come. You were his everything and he knew more clearly than ever that he’d do whatever it took to stay by your side for as long as the world would allow. 

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

@lostinthefandoms11

@hope-love-equality2

@eugene-emt-roe

[voraciousvore]

In the Belly of the Giant (6/39)

***Contains mouthplay***

Chapter 6

Eren, feeling flustered at being rushed by her boss, had the secretary call in her next patient. She glanced at the clock high up on the wall, and realized she was going to miss at least part of her lunch. She wasn’t too happy about that fact. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to race through and do a mediocre job either. She owed it to her patients to give them the best teeth cleaning she could. 

Her next patient was another new client who she had never seen before: John Smith, according to the chart. Eren thought it somewhat odd, to have such a generic name, but she supposed the name was common after all. However, when the giant patient walked in and sat his enormous frame in the chair, his appearance was anything but generic. He had dark, cold eyes that darted around the room suspiciously when he came in. He was unshaven and scruffy, with pockmarked skin and a greasy mop of black hair. He had an odd, ugly tattoo on the back of his hand that looked like a primitive line drawing of a singular eye with a smiling maw full of sharp fangs. Eren cringed internally when she saw his yellow teeth, likely stained from chewing tobacco. His teeth looked like they hadn’t been brushed in years. She had her work cut out for her. 

After seeing the horrific sight that was his teeth, she bypassed her usual greeting and immediately went for the mouthwash. “Good afternoon, Mr. Smith. Please take some mouthwash from the counter over there and swish it around for thirty seconds, if you would,” she instructed, as politely as she could. The giant cocked an eyebrow, but complied without a word. He stared at her aggressively for the entire thirty seconds before spitting into a paper cup with disgust. 

Eren didn’t want to be judgmental towards a giant that she didn’t know, but she felt something was off. The fine hairs on the back of her neck were standing up when she looked into the abyss of his eyes. She felt like she was looking down a dark well that ran miles into the ground, and she was at risk of falling in an unfathomable distance and drowning. She tried to shake off the chilling feeling, licking her lips nervously and forcing a smile. 

“So, Mr. Smith, what brings you in today? Are you experiencing any tooth pain?” she asked.  

The giant furrowed his brow and leaned forward over her, studying her measly form intently. Suddenly, Eren felt very small and vulnerable. She glanced around, up at the clock again, and realized lunch had already started for most of the employees at the clinic. Most of her co-workers were out of the office, gone, leaving her alone. She quelled her rising panic. She assured herself she was just being irrational. Nothing would happen. The giant man was just here for a dental hygiene appointment, nothing more. He certainly needed it. 

“As a matter of fact, I do,” the giant responded. Eren didn’t like his voice; for lack of a better word, she thought it felt slimy, like the sensation she may experience from accidentally sinking her hand in mushy pond scum. He pointed a large, fat finger at his left cheek. “One of my lower molars, toward the back, has been hurting. I think it might be a cavity. Can you take a look?” 

“Sure,” Eren said uncertainly. “Place your chin in the chinrest here, please.” She moved her platform up to his huge chops. “Go ahead and open, please.” The giant's thick lips parted, showing his yellow teeth, and his mouth yawned open wide before her. Eren clicked on her headlamp and peered inside. She repressed her horror at the intimidating walls of blocky, revolting teeth. His tongue was like a massive, rotten slab of meat. The flesh in his mouth was a deep red, dripping with moisture, and his gums around the edges of his teeth looked inflamed. 

Eren examined the molar in question, on the left side of his mouth, but couldn’t see anything from where she was standing, even when she leaned forward on his lower lip. She would have to go inside and take a closer look. She felt a stab of alarm. Something didn’t feel right here. She absolutely did not want to go in this giant’s mouth. She felt a gust of humid, stinking breath emanate from deep within, and shivered. 

She took a step back, away from the portal to hell threatening to engulf her. The giant sat there menacingly, intimidating her with his patient open mouth, waiting for her to enter his trap. When he saw her stepping back, he closed his mouth, appearing befuddled. 

“What do you think?” he questioned gruffly. “Did you see anything that could be causing the pain?” His dark eyes scrutinized her again. 

His words snapped Eren back into reality. She realized she was being silly. Of course the giant wasn’t going to eat her. He just was here to get his teeth worked on. She was supposed to be doing her job, but she was letting irrational fears get in the way. She always felt some anxiety about entering a giant’s mouth; that was normal for a human. Her revulsion was, quite frankly, probably more due to how nasty his mouth was, not because he intended any harm towards her. She wasn’t being fair to a client who needed her help. 

“I…” She tried to form words that made sense, without exposing her inner fears. “I couldn’t see anything from out here. I’ll have to climb inside to inspect.” She exhaled to steady herself. “Open one more time for me.” 

The giant seemed irritated by her stalling, but opened his mouth again. This time, Eren forced down her qualms and climbed over his immense lip and bottom row of incisors, finding herself on the meaty slab of his tongue. She trudged over the squishy surface to his back molar and crouched down to look at it. Other than the yellowed, crusty surface, the tooth looked normal. No cavities. 

“I don’t see anything,” she called out, loud enough for the giant to hear her, her voice echoing in the cavern of flesh around her. Unexpectedly, the giant tongue twitched underneath her feet, making her fall back as she momentarily lost her sense of balance. The jaws clamped shut around her like a bear trap, encapsulating her in a curved prison of giant teeth. Eren was stunned, not understanding what was happening. 

The giant said to her one simple phrase. His deafening voice came up from his larynx deep in his throat and thundered around her. His pronunciation was garbled, since he kept his mouth closed and Eren was seated on his tongue. Nevertheless, his words were unmistakable and disquieting. “Resist, and I’ll swallow you.” 

Eren panicked. She didn’t rationally comprehend his vocalized threat right away. Her mind screamed at her to get out, at any cost. She sprang to her feet and rushed to the front of the huge mouth, banging her fists against the closed teeth desperately. “Let me out!” she wailed shrilly. 

The giant’s muscular tongue scooped up her tiny body and squashed her against the roof of his mouth, knocking her breath out of her lungs. “Shut up,” the earsplitting voice growled all around her. The tongue returned to its default position and Eren hunched over on her knees, gasping for air. A puddle of saliva formed around her legs. Before she could regain her footing, the giant stood up out of the dentist chair and started walking. She bounced on his tongue and was jostled about, falling against the walls of teeth.  

He pressed his tongue against her again, to keep her from squirming. Eren was terrified. She lamented not listening to her instincts regarding the giant. She didn’t want to be eaten again; once was more than enough. She weakly tried to fight back, but her strength was no match for the oversized tongue. From prior experience, she knew she had no chance of escape, even if the giant decided to spit her out. 

Eren felt a glimmer of hope when she remembered her smartwatch. If she could just call Joey, he could come save her, and find out where she was from the tracker. She fumbled for her arm, pinned down to the teeth, only to realize with a sickening dread that she forgot to put the gadget back on her wrist. She vehemently cursed her boss, recalling how he had pressured her to hurry up when preparing for her next client. If she hadn’t been rushing, she would’ve remembered the watch. 

Eren was in serious trouble. Nobody would be able to find her. She had no idea where she was going, or what was going to happen to her, but she knew beyond any doubt it was nothing good. How long would it take anyone to recognize she was missing? Would anyone even notice the giant whose mouth she was trapped in walk out of the clinic, when most of the employees were on lunch? She realized “John Smith” was obviously a fake name. He had planned to steal her from the beginning. Her intuition had been right, and she had been too stupid to listen to herself. 

She lamented her naïve foolishness and started to cry. She might never see Joey or her dad, the most beloved people in her life, again. She regretted all her life decisions that had led her up to this point. All the energy left her body and her legs collapsed beneath her, causing her to slide down the wall of teeth into a wet patch of spit pooling in the warm flesh below. She could do nothing except whimper pitifully and tremble. 

Before long, the tongue that had been holding her down released pressure and slid back. The rows of teeth parted, and the giant forcefully spat her out into his hand. She didn’t get the opportunity to run away or resist before his massive fingers closed around her in a tight fist, pinning her arms to her sides. Eren cried out and struggled in his hand, to no avail. Surveying her surroundings, she saw they were in a giant car. The giant turned the car key, causing the engine to roar to life, and drove off. He lowered his fist to his lap and held her there while he drove, so she couldn’t see out the windows. 

“W-w-what are you going to do with me?” Eren stammered, her voice little more than a small, timid whine. The giant ignored her, didn’t even deign to look at her, and continued driving, taking her far away from everything she knew. 

Meanwhile, back at the clinic, most of the employees came back from lunch. Dr. Larson marched into Eren’s workspace and planted his hands on his hips, searching the room with his eyes. He huffed and went out to the front desk in the waiting room. 

“Have you seen Eren?” he interrogated the secretary. 

“No,” she answered distractedly as she filed her nail, “but I just got back from lunch so she may have left while I was gone.” 

“Dang it,” he muttered. “I told her she wasn’t getting an extra break! She must have finished with her patient and went to lunch anyway!” He scowled at her perceived defiance. “How’s my schedule looking?” 

“You have a short gap in your schedule, and your next patient just called to cancel and reschedule her appointment,” the secretary reported. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll take Eren’s next patient then,” the dentist grumbled. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to pick up the slack, and that fact irritated him. 

On the other side of town, Joey checked his phone while sitting in the police cruiser. Eren hadn’t texted him on her lunch break like she usually did. He figured her jerk of a boss must be overworking her again, forcing her to skip her lunch. She often vented her frustrations about her boss to Joey, in the privacy of their own apartment. Even so, Joey was worried. Perhaps he was just being paranoid, but the nagging pit of concern in his stomach told him something was wrong. He pulled up the tracker app on his phone and checked his girlfriend’s location. He sighed with relief when he saw she was still at the clinic. She was probably fine, just busy working. 

Chapter 7

Chapter 1

[danco110]

“To rise like the sun—there is no greater feeling.”

“Er, yeah. Sure, Itzama.”

The Sun Empire soldier frowned. She tore her gaze from the pterodon flying past her at eye level and looked down from her vantage point. There she spied the speaker, on the ground far below.

“Something the matter, Mahuiz?”

The more grounded soldier nodded their head wryly. “Kind of. It’s just…well, you’re talking about ‘rising like the sun’ like you’re flying or something.”

“Yes?”

“And, well…you aren’t flying.”

Mahuiz pointed up, to the massive altisaur carrying Itzama atop its head. The dinosaur’s passenger laughed, and held out a hand to gesture to the pterodon from earlier, which was now curiously circling around her.

“Noble aspirations, my friend. That’s all. And what’s wrong with that?”

“Well, nothing truly terrible, I suppose,” Mahuiz admitted. “It just seems rather untruthful, is all. Lies of omission and all that.”

“Oh, I’m doing no harm.”

“Not even to your…platform?”

Mahuiz snickered as they pointed again to the altisaur. Itzama merely waved her hand, prompting the long-necked dinosaur to lift her even higher.

“Especially not to it…Although, you are right in a sense. Some wings would be nice- Whoa!”

Displeased with Itzama’s preference, the altisaur gave a grumbling growl and reared its head, sending the soldier tumbling down the back of its neck and into the mud at its feet. Mahuiz shook their head as they stepped forward to help their friend.

“Well, you sure hurt its feelings!”

[Interesting how Pterodon Knight’s ability grants flying, yet any dinosaur can trigger it - even the non-flying ones!

Also, I don’t like using double dashes, but I guess I’ll use em in quotes…if I have to.]

[littlemisskittentoes]

Get To Know Your Fanfic Writer!

first and foremost, massive thank you to @affectionatelyrs for the tag. it made me smile lots 💖

When Did You Post Your First Fanfic?

I’m still such a baby to posting fanfic. I have a long history of starting something, and leaving it to die unfinished.

My maiden voyage of actually finish something and posting was less than a month ago! Only this past September.

First Characters You Wrote For?

Unfinished and unposted? Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson.

First ones other people actually got to witness? FirstPrince, my beloveds.

Main Characters You’re Currently Writing For?

FirstPrince, my beloveds.

I’m also hoping to dive a bit more into June and Nora!

Characters You Haven’t Written About Before, But Plan to Soon?

Nora and Alex’s friendship. I think their connection is so sweet and special. I just haven’t dove too far into it yet.

Platonic Pairings You Currently Write For?

Honestly, I haven’t written too much of the platonic connections within the Super Six into my fics yet. But, I cannot help but give Pez some screen time.

I so completely adore Pez and Henry’s friendship. That being said, I’m also so in love with Pez’s character that I am terrified of writing him and doing any sort of disservice to the enigma that is Percy Okonjo. So, I still find myself straying away from really diving into including Pez. One of these days…

Romantic Pairings You Currently Write For?

FirstPrince, my beloveds. And also, as of tonight, Nora and June!

Your Top 3 AO3 Tags?

1. Hurt/Comfort

2. Fluff

3. ‘No beta’ related tags… 😬

Current Platform Where You Post Your Works?

AO3, baby!

A Snippet From a Current WIP?

A snippet from an assassination attempt WIP, that will still not be posted for quite some time—

“Forever” moved from being feeling, something Alex could feel waltzing in the air around Henry, to something hiding in the corners of their brownstone. It whispered in the steam rising from their mugs– early gray for Henry, coffee with only sugar and cinnamon for Alex. In the way the mug was always hot and waiting for him on the counter when Alex finally dragged himself out of their bed and down the stairs, long minutes after Henry had convinced himself to stir.

(Henry admitted once that the cinnamon was a stolen strategy: one selfishly burrowed away into his memory after tracing the words along the fact sheet that had fallen into his lap the weekend all those years ago. Almost like his own personal four-leaf clover.)

Now, “forever” peeked out from the chain hanging above their sink, swaying softly in the breeze, when they eased the window open in the spring. The key and ring clinking together like piano keys; the melody so far away from the dependence they used to cling to in order to ground themselves.

(Alex whispered to Henry one night, bodies still damp beneath a light sheet. It had been when the touch of their skin against one another was still new. The butterflies still fluttered in quiet nervousness. Both of them were still in awe that they were allowed this now.

Alex’s eyes stayed closed, and the chain along his neck rose and fell quickly with his still-racing heart. He whispered into Henry’s neck that it was funny– how he never took this key off, but he had never felt further from the boy he had been in Texas. Henry had held him closer, let the warmth of his skin pour into Alex’s while the gravity of deciding to go to law school, to relax his grip on the idea of a life he had picked for himself, had run himself ragged trying to hold on to, sunk in.)

“Forever” inked itself into the ring along their left hands, and the phone numbers of florists and highlighted tasting appointments dotted along their shared calendar by the door.

Happy wasn’t novel or exhilaratingly new anymore. It was comfortable and safe now, like the sound of waves lapping at the dock of the lake house, or the echo of solitary footsteps around the marble halls of the V&A.

Perhaps that's why the red of Alex’s blood along his crisp button down, blooming like the freshly steeped agua de jamaica Henry had sipped nervously his first time meeting Alex’s tías, confused Henry at first. He had to hear the pop echo along the street, chased away by shrill screams of people around them. He had to watch Alex watch the spot creep out. He had to watch Alex press his shaking hand, glinting with that damn ring, against his chest. He had to watch Alex’s knees give out and race towards the concrete of the sidewalk before he understood.

no pressure tagging these lovely, lovely writers @inexplicablymine @hypnostheory @happiness-of-the-pursuit

[reddyanna167]

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[kadssp-main]

i bring to you evening itto thoughts

A/N: i‘m in love with him and this is my way of manifesting I win the 50/50 for him. come home my big lovable himbo oni

warnings: nothing but pure fluff i mention his phat big juicy titties once

reader is gender neutral!

————————————————————

you already know he’s a big himbo oni, constantly loud and his laughter booming throughout the area or room as he does or says things, maybe even as he yells at poor sara.

but he’s not always like this, oh no no no. with you, when you’re both alone in the safety of your home. he’s much more peaceful most of the time when he isn’t choking on food or accidentally breaking objects in your house.

he is actually a very sweet oni. he likes to give himself the title Arataki “best and most loving boyfriend in the entire world” Itto, which you’ve said was ‘too long of a title’ but he laughed you off and still says it and he says it with pride so who are you to stop him.

this is the same never-stopping-never-admitting-defeat Itto that can be the sweetest boyfriend to you when you’re alone. he can be quiet, he can be soft and gentle.

so just imagine with me for a moment,,,

Itto quietly laying on his back in your hopefully huge bed, your head on his massive titties chest as you listen to the thumping of his heart that beats in a steady rhythym.

He quietly hums a tune you don’t recognize as he runs his fingers through your hair, taking extra care to not hurt your scalp with his sharp nails as you both lie there contently.

After a few more moments you move your head to look up at him, his eyes that were closed now opened as he stares back down at you. So small compared to him as you lay against him, one of your hands in his free one the completely engulfs yours with the difference in size.

”What is it, sunshine.” He whispers to you as his lips quirk up in a smile, part of his fangs coming into view as he does so.

You hum in thought for a moment, his hand on your scalp massaging it gently making your body relax further into him before you close your eyes and sigh in content.

”Nothing, ‘tto. I was just wondering if I could trace your markings.” You mumble as you hide your face in the crook on his neck, your cheeks a light shade of pink as you try to hide yourself from him.

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest as your heart flutters at the sound. “Sure you can, sunshine.” He smiles, releasing your hand to lift your face so you can see him. His eyes filled with adoration for you, bright eyes softening as he continues to gliding his hand through your hair.

You smiled warmly at him your face a few shades darker, leaning your head against his hand that rested on your cheek before moving forward and stealing a kiss from him.

Moving away quickly after you rest your head on his shoulder this time, your hand tracing the smooth red lines across his chest, sides and arms as you both relax further into the mattress.

His arm snakes around your waist holding you softly yet firmly against him, as if you’d disappear if he let go. Your breathing matching his as you close your eyes while tracing the red lines you’ve memorized over the time of knowing him.

Placing a soft kiss against his neck you close your eyes with a hum. “Love you, ‘tto.”

His chest rumbles again as he quietly laughs to himself, holding you tighter ever so slightly as he closes his own eyes, leaning his head down and kissing the crown of your head before whispering out softly,

”I love you too, my sunshine.”

————————————————————

likes and reblogs are appreciated

do not repost or use my work on any platform

[botnasty]

Red

Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Summary: Angry smex

Words: 757 words

Warnings: little mention of injuries, arguing for a lil, SMUT (Unprotected smex (wrap it before you tap it bot), PIV, rough sex)

Note: All mistakes are mine :) And also don’t be shy, come say hi . My request are open, so if you have any suggestions or ideas, I’m open to hear them.

Masterlist

Please DNI if you are under 18! This is an 18+ blog!

Also, please don’t steal my work, on any other platform, unless you have my authorisation

“Well, it looks like you have a small concussion, but the bleeding stopped and it’s already starting to heal, it looks like.” Informed Bruce to you and Bucky.  “Also have a broken rib and a few cutes here and there, but it already started to heal because of the super serum.” You were both back from a mission that took an interesting turn when the alarm got off and many Hydra soldiers started to attack the both of you.

In the end, you both got out with the data, but not without any injuries. Some more than others because they got careless.

Which is why you were pretty mad at your boyfriend right now.

You both go into your shared room and the moment the door closes, you pressed your forehead against it with a sigh. 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Angel. We both got out! The mission is a success!”

You closed your eyes. It was true that it was a success, but that wasn’t what was more important to you. “Stop talking, James.” You used his first name. Something you did often when you were angry. “Please…”

You turned around and went straight to your room, without glancing at him. You heard him scoff in the next room. “You can’t seriously be mad at me…” 

You turned around and glared at him. “Yes, James. Yes I can be mad at you.” You stepped closer to him. “You could have been seriously hurt! Fuck that! You got hurt! I know it’s our job, but you have been careless during this mission.” 

Bucky scoffed once again, crossing his arms. For a brief second your eyes wandered to them, but you looked back up to him. “What did you want me to do! Do nothing! Let them capture us! Is that what you wanted!” He stepped closer, both of your feet were touching now. 

You shivered when you felt his warm breath against your cheeks. “Of course, I don’t want th–”

“Then stop complaining!”

It was your turn to scoff. “You lil–” You pressed a finger against his hard chest.

Bucky smirked and leaned closer to you. “You what?”

You took a deep breath and grabbed the collar of his shirt. “You come here.” And you pressed your lips against his. Bucky picked you up with his massive arm by your thighs and pressed you against the wall of your bedroom. 

You winced a little when your back collided with the wall, but the pain went over your head the moment Bucky started trailing kisses from your cheek down to your neck. “Bucky, I need you…”

“Whatever you need, Angel.” He bit your untouched skin a little before going into action. The next second, you were both naked waist down and Bucky was sliding his cock inside your pussy. “ Fuck, feel so good…”. He slid in and out of you slowly. Making you frustrated. 

“Just fuck me, Bucky. Fuck me hard.”

“God, you are so hot when you are mad.” Said Bucky has he jack-hammered his hips up. His cock sliding in and out with a shear force that made you see stars. “Fucking best pussy in the world. Never want to leave it.”

“Don’t stop, Bucky.” You scratched his back. “Don’t you fucking dare stop.” You almost growled at him.

You were a moaning mess. Your hands go from scratching his back to trying to find something to hold. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” 

“That's right, Angel. Scratch me, use me.” He looked at your face. He swore he could cum with just the sight of you with your mouth opened and your eyes closed. “Tell me you’re mine?”

You opened your glazed eyes. “I’m–” You moaned when his cock touched your cervix. “Fuck- right there– I’m yours.”

With that, Bucky kissed you. Even if he was pounding your pussy until you were crying his name out, Bucky’s kisses are always sweet and slow. Full of adoration. Full of love. That combination made you snap and you gushed around his cock, clenching your walls around him. 

“I love you so so much!” He grunted as he spilled his seed inside of you. He still hips, trying to keep it all inside of you. 

With your head on his chest, that's when you started sobbing. 

“If I didn’t know you better, I would’ve thought you were genuinely trying to get hurt… genuinely trying to —” You couldn’t lose him. He was everything for you. “You can’t do that again, Bucky. You can’t.”

Bucky kissed your forehead and pressed them together. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t lose you, Bucky. I love you too much.

“Me too, Angel. Me too.”

Note: Thank you so much for reading!

Please feel free to reblog and tell me what you think. It’s always appreciated!

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: six ( 15.5k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results. 

While scent mixing (heretofore referred to as ‘scenting’) is temporary and lasts a maximum of twelve hours if left undisturbed, scent marking (‘marking’ in common parlance) is semi-permanent. A ‘mark’ is created when the pheromones present in a hybrid’s bodily fluids are applied directly to their markee’s skin. When said chemical compounds seep below the epidermis and bond to the sweat glands found within the dermal layer of the skin, the target has been officially ‘marked’. Between domesticated hybrids and their human caretakers, this is most commonly done by applying hybrid saliva to the skin of the neck, where a human’s scent tends to be strongest. While the behavior involved in marking resembles some aspects of human foreplay, it is a non-sexual expression of mutual trust and affection. It is important to note that most hybrids of age are able to mitigate the oral secretion of pheromones and cannot mark accidentally-

“How do I look?” 

The sound of Jimin’s voice makes you jump. You fumble with your phone, trying to exit out of the website, shove it in your pocket and look at the leopard hybrid’s outfit at the same time.

“You look great!” You tell him once the device is safely tucked away.

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’ve said that about everything I’ve shown you.”

You had, but only because it was true. No matter what the trio of hybrids tried on, they all looked great. You weren’t sure what it was, but seeing them in something other than neutral sweat suits made them look even better than they already had. You were discovering they all had unique senses of fashion too. Taehyung preferred earth tones, soft fabrics and slouchy cardigans, Yoongi tended toward plaid overshirts and dark denim and Jimin had just come out of the dressing room in his sixth button down and second pair of chelsea boots. 

When the four of you had arrived at the mall that afternoon, you’d told them to go wild and call you when they were ready to check out. There was an entire section of the shopping center that catered specifically to hybrids and you were certain they’d be able to find everything they needed and more. You’d been all set to sequester yourself in a booth in the food court and indulge your hybrid research habit, but Taehyung had fixed you with a forlorn look the moment you tried to part with them and Jimin had insisted that you personally review every piece of clothing he put on. You wouldn’t deny that you were having fun, but surreptitiously trying to google what every little thing they did meant without getting caught was getting harder and harder. 

Jimin breezes past you to the semi-circle of mirrors on the far end of the fitting rooms, brushing his tail against your shins as he passes. That was another thing that had changed. Since the talk you’d had with the boys last night, it seemed like they were always finding some excuse to touch you or brush up against you . You didn’t know if it was a manifestation of their cat genes or them just wanting physical reassurance that you were there, but it seemed like every time you turned around there was a tail curling around your calf or a nose tip against your ear or a shoulder brushing your own. You were practically wreathed in them. Even Yoongi hadn’t seemed to mind when your fingertips had brushed against each other at breakfast when you’d passed him the juice. You didn’t know if you should count that as progress, but you want to. 

You’re not entirely used to physical contact and nearly every time Taehyung rubs his cheek on the top of your head or Jimin reaches out to link your fingers together, you jump. It feels strange, to have people be so blatantly physically affectionate with you. It’s not like you dislike it, exactly, it’ll just take some getting used to. Whatever adjustments you need to make, you know you’ll need to make them quickly. You don’t think the hybrids will give up on friendly hugs just because you never initiate them first.  

“Y/N-ah,”Jimin calls, catching your attention. He’s twisting this way and that on the platform, trying to catch his reflection in every possible angle. He hums in disappointment as he turns back to the front, tail waving behind him. “This collar,” he says, tugging on the offending band of bright green plastic around his neck, “-is ruining my outfit. We’ll need to get real ones today.” 

You feel like a stone has settled in your stomach. Your shoulders sag, but if the leopard hybrid notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, you’re right.” In truth, you’d hoped to put it off for a little while longer. Collaring and leashing a hybrid had always seemed odd to you. After all, weren’t they people too? The law was the law, you knew, but something about publicly and visibly marking someone as property...well, the morality of it was gray at best. The temporary collars had provided you with a stay from the inevitable, but there was no avoiding it any longer, you supposed. They’d have to get collars. 

“I saw a store for them a couple shops down,” Taehyung supplies as he steps out of his dressing room in a white linen shirt and cream drawstring pants. “We could go there?” 

“That works for me...Taehyung, one of your buttons is in the wrong hole.” 

The tiger hybrid squints down at his shirt, feels blindly for the hole he missed, but can’t seem to find it. 

“No,” you tell him. “Not that one, the other- do you just want me to fix it?”

He pauses and looks up at you for a solid three seconds before giving a single, slow nod. 

You come to stand in front of him and start undoing the buttons from the top. There’s only four of them but each one you pop open reveals more and more of his honey brown skin and prominent collar bones. Your fingers brush his skin accidentally and he chuffs happily, one hand resting on your lower back as you start buttoning him up again. Heat starts crawling up your neck unbidden. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, you can feel the warmth of his palm, how long his fingers are. He presses you closer until your arms are nearly flat against your chest as you try to finish buttoning him up. It’s hard to move squished between the insistent pressure of his hand and the- surprisingly- hard line of his body, but you make do. “There!” You pat him gently on the chest as you finish the last button. “All done.”

He dips forward and rubs his cheek against your forehead, rumbling so deep in his chest that the vibrations pass into you. “Thank you.” He releases you and pulls away, but as he does, his lips brush against your hairline. You try not to read too deep into it. 

The tiger hybrid sidles over to his friend in the mirror, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and dipping his head into his neck. Jimin reaches back and scratches behind one of his ears and your heart swells in your chest. It was nice to see them be so openly affectionate with each other. They’re so close in a way you can’t even begin to understand. It’s beautiful. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you thumb the screen to life. An incoming call from Mr. Seo. “You guys keep trying stuff on,” you tell the pair, already standing to make your way out of the dressing room. “I’ve gotta take this.”  They both call at you to hurry back and you give them a shout of assent as you rush away. 

The second you’re outside the store, you answer. “Hello?”

“Ms. L/N,” Mr. Seo’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “I trust you’ve settled in well.” It isn’t a question and the tone of his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t wish to spend what precious time he has exchanging pleasantries with you. 

“Yeah, everything’s okay.” Everything had most certainly not been okay when you’d emergency dialed him two days ago about the tiger on your couch. The text he’d sent you back six hours later had told you to figure it out. You had and you knew you weren’t his responsibility, but him tossing you in the deep end was still a sore spot for you. 

“There’s been a change of plans.” 

You grimace. Straight to it, then. “What’s going on?” 

“Black Mountain Canines- the company your uncle purchased two of the hybrids from- changed their pick-up date. They want you to come get them in person today.”

“Pick-up?” You frown. “No, they were supposed to drop them off.”

“They were,” Mr. Seo confirms, “But it’s apparently no longer profitable for them to drive all the way into Seoul to hand-deliver two of their charges. They also claim they’re incurring additional expenses by feeding and housing two hybrids who’ve already been purchased, but we’ll see about that when we arrive.”

Your anxiety spikes and your fingers wrap tighter around your phone. You’d promised the boys a whole day out. All you’d done so far was get them phones of their own and furniture for their room. There was still so much to do, so much to see. “What about Yoongi and Jimin and Taehyung?” You blurt out.

Mr. Seo sighs and his breath crackles over the receiver. “Those are the cats, I assume? I suggest you let them know sooner rather than later that they’ll have to share their space.” There’s a flurry of movement on his end of the line, the sound of someone calling his name and papers shuffling. “I have to go; they need me to look over some case files.” He tells you. “I’ll be at Haneul Tower to pick you up in three hours. Be downstairs waiting.”And the line clicks off. 

You sigh and hang up. What were you going to tell the boys? Day one of your new friendship and you were already breaking promises. 

“Trouble?” Yoongi’s voice right behind you makes you flinch and whirl on him. His ears press back against his head and he takes a step back at your sudden movements. 

“Sorry!” You tell him, forcing your spine to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there; I thought you were still shopping. ”

“I can tell,” he snarks, but there’s no heat behind it. His eyes trace the line of your shoulders, still tense and flick to the phone in your hand. “I dropped my stuff at the register. What’s going on?”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, nerves making your stomach ache. “C’mon,” you tell him, walking back into the store. “Let’s pay and grab some lunch. I’ll tell you when we sit down.” He follows after you a few paces behind, trying not to let worry prick in him at the anxious shift in your scent. Something was about to change, he was sure, and not entirely for the better. 

Twenty minutes later, the four of you are sitting in the food court, a mess of shopping bags at your feet and a bowl of tteokbokki between you. Yoongi and Jimin had picked out all the fish cakes first and were bickering good-naturedly over who the last one should go to, but Taehyung seemed content to just gnaw at his rice cakes. You’d hardly touched anything, your eyes flicking back to the time on your phone. 1:20 P.M. Two hours and forty minutes ‘til Mr. Seo would be at your apartment to pick you up and bring you to get two more of the hybrids your uncle had bought. You push a rice cake around on your paper plate with the end of your chopstick. Well, no point delaying the inevitable. 

“Hey, guys?” You call softly. Three pairs of ears swivel toward you immediately. The words die in your throat and your tongue feels like lead as they look at you, all their eyes focused and expectant. You clear your throat and force yourself to continue. “So...you know how I…” You search for the right word, but there’s really no other way to say it. “...inherited you guys from my uncle?” 

Taehyung’s eyes flick toward Jimin and the leopard hybrid brushes his tail against the tiger’s. Silent communication you couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Yeah,” Yoongi says, tossing his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair. “I told them.”

That was right. What you’d blurted out at Yoongi yesterday on the street you had yet to disclose to his juniors. “Thanks, Yoongi,” You tell him, meaning every word of it. He’d spared you from yet another uncomfortable conversation. 

“...For what it’s worth, we’re glad it’s you,” Taehyung tells you, his tail twining around your ankle under the table. He looks at his hyungs for confirmation and when neither of them deny it, he settles his amber gaze back on you. “We like being here with you, even if you didn’t pick us. It’s...It’s nice.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips at his words. He beams at you, his boxy smile soft despite the sharp incisors poking his bottom lip. “I like having you guys around, too,” you admit, taking the time to meet each of their eyes. Jimin purrs as you look at him, the corners of his mouth curling. When your gaze meets Yoongi’s, his ears twitch but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink either, just holds your stare with an intensity that makes heat crawl up your neck. You suddenly remember the warm stretch of his body over your’s, the sensation of his lips against your neck. You snatch your eyes away and cough to cover your lapse in speech.  “It would’ve been scary, I think, if I had to deal with all this alone.” 

You couldn’t even imagine it.That clinically clean apartment with its blank white walls and its imposing emptiness would have driven you down until you couldn’t stand it anymore. You’d always had a little pit of loneliness inside you. You didn’t know how long it’d been there. Maybe it always had been, a seed of something sad and dark at the core of your soul. You’d done well keeping it contained. You felt it in your goshiwon, but your room was small. It couldn’t grow beyond your keeping. In Oliver’s penthouse, it would’ve had endless room to sprawl and with no one to clip it back, you would’ve choked to death on vines of doubt.

“There are others,” you tell them, before you can down spiral into the mire of your own thoughts. “He bought other hybrids before he died. They weren’t supposed to be coming until next week but their company wants me to come get them today.” 

The mood at the table shifts almost immediately. Taehyung’s ears and tail sag, Jimin’s smile goes sharp at the edges and Yoongi’s lip curls. “How many others?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You notice he does that when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. It’s a defense mechanism, no matter how at ease it makes him seem. 

“Four,” you answer and the bobcat hybrid’s ears tilt back in irritation. “Two are coming home today and the other two toward the end of next week.” Jimin doesn’t say anything, but you see the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. He’s annoyed. Taehyung drops a hand onto the smaller hybrid’s back and rubs circles in it, trying to soothe him. 

“Maybe it’ll be okay?” The tiger hybrid offers. He’s trying his best to be diplomatic, but you hear the strain in the deep timbre of his voice. “Having other cats around again might be nice. We used to live with a lot back at the center…”

You wince. “...they’re canines.” Almost immediately, all of their ears go flat against their skulls and they hiss in unison. Yoongi stifles himself the quickest, setting a hand on Jimin’s knee and squeezing to get the leopard hybrid to get a hold of himself. 

“Hybrids of different species don’t play well together,” he explains. “Especially not when our animals are solitary in the wild. The only reason Jimin, Tae and I are able to stand sharing the same territory is because we’ve known each other since we were kids and we’ve had to do it before.”

Before? A question forms in the back of your mind, but now isn’t the time to ask it.

“We don’t like sharing what’s ours,” Jimin continues for his hyung, interlocking his fingers with yours on the plastic table top. “It’s instinctual.”

“I know, I know.” You squeeze his hand lightly, trying to reassure him. “But the apartment is big; can’t you avoid each other starting out?”

All three of them give you a strange look and Jimin’s lips curl in a way that isn’t quite a smile. “...right,” he purrs, a little delayed. “The apartment.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiety sinking its claws into you. “I’m really sorry to spring this on you guys, I know it’s not great, but…” Your shoulders sag. “I don’t want to have promised someone a home and rip the rug out from under them, you know?” You knew what that felt like. You wouldn’t wish that feeling on your worst enemy. “I’m just...I’m worried that they’re not being treated well.”

“They were up for sale,” Yoongi drawls. “They definitely aren’t.” 

The taxi ride back to Haneul Tower is uncomfortably quiet. Jimin still holds your hand and Taehyung still leans on your shoulder, but nobody says a word. You help them carry their bags upstairs and drop them off in the master bedroom. You’d told them they could have separate rooms if they wanted, but they’d insisted on sharing, so you thought it was only fair that they get the largest room in the penthouse. Clothes went onto hangars and into closets and before you knew it, there were only ten minutes until Mr. Seo’s arrival. 

“You don’t have to go,” Taehyung huffs. He’s got you wrapped in a bear- well, you suppose a tiger hug and his cheek is mashed against the top of your head. You don’t even think he’s actively scenting you at this point, just keeping you from leaving. “Send your assistant instead and stay here with us.”

You let out a puff of laughter and pat the hybrid on the back in a way you hope is soothing. “Mr. Seo isn’t my assistant, buddy, he’s my uncle’s attorney.” You give a little tug away from him and he lets you go, albeit with a sad little mrow that makes him sound just like a disappointed cat. “I couldn’t ask him to do that. The only reason he’s coming is because they broke the contract. And I can’t drive.” 

The look Taehyung gives you is so downtrodden that you toy with the idea of calling the whole day off and staying with them- but no. You can’t bail out now, especially not with what you’d put Mr. Seo through when the first group of hybrids were delivered. “I’ll be back before you know it,” You tell him with a steadfast smile. 

“You’d better,” Jimin says, nudging the taller hybrid out of the way. Taehyung gives a half-hearted growl, but settles as Yoongi squeezes his shoulder. “The longer you’re away, the longer you’ll have to sit in the stench of those mutts.”

You frown. “Jimin-”

“Only joking,” He soothes, bringing both of your hands up to his cheeks. You don’t believe him, but you don’t press it. The leopard hybrid nuzzles into your palms, purring happily at the feeling of your skin against his. Your palms nearly burn from how warm he is. You feel a warm puff of air against your fingers and tense as Jimin presses all ten of them against his lips. 

“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice is hard, but his junior’s lips curl up in a satisfied smile, one of his incisors pricking at the pad of your index finger. 

“Hurry back,” he murmurs. You try not to shiver at the feeling of his plush lips moving against your oversensitive fingertips. 

“I’ll do my best!” You say,  a pained smile tugging your lips apart. He hums in response and drops your hands, his fingers trailing across yours as he lets you go. 

“Hyung,” he calls over his shoulder. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Y/N-ah?”

“Don’t let them scent you.” Is all Yoongi says as he breezes toward the stairs. “You know better now.” 

It’s as much as you were expecting. “I’ll see you guys later,” You tell them as you head out the door. “Finish setting your phones up and text me if you need anything!”

True to his word, Mr. Seo is parked out front at 4 o’clock on the dot. You haven’t seen him in a little over a week and you’d almost forgotten how imposing he was. He cuts a sharp figure against the backdrop of the bustling street, dressed in all black and leaning against a brand new Buick Enclave. The poor valet stationed at the front door looks like he’s been trying to work up the courage to ask to park his car for the past twenty minutes and sags in relief as you start heading over.

The lawyer dips his head in acknowledgement at you and checks his watch. “Miracle of miracles,” he says, popping open the passenger side door for you. “You’re on time.”

“I was late one time,” you huff, sliding past him and into your seat.

“And that was enough,” he snips back, closing your door before you can come up with a retort. You grumble to yourself, but don’t press him. You know he’s right. He’d gone out of his way to help you and you’d put him out. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as he settles into his seat and reaches for his seatbelt. “It won’t happen again; I know you’ve got other things to do.”

He stills and looks at you over the gold frames of his glasses. For a long moment he holds your gaze, unblinking. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Had you done something wrong? 

Finally Mr. Seo blinks and finishes buckling himself in. “I apologize for staring, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you correctly.” He push starts his car and pulls away from the curb. “I never thought I’d see the day a L/N would apologize to me.” He edges the car into the steady stream of Seoul traffic and you’re off, zooming toward the freeway.

Silence fills the car again, but as Mr. Seo takes on-ramp, you work up the courage to ask your question. “Did Oliver never apologize to you?”

Mr. Seo snorts and it’s such an undignified sound that you almost can’t believe it comes from him. “You could tell your uncle the sky was blue and he’d argue that it was red until he was. And your grandfather-” He seems to catch himself, reigning back whatever meager bits of his personality had managed to slip through the cracks in his normally flawless veneer. You’re all ears.

Up until a week and a half ago, you hadn’t known you had any family, much less an uncle who owned buildings and bugattis. Now you were finding out that you had a grandfather too. “What about my grandfather?” The word feels strange in your mouth. It’d been years since you’d followed the word ‘my’ up with any type of familial relation. 

Mr. Seo cuts his eyes at you, and flicks them back to the front. “Nothing,” he replies, clearly done talking about him. “I spoke out of turn.” He reaches forward and turns on the radio, the sound of national news filling the silence.

You pout and slouch in your seat, disappointment setting in as the promise of new information slipped out of your grasp.

The rest of the drive is easy. Mr. Seo takes the highway out of Seoul and up into the foothills but you’re asleep before he even finds the exit. You’d slept more in the past two days than you had in the previous three weeks, but it seemed like years of bad habits were catching up to you.

Last night, you’d passed out halfway through the second movie snuggled up between Jimin and Taehyung. They’d been so warm and soft and the quiet thrumming of their heartbeats had lulled you to sleep before you knew what was happening.You’d woken up with them still curled around you and -maybe most surprising of all- Yoongi plating breakfast in the kitchen.

Still, it seemed even twelve hours of the best sleep you’d gotten in years and a peaceful morning devoid of stress -for the most part- hadn’t been enough.

You wake up just as the asphalt transitions into gravel, the sound of it crunching under the tires and the car’s shaking waking you up. You’re bleary-eyed and confused, but a sign up ahead snaps you to wakefulness. Standing like a guardian over a chain link fence topped with barbed wire is a metal sign, imposing as it is tall: Black Mountain K-9s, written in stark font.

“We’re here,” Mr. Seo says, as if it’s not obvious. He kills the engine and without its purring to distract you, you feel nerves starting to boil in your belly. What kind of place was this? You half expect sinister organ music to kick on and lightning to start flashing from black clouds. Neither of those things happen, though. The sky remains startlingly clear and the only things you can pick up are the sounds of whistles being blown, dozens of people doing call and response, and one voice, louder than all the others screaming for people to ‘Run faster! Get those knees up!’

You pop the door and step out of the car before Mr. Seo can open it for you and head around to the nose of the car, taking in the compound. 

“This facility produces some of the highest caliber bodyguards in the country,” He says, coming to stand beside you. The attorney rebuttons his suit jacket and flicks his sleeves up before settling his arms over his chest. “Politicians, celebrities, even a few former presidents all have hybrids from this training center.”

“It looks more like a prison,” You remark, nodding toward the barbed wire. “First big cat hybrids, now this...Why didn’t Oliver just get regular pets if he was lonely? Was he worried someone was after him?” 

“Anything I can tell you would be pure speculation,” He replies, walking away from you and heading for the callbox. “Your uncle very rarely confided in me.”

“But you were his attorney.” 

For just a second, the tight grip Mr. Seo has on his composure slips. His lips press together and his shoulders sag- but just as quickly as it’d lapsed, his mask is in place again. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “I was.” And he presses the button on the call box before you can pester him with any more questions about the dead men he’d known.

The call box crackles to life, speakers squealing with feedback. You flinch and slap your hands over your ears to protect them from the splitting sound. Mr. Seo doesn’t react at all and you’re stunned, wondering how he can stand it.

“Seo Seunghan and Y/N L/N for Lim Hangyeol.” 

The person on the other end doesn’t respond. The speaker cuts and a second later, the metal gate before you starts rolling to the side, pushed by invisible hands. It’s like a curtain going up at the theater. 

Before you lies a wide, dusty yard, devoid of any plant life. The thick-trunked trees and lush grasses of the surrounding mountainside had been stripped down to the roots here. All that remains are a few weeds poking out around the base of the long metal buildings that ring the fence, and even those seem like an intrusion. People are making use of the space in whatever way they can. A group of people with matching cropped black ears and docked tails run past you in four straight lines, all perfectly in step with each other. Over to your right, there’s a pack of teenagers working in pairs to scale a ten-foot tall sheer wooden wall and in the center of the field, twenty kids are running through taekwondo forms, supervised by a widely smiling instructor.

You’re in awe of it all. Every single person is like a cog in a well-oiled machine, all in the same black tactical pants and compression shirt. You’d never seen so many hybrids in one place before and certainly not all of the same breed.

Mr. Seo places a hand in the center of your back, steering you away from staring and toward a squat cement building.You let him lead you.

“When we get inside,” the lawyer begins, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “Let me speak first. If we can get him to admit to breaching the contract right away, it’ll be much easier to get him to agree to a settlement.”

You frown at that. “Why would we settle?” You ask him. “It’s not like I need the money.”

“It’s a matter of principle, Ms. L/N.” He sighs, pulling open the heavy metal door and ushering you into the building. “He did something wrong, and it’s most easy for him to bear the brunt of atonement financially. Without requiring damages be paid for breaches, contract law would collapse.” 

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

Mr. Seo’s mouth twists up like he’s just tasted something unpleasant. “As you attorney, it is my duty to advise you against accepting restitution in the form of an apology. You’ll get a reputation for being a pushover.” 

You wanted to be anything but. “Alright, alright,” you concede, “Do whatever you think is best.”

The building you’ve ducked into seems to be an office. Along one wall are a set of metal folding chairs doing their best impression of a waiting room. Along the other is a metal door covered in peeling paint and one suspicious dent bearing a plaque that reads ‘DIRECTOR LIM’. Set between you and it is a desk covered in a mess of paperwork. An old desktop stands among it like an island in the ocean and middle aged hybrid woman in coke bottle glasses is hunched before it, tapping away at the keyboard at a mind-boggling speed. One of her ears twitches as the pair of you approach. 

“Take a seat,” she orders in a reedy voice, not bothering to look up from her work. “The Director will be with you shortly.”

“Send them in, Eunjung!” Someone shouts from behind the metal door  just as she’s finished. She doesn’t look up or stop typing or even acknowledge you two again. Mr. Seo takes it upon himself to breeze past her desk and open the door for you. 

The office is militaristically organized, all right angles and bare metal surfaces. There’s a black leather couch that’d seen better days to your left as you enter, a half empty water cooler to your right. Bookshelves lined with trophies and textbooks dominate the western wall. You scan the titles as you pass: Predatory Instinct: The Teaching and Training Canines, The Utility of Force, On Raising Hybrids, The Art of War, all dangerous and daunting as the man they belonged to.

Lim Hangyeol is the most grizzled man you’ve ever seen and the only other human besides yourself and Mr. Seo in the compound, it seems. He looks like a drill sergeant from an old action movie, his salt and pepper hair buzzed short and his face craggy with frown lines. There’s a semicircle of pockmark scars marring the skin of his right cheek and as you get closer, you realize they’re teeth marks. You shoot a concerned look to Mr. Seo, but he’s more focused on giving the director a shallow bow than allaying any of your fears. 

“Director,” He says, straightening back up. “Thank you for having us-”

“Spare me the bullshit,” The older man orders, kicking back his office chair and sinking back into it. “Take a seat. Let’s talk business.” 

A cold smile settles on your attorney’s lips and you see a cord twitching in his jaw, but he merely nods and replies in a breezy voice, “Of course.” 

The two of you do as you told, settling into two metal chairs in front of his desk. These ones are nicer than the folding ones in the waiting room, but no more comfortable. You try to slide yours forward only to find that it’s bolted to the floor. 

“Stops the dogs from throwin’ em when they get bad news,” Director Lim tells you as you uselessly tug at the legs. “Got tired of replacing windows.”

You grimace. If the awards on the bookshelf, what Mr. Seo had told you and the dozens of hybrids running boot camp drills outside were any indication, the man before you must’ve had some idea what he was doing. You didn’t end up providing security for high profile public figures without a smidge of credibility, you knew, but the bite marks on his cheek, the little crack about people throwing chairs at him and the way he’d referred to them as ‘dogs’ didn’t inspire confidence in you. 

This was your first time visiting a place that produced hybrids, you realized. You’d never even been into a shelter before and certainly not a breeding center. Were they all like this? Devoid of anything soft or comforting, rigid with rules and regulations? Had Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung come from a place like this? You don’t know and you’re not sure you’d like the answer if you did. 

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” Mr. Seo starts, popping open the hinges on his briefcase and pulling out a few sheaves of paper. “After the sudden cancellation of your company’s contract with Ms. L/N, I was concerned for the state of our business relationship.” He slides one of the packets across the desk to the director. 

“If I remember correctly,” Director Lim says, scanning the lines of ink and unintelligible legalese, “Me and your boss signed for delivery, not me and whoever this little girl is you brought.” 

Your eyes narrow and your lips curl, but before you can give voice to the nasty thing crawling up your throat, Mr. Seo gives a subtle shake of his head and taps you twice on the knee, out of eyeshot of the director. You grumble, but cage it behind your teeth. 

“See?” The man jabs one gnarled finger at the page, right over your late uncle’s flourishing signature. “It says it right there: L/N Oliver. Last I checked, he was dead. I’m not holding on to a dead man’s dogs. ”

That same muscle tenses in Mr. Seo’s jaw. “The contract states that Black Mountain Canines would deliver the hybrids my client purchased to his residence on December the eighteenth and that they would be received by a proxy if he was unavailable. You were made aware of the fact that he was unavailable, as well as the fact that he now has a proxy-

“I’ll pay the goddamn fine!” The Director barks, throwing his hands up in the air. “Christ above, I don’t know why he wanted those two fuck-ups in the first place, but I don’t want them on my property a second longer.” 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look of confusion, but he just watches, blasé, as the Director rifles through his desk drawers. The man finds what he’s looking for and drops two manila folders on top of the contract. “The pair of them are useless. If it weren’t for my reputation, I’d’ve had them both sent to shelters years ago. Or put down, but you know how touchy the law is about that.”

“I don’t.” You say, your voice edging dangerously close to a snarl. It slips out before you can stop it. Mr. Seo shoots you a warning look and you ball your fists up in your sweater sleeves, fingernails biting crescent moons into your palms with the effort of keeping your mouth shut. 

You can’t stand this man, you decide. He’s awful. You should’ve known that from the moment you saw elementary school aged hybrids stumbling through taekwondo drills with their ears taped and bandages on their tails. You’re going to take whatever hybrids Oliver bought, get them the fuck out of there and never look back. 

If Director Lim had heard you growl at him, he gives no sign of it, just flips open the folders. “To be honest, I should be paying you to take them off my hands. They’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since they aged out of training. I told your uncle he could have his pick of the litter for what he was paying, but he wanted a wide-eyed buffoon and a mutt who’d rip your hand off soon as look at you.” Clipped to the insides are photos of two men, staring back at you in black and white. 

One has the same black and tan cropped ears as every other hybrid you’ve seen thus far. Unlike them, he’s smiling. His eyes are little upturned crescent moons and he beams at you through the photo paper. There’s so much light in his face it’s nearly blinding. 

The other is not nearly as inviting. The photo is taken at an odd angle and it’s blurry at the edges, like whoever took it was much shorter than the subject and had to zoom in to even get the shot. His ears, larger than any of the other hybrids and longer furred, are pinned back against his head. His jaw is clenched and he glowers down into the lens, one eye soot black and the other piercing blue. 

There are stats listed on the pages behind their photos: height, weight, shot records and the like. Among them, you see their call signs, highlighted in yellow: Hope and Monster. 

“I don’t know where I went wrong with him,” the director says, tapping Hope’s photo. “He went through all the training, passed all the tests, but when it comes down to it, he just doesn’t have the instinct.” He gives a single shake of his head, clicks the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “No one wants a guard dog that’d sooner talk an intruder’s ear off than actually guard what he’s supposed to. He’s not good for much but nannying the pups, but he’s too soft on them too.”

A light bulb clicks on and you realize the hybrid in question had been the one instructing the kids outside in the center of the yard, his tail wagging a mile a minute as they completed another form correctly.

“Now this bastard…” the director continues, jamming a finger onto the second photo with so much force, it rattled the cup of pens on his desk. “Is my biggest failure.” He crosses his arms and kicks back in his chair, his dislike of the hybrid in question obvious. “His mother was the cornerstone of this facility for nearly a decade. I sold her pups to assemblymen and actors alike. Centers around the country wanted pups with her genetics. If it weren’t for her, we’d never have grown to this size.” He sounds wistful as he spreads his hands out, gesturing around himself like a king taking in his holdings. “But all good things come to an end,” He sighs. “A pack of wild hybrids settled a little higher up on the mountain.” His face darkens and his lips twist. “Wolves,” he snarls with all the disdain he can muster. 

“All that about them being noble and self-sacrificing? Complete and utter bullshit,” He scoffs. “They’re transient lowlifes who’d slit your throat as soon as look at you. At first I didn’t care. They stayed on their side of the mountain and I stayed on mine, but then they started sneaking down here at night to steal my food and fuck my dogs. By the time I managed to get the cops out here, they’d cleared out and my top breeder had gone with them.”

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “I tell you, I thought I was ruined. But wouldn’t you know it, she came stumbling back here six months later, barefoot and howling to be let in and heavy with some wild thing’s pup.” Director Lim snaps both the folders shut and slides them to you across the desk. “The thing about breeding hybrids is, the money’s all in the bloodlines. No one wants a dog with mystery genetics. The only way to solve that problem is to cut it off at the root- but it was already too late by the time she got here.” 

You feel sick to your stomach. You hope he isn’t implying what you think he is- that hybrid children he hadn’t planned out himself were mistakes in need of correction- but you know he is. Deep in your gut you know.

“And she spoiled him. She let him run roughshod over everyone and everybody in this compound. I tried telling her wild hybrids need a firmer hand- he certainly did if we were gonna break that wolf he’s got inside him, but she wouldn’t hear it. I tried to crop him with the other pups his age, he gave me these,” he said, gesturing to the teeth marks in his cheeks. “We keep him shut up away from the others, now, in the back when he can’t bother anyone. He gets his meals delivered but we don’t ever let him out.” The grizzled man shakes his head. “A drain on resources is what he is.”

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly. 

“Eunjung?” he questions. “You met her on the way in.” The director stands and unclips a ring of keys from his belt buckle, making his way around the desk and gesturing for you and Mr. Seo to follow. “I’ve got her doing desk work now. Gotta keep her close so she doesn’t cause any more trouble.” He pushes open the door to his office, barks something at his secretary and steps outside, not looking back to see if you two are following. 

You shoot Mr. Seo a look before you stand and he meets it, evenly. “We’ll discuss this in the car,” he says, stuffing papers back into his briefcase and flicking the clasps shut. Oh, you most certainly will discuss ‘it’ in the car. 

You don’t really know what it is or where to even begin. The kids with bandaged ears? The fact that Director Lim seemingly decided who was allowed to see the sun and who wasn’t? You think back to the conversation you’d had with Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi last night. Right now, it seems years away, in some unreachable, idyllic past before you knew how breeding centers worked and how security hybrids were made. You feel foolish. Who were you to try to get them to let go of their pain and their hurt? If what they’d been through was even a little like what was going on here, they wouldn’t be able to for a long time. You’re angry. You’re disgusted. You are unquantifiably fucking sad. 

You pass Eunjung on your way out. In your time in the director’s office, she’s pulled her ash brown hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Peeking out of the collar of her sweatshirt you can see a faded scar in the shape of a ring, little puncture marks pale and glossy. It looked similar to the one on the director’s cheek, but this one was a complete circle and not ragged at all, like she’d stayed completely still while it was given. Teeth marks. 

You swallow. You want to do something, to give her some words of encouragement, but you have no idea what to say. You still don’t as you slow to a stop beside her desk, but you open your mouth to speak anyway. “I’m sorry,” You tell her, with all the sincerity in your heart. 

She doesn’t answer, but one cropped ear flicks toward you and her fingers slow in their incessant race across her keyboard. 

You turn to go. Mr. Seo was holding the door open for you and you can hear the director barking orders at a group of trainees to run an obstacle course faster. Just as you set foot over the threshold, she speaks. Her voice is so quiet, you have to strain to hear her over the steady clack-click-clack of her nails on the keys. 

“He likes green things,” she says, not looking up from her work. “And old books.” 

You look over your shoulder at her. Her face is a mask of neutrality, her eyes clear and her mouth set in a relaxed line. She looks fine, but there’s an ocean of meaning behind her words. You see her, just for a moment, as she’d been all those years ago, barefoot in the snow and begging for shelter, her stomach full with one of the moon’s own children. You commit the sight of her to memory. Then you turn and you go.

The director is waiting outside, shielding his eyes from the sun and regaling Mr. Seo with some long-winded explanation on the best way to treat hip dysplasia in Doberman hybrids. “Where to?” you ask, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. 

The man gives you a disgruntled look but despite the anxiety you feel spiking in your belly, you meet it evenly. Once upon a time, anyone in a position of authority looking at you the way he was would’ve sent you into a tailspin of self-doubt and nerves, leaving you shivering as your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, warning you of non-existent danger. If you were honest, it still did- but you didn’t have the luxury of running away and hiding anymore, not when there were people who needed you. 

“Hope’s bags are in the barracks. He just needs to grab them, and he can be on his merry way,” The direction grunts. “Monster’s still locked up, so I’ll-”

“I’ll go.” You can feel Mr. Seo stiffen beside you. 

“Ms. Y/N-”

“If he’s really that aggressive,” you start, your eyes not leaving the director’s for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to meet him now instead of when we’re packed into a car on a two hour car ride?” Director Lim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t falter. You hold your hand out for the key. Your boldness surprises you. He drops the key ring into your open palm and you wrap your fingers around it, stuffing it in your pocket before he can snatch them back. You turn on your heels and march off in the direction he tilts his head in, nothing but a hiss of your name from Mr. Seo’s lips to accompany you. 

You walk quickly, eyes straight and willing your legs to go faster with every stride. It’s a long way across the compound but the less time you spend walking, the less time you have to stew in anxiety. None of the hybrids training in little packs spread across the yard pay you any mind- except for Hope. 

Your path takes you directly behind the group of kids he’s working with. You give them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb them, but you get a little distracted. Your steps slow for just a moment as you drink him in. He’s tall- the same height as Taehyung, if you’re judging it right, but there’s an ease about him the tiger hybrid hasn’t yet mastered. Everything about Taehyung is pulled in. He’s always coiled tight, like he’s preparing to spring forward at any moment, all his energy drawn into the center of his being. Even last night, when you’d been cuddled up with him on the couch, he’d pulled you tight against his side, shifting and rearranging himself til you both fit on one cushion. He’d held you tight through both films, his tail curled around the both of you and his spine tight, like if he let himself relax for a moment, you’d both turn to dust on the wind. 

Hope has no such fear. Everything about him is spread wide open, from the heart-shaped smile on his lips to his arms as he demonstrates a series of punches to his little pack of students. They all watch him with rapt attention, ears perked up and bandaged tails wagging. One of them asks him a question and he laughs, ruffles their hair. He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, shoulders shaking like he can’t contain the force of it alone. It makes your heart flip. 

His ears twitch, picking up the change in the cadence of your footsteps. He looks up and your eyes meet for the first time. He looks surprised to see you, for a moment, face blank- but then it melts into a soft smile, brimming with affection you’ve done nothing to earn. You snatch your gaze away and fix it to the dirt in front of you, embarrassed at being caught. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him cock his head to the side in confusion, but he doesn’t go after you. All the better, you’re all but running away from him now. 

You shuffle across the compound in a blur of scuffed sneakers and frayed nerves. You barely give yourself time to look up at the small cinder block building before you, shoving the key in the padlock before you can lose what unearned confidence you have left. You twist it, yank the rusted thing open, take a deep breath and enter.

You don’t know what you’d been expecting, but it’s certainly not what you find. The way Director Lim had spoken about him and this place, you’d been expecting cobwebs on the ceiling, blood spatters on the wall and rusty nails on the floor. What’s before you is almost entirely the opposite.

The room is a veritable Eden. 

There are vines climbing every available wall, wrapping around structural posts and digging their way between concrete blocks. Every surface is crammed full of flowering plants in makeshift pots: lilies in old water jugs, violets in a worn out boot, black-eyed susans dripping orange petals from an upturned helmet. The floor is in a similar state, ferns and foxgloves turning what little space around his bed there is into a meadow. It’s beautiful. 

“He likes green things,” you marvel, stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind you. It seemed every living thing that’d been uprooted to expand the compound had found a second life here, sheltered from the Director’s violence. Maybe the hybrid who lived here had too. 

A plant different from all the others catches your eye. It’s set up on the cardboard box serving as his bedside table and it’s the only one in a real pot from what you can tell. It looks just like a miniature tree, complete with knobs on it’s trunk and tiny leaves. You let out a little sound of wonder and crouch in front of it, your fingers reaching out on their own to trail across the delicate branches-

A massive hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you cold. “Don’t touch that.” 

You hadn’t heard him approach, but now you knew he was there. You could feel his presence behind you, heavy and warm. He’s looming over you. You swallow and make your arm go limp in his grip. No need to give him a reason. “I won’t,” You tell him. “Will you please let go of my wrist?”

He drops your arm without protest and relief floods your body. You weren’t sure if there was a hybrid version of lockjaw and you certainly weren’t itching to find out. You sit back on your heels and struggle to your feet, still hyper aware of the person behind you, his eyes boring holes into the back of your head. By the time you turn around, he’s back where he came from, standing in the entrance for a bathroom you hadn’t seen, half hidden behind a curtain of vines. 

He looks different than the others. You’d been expecting that, but the full-length fluffy tail held stiffly behind his back and the long-furred ears pointed away from you are still a surprise. His fur, instead of being in rigid black and tan points, is marked by whorls of black, brown and gray. Instead of the lean musculature all the other hybrids had -all trim waists and narrow ankles- he’s sturdier, his shoulders broad and the veins in his forearms popping as he clenches his fists. He’s looking at you with that mismatched glare, his chin tilted toward his chest and his eyes shining aquamarine and obsidian. 

“If you’re new,” he starts, voice raspy. “They should’ve told you: you’re supposed to knock before you come in.”

“No, I’m not-”

“You can leave the food over there.” He nods toward a little plastic folding table jammed into one corner. It’s the one surface in his room that’s devoid of plants and there’s nothing on it besides a metal cafeteria tray, licked clean. “I won’t move when your back is turned.”

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

He frowns, brows drawing together as his shoulders tense. “Then why are you…?”

You ball your hands up in your sweater sleeves and turn to face him full on. “I’m here to take you home with me.” You tell him. “They didn’t tell you?”

He laughs, but it’s a cold sound, devoid of joy. “Nobody tells me anything.”

Based on the short conversation you’d had with Director Lim, his sudden cancellation of contracts and the way he seemed ready to bulldoze over anything and everyone that didn’t fit his agenda, he didn’t seem the sharing type. Still it was hard to believe he hadn’t told him he’d be leaving the compound that’s been his home for over twenty years. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you add, softly. “If you don’t want to. I know I’m a stranger. But you can leave-”

“I can’t go anywhere.” He taps the collar around his neck. At first, you’d thought it was the same as the ones every other hybrid had been wearing. You can see now that it isn’t. Theirs had all been leather with thin silver buckles holding them in place. His was leather too, but the band was broader and double-layered. There’s a little box on the side with hinges and a small drawing of a lighting bolt. A shock collar. 

Your stomach turns. 

You take a slow step toward him, but the second you do, his ears go flat against his head and he pulls his lips back, revealing sharp teeth. You freeze, hands held up and the keys dangling from your thumb. “I have the keys,” you say, extending them toward him. 

His eyes flick from your face, to the keys in your hand and back again, like he doesn’t believe what’s happening, like he can’t believe you’d actually want him free. The silence drags out into a little eternity before he speaks again. “If I try to unlock it, it’ll shock me.”

You blink up at him and risk another slow step forward, hoping you’ve caught his meaning correctly. This time, he doesn’t growl but his ears stay pinned back as he watches you through narrowed eyes. You close the distance between the two of you. 

When you were six, your mom scraped together enough money to take you to Busan for your birthday. You’d spent the day down at the beach, building sand castles with sea shell windows and wading through tide pools. After the sun had set, someone had set off fireworks and you’d watched them cuddled up in your mom’s arms, eyes wide and filled with a riot of colors you had no name for. It’s strange, you know. The ocean is miles away, but that’s what he smells like: the sea and the sand, and the last curls of smoke from homemade bottle rockets. He smells like that day. 

You lift your hands to the clasp on his neck and slide the key home. You twist it and the collar falls to the ground, a monster that can’t hurt him anymore. His skin is warm under your fingers, but puckered with scar tissue. There’s a ring of it around his neck, branching with whatever current had run through him in different directions. There’s no way this was legal, no way anyone with half a heart could treat another person like this. Your fingers trail one of the splits over his adam’s apple and he swallows beneath your touch, snatching your wrist again. 

“Dont.” His voice is cold. You blink, shaking off whatever spell you’d been under and shuffle back quickly, eager to give him space. He cradles his throat with one long-fingered hand, massaging the skin. He rolls his neck and you look away. You shouldn’t stare; the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable. “I’ll go with you,” he rasps, answering the question before you can ask it again.

You gape for a second. You really hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Really?” You can’t stop a note of relief from creeping into your voice.

“Anywhere’s better than here.” He answers back. So, you were a means to an end. It doesn’t bother you. You’ll be whatever you need to be to get him away from this place and that man who seemed to only want to drive him down. 

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

He gives a firm shake of his head. “There’s nothing from this place I want to keep.” And that’s the end of it. You push open the door and stride back out into the cold mountain air, trying your best to exude the confidence you know you lack. The hybrid slinks behind you, head hunched between his shoulders and every step stiff. He hesitates at the threshold and looks up at you, uncertainty written in the rigid line of his spine. He’s nervous. He has every right to be. 

How long had he spent in that little cinderblock room, shut away from every living thing? How long had he spent being told that he was a monster? You didn’t believe it, not for one second. No one who was as violent as the director had painted him out to be could’ve raised that garden. 

He leans out of the door frame, sniffs the air and lurches forward, out of the shadow of his room, His shoulders bunch up even higher around his head and he goes stiff like he’s waiting for a shock or a shot or a shout- but none comes. The sun is still shining and he’s barefoot in the sand, standing for the first time in years under the open sky. He exhales in a short puff and it looks like he’s going to walk beside you- but he turns on his heels on goes back inside. 

You make a little noise of distress in the back of your throat. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to come with you anymore? You go to call his name out of concern- but realize you don’t know it. All you have is the call sign he’d been given and you sure as fuck aren’t calling him ‘Monster’. You don’t have to flounder for long. He comes back out two seconds later, cradling the bonsai that’d caught your attention to his chest. 

“I’ll take this,” he mutters, shuffling into place behind you. You can’t smother the smile that starts tugging at your lips. Yeah, no one hateful would hold a little tree with as much tenderness as an infant. 

You give him a little nod. “There’s a terrace where I live,” you tell him, starting your trek across the yard once again. “It’s got a garden and a little greenhouse on it. It’s not very big, and it’s not as pretty as your’s, but you could grow new things there, if you wanted.”

His ears twitch in response, but he keeps his glower firmly focused on the plant in his arms as he shuffles along beside you. It’s then you notice he’s barefoot. “Do you wanna go back and get your shoes?” You ask, trying to make the question sound as innocuous as possible.

“Don’t have any,” he grumbles back. “Don’t need them; I never go outside.” 

Alright, that was understandable. Your first stop when you got back into the city would be a shoe store to get him a pair to wear- or maybe not with the way he kept flinching every time a whistle blew and his ears were swivelling like satellites at each new sound that reached them. You chew the inside of your lip. You don’t want to ask, but you know you should. Better to rip the bandaid off now, than get surprised later. “How long were you shut in for?”

“Fourteen.” He bites out. 

“...weeks?” You venture. There's a hopeful uptick at the end of your words. Even that would’ve been horrible, even that would be worthy of the litany of profanity you’re mentally lobbing at Director Lim- but it’s still better than the truth. 

The hybrid cuts a flat look at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Years.” 

A wall of your scent hits him like a freight train, vacillating between the thick, cloying odor of sadness and the burn of anger. His nose wrinkles at it, brows drawing together in confusion. 

However little you might’ve known about hybrids, however limited your view of them was, you knew they weren’t supposed to be locked up. Domesticated hybrids like hamsters and cats might’ve been fine inside a house all day, assuming they still had regular interaction with people- but dogs weren’t. And he was half wolf. Wild, he’d have had dozens of square miles to roam over, and he’d been limited to a four-by-four yard room for fourteen years. Your goshiwon was a similar size, but it hadn’t been your whole world. All he’d had was one tiny window and what narrow view he’d managed to glimpse in the doorway when his meals were delivered. 

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but you’re cut off by a scream of delight and a snarl keying up in the hybrid next to you’s chest. Your jaw snaps shut with a click. 

A few yards ahead, there’s a group of kids wrestling in a massive pile. They’re all giggling and rolling over each other, tails wagging a mile a minute as they play bite and make grabs for the person at the center of their puppy pile. A head of black hair and a pair of cropped ears pop up and you see that it’s Hope, smiling bright as the sun as his students try to pin him. 

“You can’t leave!” One particularly determined kid yips, adamantly pushing his shoulder back to the sand. “Who’s gonna teach us?”

Hope just laughs.”Lisa is gonna teach you with the older kids-“

A chorus of disappointed barks and howls breaks out. “Ms. Lisa’s classes are too hard!” A little girl complains.

“Yeah!” Someone else chimes in. “And she’s strict!” 

The hybrid ruffles both kid’s hair affectionately, careful of their bandaged ears. “Just because she won’t let you get away with skipping night practice doesn’t mean she’s strict,” he laughs. He’s only met with more grumbles and complaints. 

It warms your heart to see. Even if these kids were at the mercy of their director -for now, at least- it was good that they had him to rely on. Your eyes meet and the sheer force of light in his face makes your own heat up. You look away, but he’s spotted you. He disentangles himself from the mess of kids and draws himself up to his full height. He’s in the same uniform he was in before, albeit with a black tactical bag now strapped to his back. He takes a step toward you and the wolfdog hybrid's ears go flat against his skull. He’s not deterred. “Joonie?”  It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to the hybrid next to you. “Kim Namjoon, is that you?” Hope takes one step forward and the hybrid - Namjoon - takes a step back to counter him. Hope looks like he’s going to advance again, but a small pair of hands wrapped around one of his own stops him. 

A little girl is holding on to him. She can’t be more than six years old. Her tail is still long and her ears are still floppy and she looks so small in her child-sized boots and cargo pants. “Mr. Hobi,” she whines, her head craned back to look up at him. “Please don’t go.”

He falters. His eyes flick from the pair of you back down to her, then he crouches, holds both of her hands in his. “I have to, Sowon-ah,” he says softly. 

She sniffles pitifully and juts out her lower lip.”But why?” 

It’s a fair question. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to come with you if he  doesn’t want to, but he beats you to the punch. “Because it’s my job, sweetheart,” he tells her, smiling softly.

“Y-your job is to teach us,” she hiccups back, face growing blotchy as tears well up in her eyes. Hope swipes one of them away with his thumbs. 

“I teach you so you can grow up well and protect your person, right?” She nods, little hands balling the fabric of her cargo pants up in her fists. “Right. Well this,” he continues, turning and looking at you with a soft smile. “Is my person. And I’ve gotta go make sure she stays safe.” 

You feel your heart jump into your throat. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and you don’t deserve it. You’ve done nothing to warrant that much unearned loyalty. Sowon rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and Hope pulls her into a tight hug. 

“Ah, don’t cry, Sowon! You’ve gotta make sure you get stronger so someone takes you home, okay? You don’t wanna get old and still be here like me, right?” He squeezes her and goes to stand, but gets mobbed by his students again, all wanting their own hugs and making him swear to write them letters. It takes another five minutes of tearful goodbyes and Director Lim approaching for them to turn him loose.

“Get back to your training, all of you!” He barks, stomping out of the office and slamming the door, Mr. Seo on his heels. The kids scatter to the four winds almost instantly, not wanting to be underfoot for whatever scolding the director was about to deal out. Hope’s face remains the same but you catch his ears droop just a little as his students leave him. The wolfdog hybrid- Namjoon, you remind yourself- on the other hand has his ears flat against his skull. A growl bubbles up in his chest and rips past his lips. It’s a dark, full bodied thing that has you taking a step back and Hope shrinking with a whine. 

“Joonie-” he pleads. 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” All the fur on Namjoon’s body is standing on end, from the points of his ears to the tip of his tail. Even his hair has fluffed out. His mismatched eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals his incisors and all that fury, all that rage, is leveled on Director Lim. 

To his credit, the grizzled man doesn’t shrink back an inch before the enraged hybrid. His lips twist and he yanks a little remote out of his pocket, mashing a red button in the center. Namjoon flinches, his hands fly to his neck- but nothing happens. The shock collar is gone and the director has no power over him anymore. 

The man in question’s eyes widen, flicking between the remote to the column of Namjoon’s throat, now devoid of his one element of control. “Where’s his collar?” He demands. “How the hell did you get your collar off?” He advances on the tall hybrid, his hand in the air and though he doesn’t stop snarling, Namjoon ducks his head, anticipating the blow. 

You don’t know what moves you. Maybe it’s Hope pleading for it all to ‘stop, just stop!’. Maybit’s how Namjoon knows exactly how to move when he’s about to get hit. Maybe it’s your own lack of self-preservation. Whatever it is, you blink and you’re in front of Namjoon, your hand up and clutching the director’s forearm, stopping him from striking the hybrid behind you. You’re not strong enough to stop him, not fully. Your elbow buckles in and you stumble back, your back pressing into the wolfdog hybrid’s chest.

The director yells something at you, red flooding his face. You can’t hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. You force a dry swallow down your throat, put on your bravest face and glare up at him. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

He reaches out with his free hand to tug you out of the way, but before he can touch you, Hope is there. He presses close to your side and holds the director’s wrist firm, his eyes on the sand and his shoulders hunched up by his ears.

Director Lim looks angry enough to spit. “Hell of a time for you to grow a backbone,” he snarls at Hope, making the doberman hybrid flinch. “I want all four of you off my property now.” He snatched his arms free and you don’t miss the nasty glare he casts at Namjoon. “And if this mutt ever shows his face around here again, I’ll-”

“Director Lim,” Mr. Seo cuts in, his voice cool. “You’ve made yourself clear; we’ll leave. You needn’t make threats.” There’s an underlying warning in the attorney’s voice. The director locks his jaw.

“Get out.” He breathes. Hope ducks around him, his head low and his docked tail pressed close to his back. If he could tuck it, you think he would. You follow after him, eyes fixed straight ahead and your back ramrod straight. He might’ve scared the shit out of you, but you weren’t going to let him see that. Mr. Seo fixes you with a hard look and the second you’re within arms reach, he presses a hand to your back and ushers you toward the gate. The only one who remains is Namjoon.

He looks like his anger has rooted him to the spot. His ears are still flat against his head, his lip still curled. 

“Do it, boy,” the director taunts. “Give me a reason-”

“Namjoon.” At the sound of his name, his ears prick up and you turn around. It’d come not from Hope- which you’d expected, seeing as he seemed to be the only one who actually knew his fellow hybrid’s name- but from the open door of the office building where Eunjung stood. She looks at him, her expression unreadable and he stares back. All the tension in his body has shifted and for a moment, you think he’s going to spring toward her and fall into her arms- but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and his face hardens. His arms tighten around his bonsai. You think you know, now, why it was the only plant in his room that had a pot. 

“Go,” she says and all the tension leaves him. His shoulders curve in and he drags himself past the director, out from the fence and toward Mr. Seo’s car. There’s something final about the way the gate rolls shut after him. If you hadn’t known better, you’d’ve sworn you heard him whine as it locked. 

The car ride down the mountain is...interesting to say the least. Hope insists that the seating arrangements inside the Buick be done to his specifications,( “You’ve gotta sit in the middle,” he tells you, pointing to the narrow center seat. “And Joonie and I will sit on either side of you to protect you in case we crash!” His tail is wagging a mile a minute behind him. You’re surprised it can move that much, given how short it is. Mr. Seo looks affronted at the unintentional jab at his driving and Namjoon just looks irritated. “I told you to stop calling me that.”) and he keeps throwing an arm across your middle everytime the car hits a bump. You’re going down the side of a mountain. There are a lot of bumps. He also keeps pressing his nose against the glass of his window, ears pricked up and trying to take in every tree that passes by. Namjoon, on the other hand, slouches back in his seat, his body curved around his plant and ever so slightly away from you. He still watches the world pass by, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of you or speak- which would be fine if anyone else would. Hope seems to be doing his best to appear stoic and alert every time you look at him and Mr. Seo seems comfortable with the quiet. So, you’re left to ride the two hours back to Seoul in silence. 

You almost cry with relief when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. You fish the device out of your pocket, thumb it to life and scan your notifications.

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

You frown. Very few people had your number or any reason to text you. You’re about to chalk it up to a wrong number when the second text rolls in.

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

Now that’s a surprise. When you’d hurriedly told the boys to text you, you’d been expecting Jimin to urge you to hurry or for Taehyung to ask for updates, not for their hyung to check your progress. A little smile pricks at your lips as you rush to reply

You [7:14 PM] We’re on the way back now!

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi 

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

You bite the inside of your lip, suddenly nervous. You know there’s no reason to be. After all, you tell yourself, what’s scary about a pair of roommates talking on the phone? You give him the go ahead and not three seconds after the delivered notification pops up, you get a call. You answer it on speaker.

“...Hello?”

“Did you just start driving?” Yoongi’s voice is thick with sleep, like he’s just woken up. It’s different than normal, his usual smooth drawl gone gravelly. 

“Y-yeah,” you reply, trying to ignore the way Hope is watching you out of the corner of his eyes and Namjoon’s ears have swiveled back toward you. “It’s gonna be awhile, still. Are Taehyung and Jimin-”

“They’re fine; They ate dinner earlier and they’ll be asleep til you get back.” He yawns and you picture him slouched on the couch, his hair mashed up on one side and his face puffy.  “Why do you sound nervous?”

“I’m not,” you counter. It’s a blatant lie and he knows it. He hums in doubt, but doesn’t press you.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Do you want me to text you when we’re close?” It’s an innocuous question. There’s no reason you can see for him to pause as long as he does. For a second you think you’ve lost him- after all, mountains aren’t known for having great reception- but then you hear his breath fan over the receiver. 

“...Yeah.” 

You give a little nod you know he can’t see. “Okay.” He makes a little noise of assent and then his line clicks off. You hang up. Just as you do, another text comes through. 

Yoongi [7:16 PM] don’t let them scent you

“Who was that?” Hope asks in a small voice, pulling you away from your phone screen and Yoongi’s insistence that you remain scent-free. His tone is open, but you can tell by the way his knee is bouncing that he really, really wants to know. “Is that your husband?”

The bark of laughter that rips past your lips is out before you can think to stop it. Namjoon flinches and you wince at him in apology, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Hope is frowning at you in confusion, his head cocked slightly to the side. You force yourself to calm and answer him. “No, Yoongi is not my husband.” You weren’t sure if you even really qualified as friends at this point. “He’s another hybrid that lives with me.”

Hope perks up in his seat. “You have another hybrid? Director Lim always told us that once we left the center, we’d be alone.” Your expression sours at the mention of the ill-tempered man and you shake your head. 

“No, there’s a lot of hybrids in Seoul,” you tell him, eager to dispel some of his misconceptions. “The three that live with me are named Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi’s around your age, I think. Jimin and Taehyung are younger.” The doberman hybrid sits at rapt attention, soaking up every bit of information you give him and waiting eagerly for more. What else could you tell him about them? You remember the boys’ reaction that morning when you told them you’d be bringing dog hybrids home. “...They’re all felines,” you say, slowly, trying to gauge their reactions. 

“So that’s why you smell like that.” It’s the first words Namjoon’s spoken since you all piled into the car. You turn to him, but he’s not looking at you.

“What do you-?”

“You smell like other hybrids,” Hope says, covering for him. “But I’ve never smelled any that weren’t other dogs before.” He leans closer, his seatbelt stretching. You tense and lean away from him, but he’s not deterred. The tip of his nose brushes your neck and you have to fight off a shiver as he breathes you in. “They smell the same…” he starts, his breath fanning over your throat. “...but different? And one of them isn’t as strong as the others-” He presses closer, trying to catch the scent that’s eluding him. You make a noise of mild distress and lean further back, pressing into the solid wall that is Namjoon. 

“Hoseok, let it go .” Hoseok. That was his real name then. To your surprise, the dog hybrid pulls back as instructed, settling back into his seat without so much as a whine.

“I’ve never met a cat before,” he muses, turning his attention back to the window. “I hope they’re nice.”

You think about the chorus of hisses you’d been met with when you told the boys they’d have to share their space. You hope so too.

It’s 9:30 by the time Mr. Seo drops you off back in front of your building. He wishes you a good night and promises to call later in the week to discuss Black Mountain Canines. You’re not sure if there’s anyone to report him to or anything you can do, but you want to try. What you’d seen at the compound was wrong any way you looked at it. It made you sick to leave anyone there knowing how the director treated Namjoon and Hoseok. No one was useless. No one deserved to be locked away for years at a time for the sheer crime of existing. You’d make them see that. 

The moment you step out of the car, Hoseok is all wide smiles and exclamations. “Woah, you live here?” he asks, tilting his head back to take in all fifty-one floors of Haneul Tower in their sparkling, glass-paned glory.

“Yeah,” you tell him, handing him his bag. In his excitement to get out of the car, he’d abandoned it and Mr. Seo had nearly driven away with it. “But I just moved in a couple days ago, so it’s still pretty empty.”

Hoseok nods, scanning the windows like he’ll be able to pick out which one’s your’s. Behind you, Namjoon is lingering on the sidewalk.

He’s still got his bonsai clutched close to his chest and he’s hunched down around it like he’s trying to stop unseen hands from picking at it. His shoulders are bunched up by his ears, and he flinches with every car horn, every siren that comes to you on the wind. He’d grown up in the mountains and spent the better part of his life indoors. It only made sense that he’d be sensitive to the sounds of the city. 

“Is there a security system?” Hoseok asks, still enamored with the building. “How many entrances does your apartment have?”

“Just one second,” you tell him, forehead wrinkling as you take in Namjoon. You slide slowly toward the wolfdog, not wanting to startle him. “Namjoon?” He flinches when you call his name, head whipping toward you. “Do you wanna go inside? I know it’s new, but it’ll be quieter, I think.”

His mismatched eyes flick from you, to Hoseok, to the building and back to you before settling firmly on the concrete at his feet. He seems different than he had in the mountains. He’s smaller, quieter, less sure of himself. Was it because this is all new territory for him? Or had the snarling hybrid in the mountains just been a roll he was forced to play, the mythic monster to the director’s tyrant king. 

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” you tell him, in a voice you hope is reassuring. “We can wait, if you need to.”

“I’ll wait with you, Joonie,” Hope chimes in, giving the larger hybrid the same soft smile he’d given his students earlier. 

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It...it’s fine,” he mutters, “We can go in, I just…” He takes a few hesitant steps forward and huddles closer to you. There’s still an inch between you, but it’s closer than you’d thought he’d come. 

You peer up at him. “Okay?” You ask. He gives a single nod and your little group moves through the double doors and into the lobby. 

It’s quieter at this time of night. You don’t recognize the woman standing behind the reception desk. There’s no one really around except one man, pacing the width of the lobby looking thoroughly put out. You can’t really see his face, but there’s something familiar about the slant of his body. He whirls around as the glass doors click shut and you catch sight of a fringe of gray hair, pointed ears, narrowed yellow eyes and an all too familiar pout. 

Yoongi. 

“Fuck.” You’d completely forgotten to text him. Judging by the look on his face as he stalks toward you, he wasn’t happy about it. To his credit, Hoseok does his best to guard you, sliding in front of you and pushing you behind him. You can’t see Yoongi’s ears beneath the hat he’s wearing but if his curled lip and narrowed eyes are any indicator, they’re pinned straight back. 

“Move.” He snarls at the doberman hybrid. Hoseok is taller than he is, but the closer Yoongi gets to him, the smaller he seems to shrink. There’s fire in the bobcat hybrid’s eyes. Hope whimpers and slinks out of his way, ears low. 

You wince. “Heeeeey, Yoongi. I’m sorry I forg-“ before you can even finish the sentence, he tugs you toward him by the shoulders. His face roves your neck, sniffing in earnest as he tries to pick up the scent of the other hybrids on you. All is well until he reaches the right side of your throat and grazes over the exact spot Hoseok had nosed earlier. He pulls away slowly, his shoulders tight. His head turns slowly to the doberman hybrid, mechanical. 

“You.” He hisses at the other hybrid with so much virulence it makes your blood run cold. He takes one step toward him, teeth bared in a snarl, but Namjoon slides in front of him bumping him back. A growl bubbles in the bobcat hybrid’s chest and the wolfdog matches it, both their ears pinned flat against their skulls. 

“Hey-” If either of them hear you, they don’t react. They’re too focused on having a staring contest. “Hey!” You push between them, a hand on either of their chests. Namjoon snarls as you touch him and Yoongi looks ready to skin him alive for that alone. He pushes against your hand, trying to get closer to the taller hybrid. You ball your hand up in the fabric of his shirt. “Stop it!” The receptionist already has the lobby phone in her hand. She’s whispering earnestly into it and you’re sure security will be on the way any second. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut. “Everybody, elevator.” 

Yoongi hurls an accusatory finger in Hoseok’s direction. “These fucking-”

“Yoongi, please,” you plead. That gets him to stop. His arm falls to his side and he glowers down at you for a few seconds before stalking over to the elevators and slamming the up button. “I’m sorry,” you murmur to Hoseok and Namjoon. The smaller of the two hybrids is still hunched in on himself and the taller has Yoongi fixed in his mismatched gaze, his lips curled in anger. 

This was not the way you wanted this to go. You’d wanted them to have time to settle before you discussed next steps and gave them the same talk you’d given the felines, but it didn’t look like that was in the cards. You don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi. You’d thought the bobcat hybrid was calm, cool and collected, completely unflappable in the face of anything. Apparently not. He seemed upset that some of Hoseok’s scent had gotten on you, but there’d been no way to help that. You’d been packed in a car with him and Namjoon for two hours. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?

“It’s not okay,” you tell them, wanting them to know you didn’t condone the way Yoongi had acted. “I don’t...I don’t know why he’s acting like this; he doesn’t normally. Do you wanna go up separately?”

It’s Hoseok who answers. “No, we’ll go up together,” he assures you with a small nod. “If...maybe if we get used to each other, it’ll be okay?” 

You’re not optimistic, but you give him a pained smile you hope is reassuring. “Yeah, maybe?” You cast a look back over your shoulders. Yoongi is waiting by the elevators, his arms crossed over his chest and his tail flicking in irritation. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Well, there was no avoiding it. “Come on,” you tell them. “Just...keep to the other side, for now. I’ll stand between you and him.” 

The four of you pile into the elevator, all tucked into your own corners. It’s strange, you think. It’s never seemed small until now. Hoseok keeps casting worried looks over at you, Namjoon keeps subtly shifting closer and Yoongi is still glowering at the both of them, angry for a reason you can’t quantify. 

“If it helps,” Hoseok starts softly, his voice an intrusion in the awkward silence. “I really didn’t mean to, honestly-”

“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon counters. “If it bothers him that much, he can speak up” 

You don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s too late that you realize the canines aren’t addressing you. Suddenly, Yoongi’s fingers are hooked through one of your belt loops. He yanks you backwards and you stumble, falling against the length of his body. “My bad,” You shoot out, before the hybrid can hiss at you. “I just lost my bala-” The words die on your tongue as Yoongi fixes his mouth to the soft skin of your throat. The elevator goes quiet.

The canine hybrids avert their eyes almost instantaneously, instinct telling them they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be. Yoongi keeps them fixed firmly in his sights, a dark growl bubbling in his throat. 

Your fingers flex uselessly at your sides, hands clenching unclenching as the hybrid works over the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth and tongue. ‘Don’t make a noise,’ you plead with yourself. ‘This isn’t what it feels like. Don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise, don’t make a noise-’ Yoongi’s incisors graze over a vein and a little whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. The grip he has on your hips becomes bruising. You feel your legs turning to jelly beneath you. Any more of what he was doing, and they’d have to mop you up off the elevator floor. You force your throat to swallow. “Y-Yoongi, I think that’s enough-” You don’t know if he hears you over the noise he’s making, so you lace your fingers through his and untangle them from your hips. He releases you with a wet pop and you slap a hand over the skin he’d marked. Heat floods your face and a smirk spreads across Yoongi’s, his teeth flashing at the canines. He leans in again to rub his nose against the mark he’d made- but a hand on his chest stops him. 

“Can you stop?” You ask in a small voice. Honestly, you’re embarrassed. Regardless of what the articles said about mark-making being platonic, it doesn’t feel friendly. It feels possessive and mean and you don’t like it. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you like you asked, but what is with you today?” Yoongi’s expression changes from smug satisfaction to confusion and then surprise, like he hadn’t expected you to protest. “I know what I said about you being ready but…” You rub a hand over the mark, wiping away saliva and your sweat. The bobcat hybrid visibly deflates. The elevator chimes for the fiftieth floor and the doors roll open slowly. You rush out before any of them can and start punching the code in your door with shaky fingers. You don’t know what to say. You’re tired and stressed and you don’t know what’s going on. Was this about the apartment? You knew the felines wouldn’t be happy about sharing their space, but why had Yoongi gone this far?

“Y/N…” He trails after you, his ears drooping. You shake your head, You can’t talk to him right now. 

“In the morning,” you tell him as the door swings open. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” You can’t deal with everything that’s happened today, and Yoongi flipping out and getting the canines settled. You weren’t that good at juggling. 

By the grace of all that’s merciful, Taehyung and Jimin are still asleep when you walk in. You’d need to have an extended meet and greet tomorrow, you decide. Maybe do some icebreakers or team building exercises. If they reacted anything like their hyung did, you were in for one hell of an adjustment period. 

Hoseok and Namjoon trail you into the penthouse warily, sniffing the air. You want to give them time to explore and get their bearings, they deserve that, but with the way Yoongi still seems agitated when they venture anywhere but exactly in your steps, that’ll need to be saved until tomorrow morning too. You give them the most spartan tour you can muster up and show them each to a guest room, promising to order them furniture and get them the things they need tomorrow. 

By the time you collapse into your own bed, it’s damn near 11. You groan and drag a pillow over your face as you ask the universe for the thousandth time why it had decided to continuously kick your ass. Having three hybrids had been hard enough. Having five of all different species was likely to prove impossible and having seven was going to be a sisyphean task you’d had no training for. You groan and kick your feet in the air, allowing yourself the brief respite of a temper tantrum before crawling under your covers and flicking the lamp off. Maybe in your dreams there’d be no stress and no snarling hybrids with behavior you couldn’t explain.

[agoodfriendtoyou]

NSR Swaps: Sayu

I forgot to post this lol. These are pretty fun. I also decided to do fight descriptions. Follow if you enjoy<3

You are welcome to use them, as long as you credit me.

Reblogs > Likes

Bunk bed junction — Sayu

The Sayu crew are older, with dodo being 24, sofa being 22, and remi and tila being 20

Rock band with a siren mascot

Sayu is much more aggressive, also acting as more sentient than her original.

I got a most of sayu’s new colors by inverting the original

Remi is the artist, Tila is the vocals, Dodo is the drummer, and Sofa plays the guitar

The reason they are rejected is both because rock is a old relic of the past, and “artists should not have to hide behind a screen to produce power

Dj Subatomic Supernova — Dj Electronic Extraterrestrial

Djee is a digital, alien, lo-fi Disk Jockey

Djee’s offstage name is Ele(pronounced “L”)

Ele often comes off more rude than she intends to

She also acts level headed, but hides a fiery temper

Her crew are all object heads. Dodo is a planet, remi is a brush, Sofa is a old computer, and tila is whatever Djss is.

Ele’s dj station is shaped like a ufo, and constantly flies away, you use projectile notes to shoot it down. She forms a solar system around her like the original Djss. When her dj station is destroyed in phase 3, she grows in size and uses the stage as a record. In her final phase the stage breaks into multiple pieces, and she snaps, flinging shards of vinyl that you can parry back, and during this phase her music is very glitchy. After you beat her, she glitches out of existence

Yinu — Flora

Flora is a opera singer who is a hard light projection

I had a completed, completely different design, and I hated it. So I started over

Remi is the artist who created Flora. He is very passionate about her and Tilas performances

Tila is a pianist, and the voice of sayu. She feels bad for remi, since he doesn’t get as much attention as her and Flora

Flora is very protective of Remi and Tila, and becomes destructive towards those who hurt them.

During phase 1 of Flora’s battle, it is only Tila and Remi on the stage. Remi draws a gate around the stage, keeping the players out. After this is destroyed, Flora descends to the stage, her presence forming thorny vines around Tila, and a rose around Remi. When Flora is down, her vines disappear so you can attack Tila. Once phase 3 begins, Flora is angered, petals wilting, eyes going white, and thorns sprouting from her neck down to her arms. She grows massive destroying the opera house. She forms a thorny cage around her and the players, rooting herself in the ground. She sinks beneath the stage, thorns sprouting along her path. Once she sprouts back up, you can attack her. After you defeat her, you try to do your finisher, Remi and Tila knocks you down from the platform. Flora is relived, but they snap at her, blaming Flora for ruining the concert. They attack you with scribbles and music notes.

After you knock them down, Flora catches them, missing Remi’s tablet and Tilas Piano. Once they land, Flora is furious at you, and is about to attack, but is brought back to sanity by a somber melody played by her two creators on the broken piano. She looks around at the destroyed opera house, and slowly walks back to the two, shrinking to her normal size. She and tila softly hum to the piano as Flora fades away.

1010 — Tonal

Tonal is a kids band. They mostly do covers, but have recently made a album of original songs.

Unlike 1010, they do not have hair weapons, they do have the blasters tho.

Sayu is their manager. She is a mermaid who lost her tail in the border wars. She also has a spare prosthetic tail.

When you enter the ship, Tonal gives you a surprisingly warm welcome. One of you is charmed by the child androids. After you destroy one of the bots, Sayu flies in on the flying factory, deploying misiles on the players. Tonal also forms shields around themselves. Once their face plates are destroyed, they greet horrified fans(children, mind you), and they explode. After seeing this, Sayu goes all out. Spinning blades, bombs, and lasers fill the air and ground. You must shoot her down.

After the factory crashes, Sayu goes on a tangent about the war, her creations, and why she fights for NSR. You leave halfway through.

Eve — Sayas

Sayu is a fish creature. She is also a sculptor primarily, and is one of the players ex bandmates

The same thing with Flora happened with Sayu, except her design still somewhat resembles the old one

She and the other player created four sculptures out of various materials , and with her magic, brought them to life.

Do is made of glass, Re is made of copper wire, So is made of clay, and La is hollow ceramic.

When you enter, the four sculptures are resting on a lavish, colorful couch, with a golden statue of NSR’s CEO behind it. Sayu sighs as one of you struggles to understand the concepts of the piece, and the sculptures leave the couch, and Sayu rises as herself instead of the couch, and the battle begins.

Phase 1 has you fighting Sayu on her own, the statues standing aside in the corners. After this phase, she isolates you both, with two of the statues you must fight. Her ex is in a hall themed around coral, and the pedestrian(s) are in a hall that looks like the bottom of a underwater trench. The trench has very little light, and the main one is used to illuminate Sayu. Once the glass is broken, the CEO’s statue is brought into the halls. The coral turns to menacing limbs, and the vents into a volcano. Once Sayu is beaten for the third time you run down an empty hall, the statues standing a last defense, destroying themselves in the process. Glass, wire, clay, and ceramic shards fly towards you in a frenzy. You both meet and Sayu is defeated.

The statues are broken, and Sayu leaves into a white void. Her former bandmate goes after her, comforting Sayu as she mourns the loss of the one thing she had left of their relationship. You explain to Sayu how she doesn’t need another person to be complete, and that she is strong on her own. You say your goodbyes and you both leave Sayu to ponder the words you said.

Tatiana — Siren Industries

Sayu is an abandoned project by the crew. She was a rock idol in her prime, but nobody knew who created her.

They split because Remi constantly went against what everyone else agreed on

Dodo, sofa, and tila made a new company, Siren Industries. Tila acts as the face of the company, managing social connections and political affairs, like the auditions. Sofa is behind the infrastructure of the city, approving construction in the districts. Dodo manages the economy of the city, deciding what funds should go where.

Remi is bitter about being left by the three, and acts as a stand in for Kliff. This is because he was against abandoning Sayu, and he was not the one to get her in the split despite being her creator.

Instead of a clock tower, the Nsr tower acts as a light house.

She is stored inside a usb, and she emerges as a corrupted serpent. She powers the light house.

In Siren’s fight, the first phase has you dodging attacks from “Sayu”, afterwards, Sofa jumps down sword in hand, and begins to fight you. After attacking him with the key, the murals shatter, revealing holograms of coral. Another phase of “Sayu” attacks, then Dodo jumps down, wielding the other sword. His attacks are more precise and do more damage. Once you key him as well, a stage covered with oceanic decor rises. This time, “Sayu” has new, more aggressive attacks. Once this part ends, Tila drops down, and the two swords are thrown to her. Once you defeat her, the showstopper shows them deflecting the blast with the swords.

After the fight, the light in the lighthouse shatters revealing a usb drive. One of you plugs in the usb. As the file loads, Remi congratulates you on your victory, and then gets into a fight with his former friends. Once the file loads, Sayu falls out of the computer, whole for the first time in a long time. Remi drops the remote in shock; he thought they deleted Sayu. You ask why Siren Industries has Sayu powering the lighthouse, and it is revealed that they and Remi made Sayu. Remi asks why they kept Sayu, and they say that if they didn’t, they knew he’d try to do it all on his own. They both apologize for the way they treated each other, and somebody accidentally pushes the button on the remote, causing the satellite to start crashing towards the tower. Dodo tells you to return the districts to the artists, and that they have a backup plan.

When attempting to enter the main plaza, you are bombarded by fans, unable to move outside of a small circle the fans have cleared, bots raining from the sky. You then hear a familiar voice “Need a hand?” Sayu emerges from the dark(think her phase 3 form) and draws away the crowd from you, allowing you to enter the grand quaza

Thank you for your time, and Disk Jockey Subatomic Supernova is next!

1010 Sayu Djss

[sanguineness-wings]

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

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

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away. 

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected. 

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross. 

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero. 

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards. 

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous. 

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did. 

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you. 

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun. 

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger. 

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it. 

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.