#nothing related to weight at all just related in part probably to feeling shamed for my eating habits no matter what they were

[thefabelmans2022]

.

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

The Blue Castle chapter 8

“She, who had been afraid of almost everything in life, was not afraid of death.” Valancy Stirling stop being so relatable challenge.

This chapter is probably the bleakest one we’ve had so far – just one straw after another with nothing to temper the weight or act as a counterbalance. Any one of the things that Valancy remembers on their own would be bearable, if still painful to endure. Even every single one of them offset with an equal number of good memories would probably still be okay. But when the only things that punctuate the rigid monotony of your life are negative, of course they’re going to be the things you remember and fixate on. Valancy can’t just think of the good things she has, because she doesn’t have any!

Once again, Valancy weighs whether it’s worth something becoming a Whole Thing in her family, and firmly comes down on the side of absolutely not. And who can blame her? Everything in her life has prepared her for how her relatives will deal with something like this, and not a single but of it is positive. Why put up with that if you don’t have to?

Olive is interesting in this chapter because it feels like we watch her develop over the course of the memories. The dust piles aren’t Olive’s fault – the only thing she did was be new and therefore interesting to the other girls. Olive accusing Valancy of pushing her into the puddle may or may not be her fault – unlike Byron later, it’s not clear if Olive believes mistakenly that Valancy really did do it on purpose or if she’s just trying to get Valancy in trouble (possibly so she won’t get into trouble for ruining her shoes). But then we get later in their lives, and Olive starts actually doing things deliberately. She deliberately tells Valancy why she wasn’t a bridesmaid. She deliberately gets her mother to take Grandmother Stirling’s buttons. And it’s easy to see how she gets there. Olive doesn’t strike me as the smartest woman in the world, but she’s not a fool. She can see the difference in how people treat her versus how they treat Valancy, and she can exploit that to get what she wants. And it seems like part of what she wants is someone to feel superior to. How much of Olive’s self esteem is built on Valancy’s back?

Meanwhile in non-Olive incidents, the time when Valancy was forced to confess to something she didn’t do and then punished anyway reminds me a lot of an incident early in Anne of Green Gables when Marilla does the same thing to Anne. Marilla, of course, realizes that she is the one who was wrong and apologizes, whereas Mrs. Stirling seems to neither know nor care that she is being unjust, but it does make me curious if LMM experienced something similar when she was younger. Or possibly she’s self-plagiarizing, as so many of us do.

And Valancy decides she is done! No more making herself small to please people who will never like her anyway! And in the process she exposes the weakness of a shame-based system of social control. Shame is a powerful tool, and lots of people (including me!) will go to great lengths to avoid it, but if you decide it has no power over you then the system itself just… stops working. “Mother can pout for weeks,” Valancy says to herself, but notably that’s all she imagines her mother will do. There is no fear that her mother will turn her out or stop feeding her or do anything other than be angry and judgmental. So when Valancy decides she doesn’t care about judgment, because she’s not going to have to deal with these people for the next 60 years, all the power they had just evaporates.

[concubuck]

Baby Weight

((warning for talk about diet culture and fatphobia, albeit from the perspective of somebody who thinks it's stupid))

On the rare occasions when Alastor lurks in the company of other mothers-to-be, it's usually in hopes of finding solidarity in suffering from the same symptoms.

It doesn't always work. And of all their complaints, the one he finds least sympathetic is when they start bemoaning their new shape.

All the numbers they list—starting weight, gained weight, BMI, calories, numbers that mean nothing. Words like bloated—fat—heavy—ugly. The sighing, the moaning, the panic—over 30, 15, even 5 pounds. The references to trauma they assume are relatable, the desperate outreaches for sympathy. The self-reassurance that in this one circumstance adding a few pounds is fine; the rush to reassure each other it will melt right off; the eagerness to return to diets and exercise. Agonizing over stretch marks. Declarations that they can't recognize their faces in the mirror. Humiliation when family and friends mention their size; fear of their own naked bodies; shame over their "lack of control," even knowing this comes with pregnancy. Tears, sobbing, breakdowns, terror, disgust, self-loathing.

Alastor can't relate to any of it.

He's not unfamiliar with diet culture. He knows that nowadays women (everyone, but especially women) are expected to be rail thin, to meet modern minimalist design standards. He himself has to magically burn off any extra weight he gains. So he could have understood if these mothers were reluctantly girding their loins to meet everyone else's standards—but the idea that these women agree with diet culture's myths baffles him. 

Alastor has no idea how much he weighs right now, he's not interested in knowing, and if you told him the number it wouldn't mean anything to him. But he's sure he weighs far more than he's ever weighed before—and it's a relief.

He died four years into the Great Depression—overworked, underpaid, his money and food and time stretched in every direction as thin as they could get. By day he killed and made demonic pacts, by night he partied in New Orleans' speakeasies, mornings and evenings he was broadcasting, and he doesn't remember how he slept. When he was killed, he was starving and exhausted, and in truth it probably wouldn't have been much longer until he worked himself to death.

The dead don't change—their shape doesn't fluctuate; they neither gain nor lose weight. Alastor spent the next eighty-four years wearing the body of a starving, exhausted, dying man.

When he became a succubus—when he was alive again—the first time he felt a little softness cushioning his bones, he was euphoric. He felt more healthy than he had since years before he died.

He had to burn the thin layer of fat off. So that the thousands of eyes scrutinizing him wouldn't use every extra pound as fuel for the celebrity gossip machine. So that he'd remain as fuckable as possible.

He hated to do it. He hates it every time he has to do it again. He hates how easy it is for him to waste away. He hates how frail he feels, he hates how bony he looks. He hates the modern tastes that make it necessary. He can't understand the miserable mothers who hate getting a little softer during pregnancy.

This pregnancy is the only time outside his short annual vacations he's felt free from scrutiny. Amidst the swollen ankles and achy joints and crushed bladder and poor sleep and sundry other symptoms, the weight of it has been the only part that feels good. If he could have that without the pregnancy—that sense of mass, of existence—that feeling like he's not just a sharp ghost, but like his body is solid and meaty and real—if he had that, he'd feel amazing.

When the baby is born, he doesn't want to burn the weight off.

... No, he doesn't think he'll burn it off.

[septembersghost]

As a WOC I get some of the critiques for Taylor but based on the timing of all this, it does feel sometimes like I’m being used as an excuse to say every filthy thing possible about Taylor. It’s okay to give her a little grace. And the other thing I’ve noticed is even pre that guy people were already being terrible about Taylor the minute Joe was gone. So it kind of makes me feel terrible for her that she really needs a relationship for people to treat her a bit better.

i hear you, you do not deserve to be used as a shield or a prop for people whose central intent is to bash her just because they hate her in general. that's not uplifting or amplifying you, nor anyone.

it's related to why i've been so upset that people are calling m*tty a n*zi - criticize him, criticize his gross and bigoted actions, but the moment they start to misuse very heavy terms like that, terms that have significant meaning, then any rational argument and criticism loses all its weight, and they're making the situation worse. (i wrote a long post about this a couple of weeks ago and then made it private because i was afraid of being attacked on here, which in and of itself speaks to how toxic the conversation had gotten, where we couldn't even speak up and explain why certain parts of it had become harmful).

anyway, the people doing this, talking over woc or other marginalized fans, using inflammatory rhetoric, they don't actually care that any of us were hurt or concerned, they only want the excuse to hate her. it's not fair that anybody should be used to further that toxicity rather than being centered as a person, and it's wrong to see our identities fractured and wielded to tear her apart when that's so far away from what we were trying to talk about when this started. it's very clear to me now how much of this was driven by people who were anxiously awaiting the day they could attack again, to swarm at blood in the water. the vile things being brought back up and said with no hesitation about her, the people openly hoping for her to come to harm, i wouldn't trust a single one of them to truly care if we needed them, you know? because they have done nothing but exhibit a complete dearth of empathy, and vicious enjoyment at ripping a woman to shreds. the impact that all the old accusations have had, all the cruel and sexist press we thought we'd moved past, was just lingering beneath the surface waiting to be pulled up again. i find it very disturbing and unpleasant.

it also makes legitimate criticism difficult because everything always reaches this tipping point, where it goes from rational and thoughtful discussion to unfiltered vitriol. how do we find a balance where we can fairly say, this is why this is upsetting and needs to be taken into account, when everyone ends up turning it into hyperbolic rage like, this person is a disgusting evil narcissist untalented slut and i hope she dies. those are nowhere near the same universe of a conversation!

"it kind of makes me feel terrible for her that she really needs a relationship for people to treat her a bit better." and have you noticed how people define her completely by the man she's with? i said this to a friend, but anyone who believes that sleeping with a dirtbag has ruined her forever is outright perpetuating the most old-fashioned kind of puritanical shaming, where women are judged and seen as tainted because of men. it's awful, it's a really awful mentality to see still happening!

and yeah, it started brewing the moment she and joe broke up. that is not to say she has handled all of this well, there have been a lot of missteps, bad choices, and bad optics, and some of that is probably directly because of the fact that she's struggling with a destabilizing change in her life. we can understand that while not excusing all of it. people are rarely black and white, and this situation has been complicated. disappointment doesn't mean not showing someone any compassion at all. "It’s okay to give her a little grace." i completely agree, and thank you for saying that, you are obviously a kind and thoughtful person. <3 i hope you've been doing okay.

[ladyartemesia]

The Kiss

◐ PART VIII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐ Part VII ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker, descriptions of violence, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, strong sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, lots of people have, use and are threatened by knives, kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker…

Word Count: 4250

Author’s Note: I said it before but it bears repeating...You have no idea what your support has meant to me. Truly your asks and your messages and comments…they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As many of you know I faced a medical emergency recently and you were all so lovely. The best followers on this site and I MEAN that. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx and  @untaemedqueen​  were (and continue to be) the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. It wouldn’t be here without you.

——◐——

Two Years Ago 

——◐——

Centuries ago the moon goddess stumbled across her human soulmate while he was sleeping. Struck by his beauty, but reluctant to reveal her identity, the goddess began to visit him in his dreams where she could hide her true form and appear before him as a mortal woman. 

In the world of dreams their love flourished and from that blessed union the packs were born…

The wolf nations celebrated this sacred romance every ten years during the Festival of the Lover’s Moon…

The day of the festival was spent eating and drinking and dancing at large parties, but when the sun went down… well—

That’s when things got really interesting. 

On the night of Lover’s Moon the young unmated wolves of the pack were permitted to commemorate this legendary love story in a decidedly scandalous manner. 

The unmated men assumed the role of the goddess’s sleeping lover—they were blindfolded (to represent slumber) and led into a large sectioned off area of the dark forest to ‘wait and dream.’

Unmated she-wolves over the age of maturity (eighteen) took herbal scent suppressors and ventured out into that very same forest in order to anonymously ‘visit’ the young men ‘in their dreams’...

The rules for what exactly that meant were pretty fast and loose which was why Min Yoongi was thanking the goddess and every other deity he could think of that Yunli was still seventeen. 

“But I will be eighteen in two days! Please can’t I just—“

“No. Absolutely not under any circumstances ever.”

“But Yoonji is going!”

“Ji-ah is nearly nineteen and has never been interested in any of the snotty little man-pups of our pack.” He snorted. “She’s probably going out just so she can shove a bunch of them in the lake.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Yunli mumbled irritably. 

Kim Taehyung yawned idly and snuggled into the cozy little pallet he prepared at the base of his favorite tree. The blindfold he and all the other unmated ‘lovers’  wore was made from witchcloth and could not be removed while the sun was down—so he had snuck into the forest earlier to set everything up. 

Now all he had to do was wait until—

“H-Hi Taehyung.”

Oh sh—

“Uh. Hello...Miss.”

Taehyung didn’t recognize the owner of that voice, but he knew for sure who it wasn’t. 

“I was hoping to find you tonight.”

This is not good. 

“Well I’m—I’m flattered… naturally but—”

She touched his hand and he squeaked. 

“I was thinking you and I might get to know each other a little bet—eep!”

The sharp point of a custom blade pressed directly into the unfortunate young beta girl’s pulse point. 

“Are you lost, puppy?”

A heavy cloak obscured the newcomer’s features, but there was no mistaking her meaning. 

Taehyung bit his lip to keep from snorting as the poor she-wolf scrambled away. 

“Ji-ah,” he tsked with feigned disapproval, “that wasn’t very nice.”

Min Yoonji grinned as she sheathed her wicked looking dagger and slid languidly into his arms. 

“You don’t like nice girls, Kim Taehyung.”

“I like you,” he whispered breathlessly against her lips. “Nice or not—it doesn't matter to me…” His hands slid greedily over her soft curves—pulling her closer till he felt the beat of her heart against his own. “I’ll like anything as long as it’s you.” 

This was the stupidest idea in the history of stupid ideas. 

Jimin huffed as he struggled to find a comfortable position against the giant boulder he’d chosen as his perch.

Why did I let Taehyung talk me into this?

He could be at home—in bed—comfortably sleeping off the all-day feast he’d indulged in. 

Instead he was out in the middle of the forest sitting blindfolded on a rock in the off chance that one of the she-wolves was out looking for him. 

Not bloody likely. 

Not when prime targets like Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook—and countless others—were scattered throughout the woods. 

“Park Jimin?”

Every hair on Jimin’s body stood on end. 

It was a soft whisper—the speaker clearly didn’t want her voice to be recognized, yet something about the sound sent a curious frisson of interest down his spine. 

He gulped. 

“Yes… that’s me. But if you’re looking for Hoseok he’s just a little deeper in. You probably caught his scent downwind so—”

“I’m not looking for Hoseok.”

Jimin licked his lips and the sight of it sparked a odd curl of heat in the pit of your belly. 

“I don’t know where anyone else is…”

“That’s quite alright.” A muted shuffle of movement reached his ears as you settled down beside him. “I was looking for you.” 

“Oh…” He rubbed the back of his neck idly. “Are you sure?”

Laughter like fairy bells whispered through the air and Jimin felt his heart clench.

Don’t get your hopes up. 

“Who are you?”

You were silent for a long time and then—

“I am someone who owes you a debt. One I have never been able to repay.”

Jimin’s head tilted curiously as he considered your words. 

“I’m sorry, miss… you must be mistaken. There isn’t—“

“You don’t remember.” 

It was a statement—not a question. Your voice was nearer now. He could feel the warmth of your body close to his—though not quite touching. “It was your wolf that saved me. But you had not gone through the Change yet.”

Familiar shame spiked sharply in his chest.

“I’m seven years past the Change...Why have you never mentioned this before?”

“Circumstances prevented me from doing so.” 

There was a cold finality to your pronouncement—which of course did nothing but further inflame his curiosity. 

“Then why come to me now?”

“I’ve come to repay you.”

Jimin’s mouth dropped open. 

Were you trying to—?!

“Oh—no please that-that’s not necessary—I could never take advantage of—”

You giggled again.  

“I am not offering my body, Park Jimin.”

Jimin breathed a heavy sigh of relief then shook his head with a wry chuckle. 

“Well considering the circumstances I can hardly be blamed for assuming you might be. And honestly most men would jump at the chance to—”

“You...are not most men.” 

Jimin’s eyes narrowed beneath his blindfold. 

“Little she-wolf—I may not be wrestling bears for fun or bare knuckle boxing in the town square, but I am still an alpha.”

The weight of his command poured over your body as he spoke the last word. There was no order or intent—he had simply given you a taste of his power. 

Aside from your direct blood relatives, no alpha had ever dared unleash their compel in your presence—therefore you were utterly unprepared for the effect it had on you—

Utterly unprepared for the strange surge of want so potent and profound that it stole the breath from your body. 

It was primal—invigorating—

Sensual.

You and your wolf may not have been entirely connected yet, but she was suddenly quite vocal about her desire to fully bask in Park Jimin’s attention.

A wicked grin played over his lips as he leaned in closer and you could almost feel the soft brush of his lips against your cheek. 

“Did you think I would not desire the touch of a beautiful woman in the moonlight?” he whispered. 

Please touch me, Alpha. 

Your eyes widened. 

Dear goddess. Your inner wolf was turning out to be a shameless hussy. 

“You might desire it, but you are far too  honorable to accept it as payment for a debt.”

Jimin drew back warily. 

You were correct of course. After all he had refused you when he believed that was your intent but—

“How could you know that?”

Evade. Evade now. 

“Well... how could you know I was beautiful? You’re blindfolded.”

He shrugged and your wolf took careful note of the way it made all the pretty muscles in his back and shoulders ripple. 

He will give us such strong—

Oh boy. 

He will do no such thing. Please calm down. 

“Not everything must be seen with your eyes.”

Is that how you found me? All those years ago...

Questions churned chaotically beneath your consciousness but you dared not give voice to them. 

Focus.

“I must repay this debt. Ask for what you want and—if it is in my power—I swear it will be yours.”

Jimin smiled again, but this time it was somehow softer. For a moment he looked almost…

Sad. 

“I’m afraid that the only thing I have ever wanted is not within your power to give...and I dare not ask you or anyone else for it.”

For her. 

He sighed and drew even farther away from you—in fact it seemed like he was preparing to leave. 

No. 

Your hand reached out almost of it's its own accord and wrapped tightly around his wrist. The contact sent a shock of searing heat through his veins and he froze. 

“Please alpha. It is not acceptable for someone like me—” a leader, a Luna, “—to owe another my life and offer nothing in return. You must let me pay my debt.”

Omega, his wolf growled, sweet perfect omega. 

Suppressors may have hidden your scent, but the siren song of an omega pleading prettily in his ear was unmistakable—irresistible…

“What if all I want is your name?”

You sighed deeply. 

“I cannot give you that. My name is… not mine to offer.”

Jimin laughed. 

“A woman I cannot remember with a name I cannot know and whose face I cannot see.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you are just a figment of my imagination.”

It was hard to explain what happened next...For whatever reason his words cut you deeply and you were overcome with the desire—no need—to refute them somehow. 

“I’m real enough,” you whispered, bringing his hand to your cheek. 

Jimin was genuinely beginning to wonder if you were a witch as well as a she-wolf. Being close to you was intoxicating and the urge to draw you in was steadily overpowering every other thought.

“Could I ask you for a kiss, then?”

“You—...You saved my life and all you want... is a kiss?”

The air grew heavier as the strange magnetic pull between you swelled to a silent inescapable crescendo. 

“In Seoul I often searched for someone who could ease my loneliness, yet each time I walked away emptier than before.” His thumb brushed gently over your lips and your eyes fluttered shut. “I have never had a kiss that meant anything to me.”

But yours might. 

It was unclear who moved first, whether he pulled you to him or you surged forward but when your bodies aligned and your lips met his for the first time it was as if you had never been separate from one another. 

As if you had always been deeply—intimately —together. 

The indescribable feel of him lit over your senses like a struck match. It was an ignition in the purest sense of the word— a fiery visceral awakening fueled by a consuming flood of desire. 

Yes, Alpha. 

He might never see your face or hear your name, but Jimin knew he would remember the taste of you for the rest of his life. It was hot and bright like liquid sunshine— a pure relentless light flowing through him where there was once only darkness. 

A soft needy moan rose up from your chest and he growled in primal satisfaction as you melted against him. 

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt of their own accord, desperately trying to bring him closer until he wrapped his arms around you in a heated embrace. 

“Please,” he begged breathlessly against your mouth. “Please tell me who you are.”

The words crashed over you like a bucket of ice —dousing the hazy pleasure of his kiss with a cold bite of reality. Suddenly you were wrenching yourself away from him and your wolf whimpered in misery at the loss of his touch. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. 

And then you were gone. 

“Did someone hurt you?”

You looked up to find Jin taking in your tears with cold fury. 

Twin knives were already gleaming dangerously in his hands and he appeared ready to filet whichever bastard was foolish enough to make you cry. 

“No,” you sniffed—well aware of how pitiful you were at the moment—crying in the corner of your cousin’s kitchen. “I got myself into this mess without any help—as usual.”

Jin sighed and slid down next to you. 

“Tell me.”

“Something happened that I…I didn’t intend.”

“Oh I knew that already. The Luna isn’t supposed to be running around on the night of Lover’s Moon in a forest full of blind horny wolves—“

You snorted and shook your head. 

“You’re absolutely right. I should have stayed away.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed and he wondered if perhaps you had caught Kim Namjoon with another omega. Nothing would be official until after the Change of course, but your bond with him was basically a foregone conclusion at this point. 

“You went looking for someone...didn’t you.”

You nodded miserably—all but confirming his fears. He made a mental note to push Namjoon in the swamp at the next available opportunity. 

“You know... the stories say that a Luna is powerfully drawn to her mate under the Lover’s Moon—that her wolf can sense him even before the Change.”  He reached over and gently began to brush the tears from your eyes. “So it’s not surprising that you sought him out, but it’s not really fair to hold whatever it is you saw against him. There is no relationship between you yet and…” he chuckled, “kisses beneath festival moonlight don’t really mean anything anyways.”

It was clear that Jin had somehow gotten the entirely wrong impression, but perhaps that was for the best. 

No one knew of your connection to Jimin and no one had seen what passed between you. 

Still…

Something about his assessment stung you. 

“You really believe that? ...That a kiss exchanged tonight means nothing?”

“I do.” Jin spoke with conviction. “There’s ancient magic at play in those woods. You can’t always trust what you see—or what you feel.”

“Oh I...I didn’t know…”

After a moment you laid your head against his shoulder and let the last of your tears run silently down your cheek. 

“Jin-ah have you ever wanted something you knew you couldn’t have?”

“Yes.” He sighed heavily and pulled you in to snuggle a bit closer. “When I was younger I dreamed of having a mate just like everyone else…”

The words were so softly spoken—almost wistful. Your heart splintered just hearing them. 

“But… she could be out there—your mate.”

Jin shook his head. 

“When is the last time you heard of a female alpha?”

Fresh tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Jin…”

“Hey,” he whispered, “don’t waste your crying on me. I’ve long since come to terms with who and what I am.”

“You’re not sad anymore?”

“Well… maybe sometimes I am… but I had to accept that people like us are not like everyone else. Our destinies were written long before we were born.”

“And you believe you’re destined to be alone?”

“Wolves in a pack are never really alone.”

“Yes...but they can be lonely,” you whispered thinking back to Jimin’s words. 

For a moment Jin’s eyes were the saddest you had ever seen them. 

“Well...I suppose they can.”  Then he chuckled and gave your nose an affectionate little tap. “But you don’t need to worry about that. When the time comes Namjoon will take his place at your side and the two of you will build a wonderful life together... Isn’t that what you want?”

Isn’t it?

Your treacherous thoughts drifted back to the boy in the moonlight—to the way your body sang when he touched you and the strange insatiable desire to know him and be known by him in return.

“Please...Tell me who you are.”

A heavy ache settled in your heart. 

You were the Luna of the mountain nations. A true born moon princess. 

You could never be the woman who kissed Park Jimin underneath the stars. 

You were not like everybody else. 

“...Yes. That is what I want.”

——◐——

Now 

——◐——

Jimin’s heart pounded as he tore through the dark paths of the wood with Taehyung, Yoongi, and Jungkook close behind. 

He had never led an attack—had never been trained to command wolves in battle. 

It was his first true test of leadership and he hadn’t even been a leader for twenty-four hours. 

Yet the fears and anxieties that might have normally clouded his mind were notably absent. 

There was only you.

Ironically Jimin owed Namjoon yet another debt—this time for explaining what exactly someone like him was capable of. 

The alpha Jin captured had given up their plan and position after being exposed to Jimin’s unique gifting, so he had a concrete target in his mind… He suspected however, that your captors had taken precautions after leaving some of their men behind. They had shifted their camp. 

But it wouldn’t be enough to save them. 

Jimin didn’t need your location to find you. 

He spent years refusing to look at you, and even then he always knew exactly where you were. He could sense you in any crowd—hear your voice in a thousand.

Once it had tormented him cruelly to be so aware of you. 

Now it was the only thing keeping him sane. 

He followed the connection between his heart and yours like a lifeline and it guided him as surely as the stars. 

The alphas followed him without question. 

If any of them harbored lingering doubts before, they were firmly laid to rest after what they saw at the cottage. No ordinary wolf could do what he had done. 

The Alpha would bring back their Luna and retribution would be swift indeed. 

The drugs in your system kept swinging you in and out of lucidity like a nightmarish pendulum. You tried to shift after the initial nausea faded, but whatever they gave you kept your wolf caged beneath your skin. 

Jimin

The longing you felt for your mate was the only thing tethering you to reality. You could almost hear him echoing in the far corners of your mind—  

I’m coming Omega—hold on. 

I’ll find you. 

Part of you recognized that his voice was likely nothing more than the wistful creation of your drug-addled mind, still you clung to it like the last shred of hope while the minutes (or hours) flew past.

Chaos clouded your thoughts even in clearer moments as many unavoidable concerns forced their way through the haze. 

Jin was at the house with you when they broke in. You had no way of knowing if he survived. 

The men who took you were crass and irreverent. Their eyes followed your form with too much interest and too little respect. 

It was starting to get cold and (due to you nearly dismembering a high council member and needing to be compelled unconscious) you were still wearing a thin white ceremonial dress which offered very little protection from the elements. 

You wondered idly if your idiot captors would let you freeze to death before they accomplished whatever it was they took you for. They clearly needed you for something or you would have been long dead by now. 

None of them struck you as particularly brilliant planners so the mastermind must be somewhere else... 

Frankly the entire situation was as puzzling as it was troubling. Iron Claw had always gotten along well with your pack. 

Technically they were (almost) what the human governments called a vassal state. The presence of a Luna determined the dominant pack in a region and the Luna of the mountain nations had been born into Silver Fang—your pack—for the last thousand years or so. 

Why would they challenge us now? 

The birth of a Luna indicated that the goddess had chosen that pack to lead. Their willingness—not only to kidnap you—but to go against the dominant pack by doing so was alarming to say the least. 

A sudden explosion of movement and sound interrupted your contemplation. Motion erupted all around you—boots pounding on the ground, men falling into their wolf forms, knives being drawn… 

You lifted your head—straining forward to see the source of the commotion—and nearly collapsed in relief when you finally did. 

Alpha

Your mate stood at the edge of the camp flanked by two enormous black wolves. 

A deadly looking jingum sword gleamed dangerously in his right hand. You recognized it immediately as your great-grandfather’s combat blade—the thousand year-old weapon of the Silver Fang Alphas. 

Relief flooded your chest all over again at the sight of it. Only Jin could have given him that sword—which meant he was still alive. 

The black wolves—Yoongi and Jungkook—snarled viciously but made no move to attack. 

Your captors were still scrambling into some sort of combat formation when Jimin finally spoke. 

“You have violated our sacred laws, trespassed in sovereign pack lands, kidnapped a Luna under the protection of our goddess, abducted the mate of the Silver Fang Alpha, and risked open war between our peoples.” He took a single step forward. “Surrender now and I will be merciful.”

The biggest of your captors—a man you recognized as the de facto leader—spat viciously on the ground. 

“You are not my Alpha,” he growled.

A cold—almost cruel—smile twisted over Jimin’s lips.

“Very well.”

Then he dropped to one knee and a massive grey wolf—Taehyung—leapt over his head and tore out the defiant leader’s throat before he even hit the ground. 

Your mouth dropped open. 

Bangtan formation.

Yoongi and Jungkook lunged forward in opposite directions, tackling their targets to the forest floor in a bloody clash of teeth and claws. 

One of the larger Iron Claw alphas half-shifted and charged Jimin but his arm shot out lightning fast, catching his attacker by the throat to send him flying through the air into a tree. 

The next several minutes could only be described as terrifyingly beautiful.

It was immediately clear that Jimin had been holding back when he fought Namjoon. 

He dispatched his opponents with such elegant savagery it was almost art.

You were so mesmerized watching Jimin sensually sword dance his way through a dozen alphas nearly twice his size that you almost missed Taehyung’s wolf rushing over with a dagger clenched between his teeth. 

Luna are you okay? 

You grinned and held up your rope-bound wrists. 

“I’ll be better once you pass me that knife.”

Taehyung nodded once and dropped the blade at your feet before tackling another wolf that was tearing towards the two of you. 

You sawed through the ties around your ankle first then twisted your arms to try and slice through the restraints on your wrist. 

The Iron Claw wolves were clearly no match for Jimin and his alphas. 

Jungkook and Yoongi chased after the few who were trying to run while Taehyung half-shifted to subdue the handful of wolves left alive as prisoners. Only Jimin continued to fight as the last three of your captors still standing took turns being slammed into the dirt by his strikes. 

He was clearly capable of dispatching them, but you were fairly convinced that you would die if you had to stay away from him for another second. The ropes, however, were surprisingly thick and the angle you were cutting them at wasn’t the best. If only—

You were almost free when you saw it. 

One of your captors had pulled a hunting javelin from their supply wagon. He must have hid himself at the onset of the fight, but now he was comfortably concealed by the shadows—and taking aim at Jimin. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. 

The attacker appeared to handle the weapon with familiarity. He was too far back—too well hidden—Jimin would never see him in time—

The last cord around your wrist snapped and you were on your feet, pushing through the combined haze of fury and sedatives to charge the wolf who dared attack your mate. 

By the time he saw you it was far too late. 

Under the effects of the drug your aim was a little skewed but you weren’t Kim Seokjin’s cousin for nothing. 

One clean flick of your wrist and the dagger shot through the air, burying itself between the brute’s shoulder blades—all the way to the hilt. 

His body fell to the ground just as Jimin sent the last of your captors careening into a pile of previously defeated foes. 

For a moment all was quiet. 

Then your eyes locked across the distance and everything around you sharpened to a single whispered word. 

“Jimin.”

He had run non-stop for miles and torn apart a dozen wolves to get to your side—no amount of space between you now was tolerable. 

The sword clattered to the forest floor as he moved toward you—desperate to feel you—to wrap himself around you and know that you were safe. 

What happened next was as natural as breathing.

You opened to him and he lifted you into his arms, taking your lips in a hot unrepentant kiss. 

Fire exploded across your senses, burning away everything but the touch and taste of him. Every part of you was at once fiercely and gloriously alive. Desperate moans passed between you as he licked into your mouth—a dark primal promise of the pleasure he would take between your thighs. 

“Alpha,” you whimpered, too delirious with want to manage anything else. 

Suddenly Jimin’s eyes shot open. His hands flew to cup your face, searching it with a mixture of realization and disbelief.

“You… It was you.”

If you are already on the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

Please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart! Seriously this story keeps going because you guys have been so supportive and wonderful. You have no idea how much just a few word can brighten my world and fire up my muse. 

[bangtangalicious]

the glow up | pjm, kth (1)

pairing: jimin x reader, taehyung x reader ft. a splash of jungkook

summary: after going off to college, you & your best friend committed to working out. a year later, the results show, and you cant wait for your hot hometown friends to see you. now all you wanna do is wild out and have lots of sex, and enjoy it without feeling insecure

genre: smut, angst drama childhoodfriends!au weightloss!au (is that a thing) friends-to-lovers!au

word count: 3.5k

warnings: body image issues, car sex, road...riding(?), exhibitionist themes, groping, toxic behavior, lots of making out, dirty talk, boys being problematic, weight loss, slut-shaming, unprotected sex (disclaimer: everyone’s body is beautiful. there is no ideal weight or body type! you’re beautiful) 

part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7                                                    masterlist

The sun rays filtered through your blinds, and as you felt the piercing heat on your skin you smiled. Summer was finally here. You had come back from college just a few days ago, and had yet to catch up with your old friends.

You were really excited this time. The past year, you and Jimin had made a pact to hold each other accountable and go to the gym. You were proud of your hard work, and the results showed.

You had always been the chubbier friend. Not to the point where anyone really noticed, but you did. Jimin would relate to you back in the day, as you both would get teased by his friends for his cheeks. Today was Jimin’s pool party, and you were expecting to make a grand entrance to show off your new body. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Everyone would be unable to take their eyes off of you.

Taehyung had graciously offered to pick you up since he would be in the area to pick up the alcohol anyways. You saw from your window as his white convertible entered the parking lot. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, an oversized T covering the skin tight bikini underneath.

As Taehyung saw you emerge from the building, he pulled his arm back, gesturing you to sit next to him and smiled. He was always really sweet to you. You had known him just as long as Jimin even though you weren’t as close.

“Morning princess. It’s been a while”

You blushed and rolled your eyes. You made a point to show off your tones legs as you got into his car. You didn’t miss the way his eyes scanned your figure as the wind teased your curves under the baggy fabric.

“Hey Tae, damn it really has. I haven’t seen you since last year!” You twirled your finger in your hair absentmindedly. Taehyung kept one hand at the back of your shoulders as he began to drive. Something about the way he was driving had you squirming. He glanced over at you, and you good see the smirk in his eyes from behind his round glasses. He turned on the radio as he pressed down on the gas.

Next thing you know, you’re lowering yourself down onto his hard dick.

When did you end up getting into his lap and riding him as he drove? When did you get completely naked in his car and let his taste every inch of you? The details were a blur. But as you reached Jimin’s house, you were a sweating, breathless mess. Taehyung looked completely fine, as if nothing had happened. He waved to some others who were gathered around the entrance as he stopped the car then turned to you. His hand found your thigh, slowly caressing you as his fingers crept up, his thumb brushing over your wetness, still sensitive from the quick fuck you two shared just minutes before.

“You ready to go in?” He smiled genuinely, it was as if he had turned back into the Taehyung you knew from your childhood and not the boy who was whispering absolute filth into your ears about how many different ways he wanted to destroy you.

“Um, you go ahead, I just need to gather myself”

He nodded in understanding, pushing your hair behind your ears, gazing at you intensely before leaning to kiss you passionately, as if he had been craving you for years and couldn’t get enough. Your hands instantly cupped his face, reciprocating and rolling your body towards him, searching for something you knew you wouldn’t find. His lips were incredible. Soft and tight, teeth grazing over yours and tugging at you. You shifted to get even closer to him, allowing him to grab your waist. It was not the most comfortable position, but you were too lost in sensation to care.

“What the fuck”

As if someone threw a bucket of cold water on you, you yelped and jumped away from Taehyung, realizing how blatantly in public you two had been making out. You turned and saw the shocked and confused expression of your best friend.

“Jimin…hey”

You took in the sight of him. He looked hot. You had to blink to make sure you were even looking at the right person. His face had changed strikingly, his jaw sharp, angled, and neck toned. He also seemed to be trying to digest everything he was seeing.

Your mutual staring was interrupted by the sound of Taehyung getting out of the car, slamming the door shut. He came up to your side of the car, tilted your face up and kissed you one last time. You saw Jimin’s knees go week, and fury built in his eyes. Taehyung then playfully pat his back before leaving the two of you to go enjoy the party.

You had no idea what to say. You didn’t know if you should feel guilty. You technically didn’t do anything wrong. Jimin was simply gaping at you.

He finally cleared his throat, seemingly coming to some sort of compromise within himself. “Sorry, I was just…not expecting that.” He opened his arms as an invitation for you to get out of the car and hug him, which you did. You basked in his comforting scent.

“Missed you loser” You muttered. You heard him scoff as he let you go, his eyes flickering over you.

“So…” He backs away so that you two are still pressed against each other but he could see your face, “You and Tae?”

“No! It’s not like that I…”

He clenched his jaw, tilting his head.

“Did he fuck you y/n?”

You nodded. You felt his fists clench. You quickly grabbed his wrist before he turned around to go find Taehyung.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him that’s what”

He tried to shake you off but you wouldn’t budge. “Calm down. Hey. I wanted to Jimin, it was mutual” He shoved you back against Taehyung’s car, you almost tripped back over the door into the seat but you caught yourself.

“Why? Did you really put so much time and work on that body just to hand it off to the first person you get your hands on? Did you really go through all the hell these past few months, getting up early, sweating every day? All that work and you just toss it to him like it’s nothing? Now you’re acting like a complete whore? Don’t you have any self respect?”

You had seen Jimin angry before, but this was different. He looked dissapointed. You realized with a queasiness in your stomach that your best friend was looking at you in disgust. Judging you. You felt small suddenly, wishing you could rewind and take it all back, just arrive and have fun like you had originally planned.

“Let me see” He demanded. “Show me your body” You were incredibly confused, but did as he asked, lifting your shirt up and tossing it into Taehyung’s car. You observe as Jimin gulps, staying absolutely silent. If he likes what he sees, he makes no indication of it. He looks away.

“Wow. You…you’re hot” He says softly, his voice much kinder but he couldn’t meet your eyes. You swallowed nervously.

“So are you. I’m proud of us” You reached for his arm affectionately. “Jimin, I’m sorry if me fucking Taehyung made you feel uncomfortable, but come on I haven’t seen you in so long. I wanna enjoy today with you. Let’s just move on” Jimin finally looked back at you, sighing and nodding his head.

He led you to the pool. Taehyung was already in the water, playing volleyball with Jungkook and Hoseok. He smiled your way, pushing his wet hair back. You could feel Jimin’s eyes on you like a hawk as you smiled back. He got out of the pool and walked over to you. You couldn’t help but ogle at the way the water dripped down his bare chest.

“Y/n, you should come play with us” He offered sincerely. Jimin scoffed quite loudly, causing others to turn their heads as well. Taehyung ignored him, smiling towards you still.

“Y…yeah for sure. I’ll come in a bit”

“Aw come on, I can carry you, it’ll be fun” He wrapped his arms around your hips, allowing your legs to wrap around him. You giggled as he swung around and screamed as he threw you into the pool. Jungkook swam over and caught you in an embrace, his hand accidentally brushing the side of your breast.

“Hey y/n!” He said sweetly, “It’s great to see you! You look really good” You blushed as Jungkook let his hands travel up and down your back. Jimin was practically fuming. Jungkook’s fingers teasingly toyed with the tie of your bikini, making you heat up inside. Seeing as you didn’t back away, he took it as invitation to advance even more. Making sure his back blocked any sight of what he was doing to you, he slid his hand under your flimsy bikini. He whispered into your ear “You like that?” You nodded, unable to hide the red flush on your cheek. He smirked and pulled you flush against him so you could feel his hard cock through his trunks. “Tell me how Tae fucked you y/n”

“I…”

“What did you do, hm?” His hands squeezed your inner thighs, spreading your legs out so he could push in more. “Did you give him road head? Did you ride his cock? In a convertible fuck just out in the open for everyone to see? Is that what you’re into huh? You like it when others watch?”

You nodded furiously, your core getting extremely hot with his words.

“What do you think? Want me to turn you around right here? Take you in front of everyone? Take you in front of Taehyung…in front of Jimin? Poor motherfucker would probably die with jealousy”

That statement didn’t sit well with you. Jimin? Jealous? You wiggled out of Jungkook’s grip, swimming away slightly.

“Why would he be jealous?” You asked. Jungkook laughed. Taehyung swam up to the two of you to see what was going on.

“Hyung, what do you think? If I fuck her in front of Jimin, how do you think he would react?”

Taehyung chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. “I know if I were him I would probably beat you up” He pulls you in towards him, kissing your cheek.

Was it true? Did Jimin want you? Is that why he was so upset? You shook your head. There was no way. If he liked you, he had so many opportunities to tell you, and you knew you wouldn’t have denied him. You guys were the closest that two people could be. You didn’t think of him in this way before, but you could definitely admit that he was extremely attractive.

Taehyung lifts you out of the pool. Water molds over you as you emerge from the water. He nibbles your ear “Jimin missed out, I feel kinda bad” He paused, “Actually I don’t. You were incredible” Jungkook whines.

“Lucky” He pouts. “I want her too”

You were lost in thought, still confused over the realization that your best friend might like you. You felt upset suddenly, wishing so badly you hadn’t fucked Taehyung, no matter how good it was. You couldn’t imagine how hurt he must have felt. Your friendship was hanging by a thread.

And these two just could not keep their hands off of you. You hated that you liked the attention. They hadn’t looked twice your way before, but Jimin was always there. Jimin always reminded you that you were beautiful no matter what. He supported you to do things for yourself, not because you needed to impress anyone else.

“Is this just because of my body? Is that why you two are acting like this?”

Taehyung gaped at you. You couldn’t tell if he was offended or guilty.

“God you make me sick” You pushed him away from you, getting up and running into the house.

You began to cry. Jimin was right. How could you have been such an idiot? You looked for a place to find privacy, but there were people everywhere. You shuddered at the thought of what you almost just did with Jungkook, shame overtaking you. You just let him touch you like that. You felt pathetic.

You found Jimin’s bedroom empty, shut the door and curled up on his bed, finally able to voice your sobs.

There was a light knock at the door. You froze.

“Y/n? Are you in here?” Your heart dropped at the sound of Jimin’s sweet voice. You couldn’t bear to face him now. You wished the floor would just swallow you whole. The door slowly opened and Jimin peered in. His eyes were full of concern as he located you, entering and closing the door behind him.

His heart wrenched as he saw your tears. He quickly made his way to you, sitting down by your side and wrapping his arms around you protectively.

“What’s wrong? Hey…” He stroked your face affectionately, “Sssh. You’re okay…you’re okay” His kindness just made you cry even harder, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m so sorry Jimin” You cried out, “I ruined everything. I’m such an idiot”

“What are you talking about? What do you have to be sorry for? I…I’m sorry about how I was acting earlier if that’s what made you upset”

You shook your head, “I didn’t know. I’m so stupid. Jimin, I just…I think I asked Taehyung to have sex with me because he was checking me out, and no one…no one just does that with me, so I got excited. And then I got here and…Jungkook and Taehyung kept”

Jimin growled, “What? Did they hurt you? What did they do?”

“No…no. They just…I liked that they were paying attention to me and…so I kept letting them do whatever they wanted. I’m such a whore”

Jimin cupped your face with his hands, leaning his face so that he could look straight into your eyes, trying to smile for you. “It happens baby”

“You were right. Everything you said was completely right…and the worst part is that…” Another sob escaped you. “I didn’t know…you…were interested in me like that”

Jimin let out a laugh, causing you to flinch in surprise. Had you misunderstood?

“You didn’t know I was interested in you? That’s why you’re crying?” He giggled. You pouted at him. He cooed at you affectionately, laying you down on the bed so he could hold you closer. “You’re so cute y/n”

Jimin kissed your lips tenderly. “It’s my fault” He whispered, “I didn’t have the balls to tell you before. I guess I just, was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way so. I know I’m not the best looking amongst our friends” You smacked him at this statement.

He was beautiful. He had always been beautiful to you. Inside and out.

“Jimin” You exhaled, voice trembling, rolling into him and finding his lips once more. “I would do anything for you. If you wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask”

Jimin pulled away. The both of you were breathing heavily. He shook his head, “I…I don’t…just want to fuck you” He sat up and brought you into his lap so you could straddle him. He brushed the hairs off your face, eyes gleaming with adoration. “You’re my best friend” You could see the overwhelming emotion overcoming him, “You’re…everything to me” Your heart was racing. You felt absolutely vulnerable in his arms, but at the same time you knew you were completely safe.

You kissed him, his hands slipping behind you to gently clutch your ass, pushing you closer to him. Your hips roll slightly, wanting to feel some sort of friction. You were both moaning helplessly into each other’s mouths, unable to breath. You reached your hand down towards his waistline but he stopped you, shaking his head.

“No…baby…not today”

You whined.

“You literally fucked one of my closest friends this morning y/n. I can’t exactly not think about the fact that his cum might literally be inside of you right now. In fact, I might need a while to get that thought out of me”

This was true. Thinking back to what was now a blur of events, reminders of the ethereal bliss you had felt, as you bounced yourself like a maniac on Taehyung’s big dick, hands clutching his pink hair, moaning at the top of your lungs as he zoomed down the highway, evidently speeding. It was the riskiest, most profane, dirty thing you had ever done. Anyone could see you, and you didn’t care one bit. You chased after your high as if nothing else even mattered. It was the best sex you ever had.

Your face flushed as you recalled how Taehyung had to pull over because he needed to touch you himself, laying you sprawled out on the head of his car, ravishing every inch of you.

“I can’t believe how good you feel” He groaned, “This is even better than in my dreams”

His words returning to you. How he looked like he was in heaven as he came inside your thick walls. The way his eyelids fluttered in bliss. “Oh my god princess, take my fucking cum” He sucked your tit harshly “I’m gonna fuck you up so good. You’re mine”

After he came how he had become so caring and gentle, but somehow till leaving you breathless. How he had kissed you all over your face softly, whispering sweet nothings. Like how beautiful you were, how much he had prayed for this day to come, how happy he was to see you, how bad he had missed you.

Wait.

“Taehyung…oh no” You couldn’t stop your remark as you realized what a big mistake you had made. Taehyung wasn’t messing with you. He was letting you live your wildest fantasies. He was everything you wanted. Someone insanely sexy, who would tease you, drive you crazy, and fuck you so well.

You were beyond confused, as you remained in the lap of someone you could never lose. Maybe Taehyung was just a fleeting moment. Jimin was secure. You knew he’d never hurt you. He’d love you right. He was a good guy. He deserved to get everything he wanted.

The more you thought about it, the more unsure you were. Someone was playing with you but you didn’t know who. Jimin sensed your unease.

“Baby” He let his nose graze against yours, “Y/n?”

The door swung open, making Jimin tighten his hold on you. Taehyung barged in, looking more serious than you had ever seen him. He paused to see what he had walking in on before shaking his head quickly.

“Look y/n. If you want Jimin that’s your choice and I respect and support that, but you have no right accusing me of being so shallow” He barked. “You act like today was the first time I looked at you like that when you know that’s not true. I always flirted with you. I always complimented you. I always made moves on you but you were so busy hating yourself to see that. I didn’t fucking care how you looked. You were such a great person to be around. I was always attracted to you. I accept a loss when I see one, but I’ll be damned if you walk away thinking so low of me” He was panting. Your eyes were wide with shock.

“I even” He laughed incredulously, “Just last year. I asked you if you wanted to leave Hobi’s party with me, and you just laughed in my face and said as if someone like you would get with someone like me and I said, wanna bet? and you just laughed and left it at that…god can you like not sit in his lap like that right now”

You obeyed, startled by his confession, standing up and backing away from both the boys.

“Okay Taehyung, I think she gets it. But it doesn’t matter anymore”

Taehyung scoffed, ignoring Jimin, “I just need you to know that I wasn’t just waiting around for you to get hot. It’s not that you lost weight and now we’re all looking at you, it’s just that now you actually notice because before you wouldn’t believe that anyone thought you were beautiful. And one more thing” He glares at Jimin “I would never belittle you for exploring your sexuality. We’re all allowed that. Just because we might have done it in high school and you’re doing it now doesn’t make you a whore.”

With that he slammed the door and went off.

next ———>

A/N: FIRST of all. There is so much toxic behavior in this. I want to make a point about how the “good boys” aren’t always the “good” boys. Jimin better step it up hehe. Next chapters are way more smut and a lot less plot ope. Um, again i’m new here so if you want to be tagged or something for updates lmk i guess lol 

[keepingupwithpotters]

prompt!! "I've been looking for you my whole life. "

Thank you for heeding my call for help sel, this is the softest thing I have ever written, feeling very uwu in the house tonight ☁️

As it had been kindly pointed out to me by @sunshine-marauders the second part of On Looking is still pretty fucking angsty and I have decided to defy all odds and write them disgustingly soft for once. I also remember some people saying "and now kiss" to the first one and granted a few wishes there as well...

You can read this and the previous 2 parts on ao3

There were several instances James felt like he was still in a dream. Slow dancing with Lily Evans under the candlelight was one of them.

He had a feeling she was aware of it too, there had been many moments he slipped up for her to not to. Lily was a smart witch, but he probably wasn’t posing a serious challenge at any rate with the way he had been mooning over her.

With his hands splayed around her back, he couldn’t rein it in even if he tried, staring at her in wonder, away from the prying eyes. He made an effort not to do it too much when they were in public, more so because of Sirius’ mocking than anything, but they were alone in the Heads’ Office now, accompanied by nothing but the faint notes coming from the radio.

It was more swaying than dancing, carrying each other’s weight, drawing the strength beneath. They had been dead tired for a while now; the N.E.W.T.s load only increasing with the Head duties piling up on it. They’d stayed up late again for detention slips today, many of them had been for attacks on Muggle-borns, both noted grimly. None were as serious as the one Lily had stopped in April, but what they lacked in severity, they made up for it in numbers. Hospital wing never stayed empty, always at least one young student in it, waiting to be treated by Madame Pomfrey for a minor injury.

He knew that was half the reason for the hunch on her shoulders, brows furrowing further with each slip they went through. He felt the burning need to put an end to it, carry her away from her worries. The crackling tune that came on the radio was just his chance.

They had been swaying for two songs now, one crooning voice carrying on after the other. He stopped paying attention to what they were saying a long time ago. Lily’s head, which till now had been on his shoulder, lifted up, soft gaze going hazy as they went in a circle. Meeting her eyes took his breath away again. She started chuckling when she noticed it, calling him out.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Hm?”

Her head tilted to one side slightly. “Staring at me like I’ll just disappear.”

“I don’t think you’ll disappear,” he murmured. “I just can’t believe you’re here sometimes.”

She took her time before speaking again, concern lacing the lines of her face. He decided to twirl her in the meantime, wanting any clouds on her face gone. A faint smile was back when she returned to face him.

“Why is that?”

“It’s just… For so long, I feel like I’ve been looking at you from afar and now…” He didn’t finish the sentence with his words, tucking a stray tendril behind her ear instead, saying now I can touch you, now I am with you, now I’m looking in you.

She leaned into his touch tenderly, cheek fitting in his palm like it should. “I know it didn’t always feel like it but… I've been looking for you my whole life, James.” Her eyelashes brushed the top of his thumb, lighter than feather. “I just didn’t know it then.”

And he kissed her because what could he do besides kiss her in this moment?

His other hand went to her neck, desperate to hold her, fingers tangling in her hair with need. She sighed into his mouth, the sweetest breath James ever took in, molding into him like soft clay. There wasn’t a spot in his body that wasn’t touching hers and it still didn’t feel like enough. Her hands clutched above his heart, praying, like she still needed him to ground her. They didn’t leave him even when they broke apart for air.

There was something very intoxicating about breathing in the same air as Lily Evans as her eyes crackled, burned, and flared.

He rested his forehead on hers, the faintest of touches, trying to make up for the absence of her lips on his. The radio was playing on, another slow number filling the air like mist. There was sleep dripping from his eyes, but he had never been so sure that he wasn’t dreaming.

“Would you like to stay awhile before we went to the dorms?” he whispered. Everything had to be hushed right now, it felt like.

She gave her answer with a kiss, shorter than before, still as sweet.

They sat on the couch by the fireplace together, limbs tangled, sweet nothings sighed into ears. When she was between his arms like this, back pressing to his chest, it all seemed to fade away, nothing but her floral scent left behind. Kisses fluttered above her freckles, her pulse, the little scar on her knee; lips pressed to palms, imprinting. To be in her embrace was warmth itself, spreading from deep within, belly to fingertips. Her hands found their way back to his hair every time; once in the pretense of flicking it back, twice for an emphasis on a joke, ruffling it lovingly, and any other time just because she damn pleased. An affectionate Lily was a force to be reckoned with.

The physical aspect of it was nothing new, but everything else behind it took his breath away still, the scraps of her he had before fading away in memories, when a whole Lily Evans was in front of him. Comparing the Lily he was holding in his arms right now to the faint impression of the Lily he had before was not something he did frequently, but on nights like this, when her fingers traced a burning path on his heart, hair tickling his neck, breaths mixed in, he felt like he understood.

To the surprise of no one, they did fall asleep in the office that night, heads getting heavier with the exhaustion of being loved so thoroughly. They didn’t make it into a habit, although the couch looked so tempting at nights, the silent sneaking of the morning after always fresh in their minds. He did suggest from time to time that maybe an invisibility cloak could be the answer to all of their walk of shame related problems, but Lily heard none of it, face getting redder every time she remembered their friends’ teasing in the morning.

That was alright by James as there were many mornings ahead of them waking up together, not that many but he didn’t know that yet, there were many nights filled with music and dancing. Still, he held the memory of this night close to his heart, cherished on the warmest and the coldest days; the night he woke up from the dream and Lily Evans looked at him.

[helenazbmrskai]

Shush

Wow. I think this is the filthiest and the most messed up shit I’ve ever written in my whole life send me holly water pls (after you enjoyed reading this duh) I don’t know how this idea popped up in my mind one night but yeah don’t come at me.

💊Title ‹ Shush ›

💊Pairing ‹ Jimin x OC (f) ›

💊Genre ‹ adopted brother au, forbidden/unhealthy romance, smut, angst › 

💊Summary ‹ Forbidden fruit always taste the sweetest and when the fruit comes in the form of an innocent boy it’s even sweeter. ›

💊Warnings ‹ emotional manipulation, discussions about an incurable disease, unhealthy relationship dynamics, some fluff, multiple smut scenes filthy so be aware!, mention (and brief description) of sexual fantasies, sub! Jimin, soft domme! OC, teasing, mention of porn watching, brief imagined masturbation, corruption kink, first time, virgin! Jimin, blowjob, handjob, good boy Jiminie, jealous OC, oral (f), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this be safe!), exhibitionism, marking/biting, almost getting caught, dirty talk, riding, pls keep in mind that this is only fiction! don’t do this folks ›

💊Word count ‹ 6k ›

💊Masterlist

Brushing the snowflakes off my coat’s shoulder, I take a look around the spacious living room soaking in the warmth and waiting for my fingers to defrost, hearing nothing besides the wind that blows outside. Checking the clock on the wall I recall that mom should be still at work at this time around, nothing’s new.

I silently make my way upstairs then halting once I’m in front of Jimin’s bedroom door that has a big J on it. Mom would be upset if she knew I didn’t check on him first thing when I got home so I knocked once then twice before I heard muffled noises from the other side and the shuffle of sheets followed by a loud bang of something hard suddenly hitting the ground. The sound itself quite concerningly rings in your ears.

”Are you alright?” I place my palm on the wooden surface concentrating on the noises that I faintly hear filtering through the door, biting down on my lip as I still didn’t get an answer from him.

”Ok. I’m coming in!” I tell him after a couple of seconds of silence, I gave him enough time to yell out that he’s fine. I’m ready to burst through the door when his voice squeaks out a tiny unconvincing ’I’m good.’ but my hand is already on the doorknob. His body lays slightly off the bed when I enter his room, the bed under him is unmade and his hair is dishevelled sticking to different angles from all the tossing and turning looking soft, wearing only a thin white shirt and pyjama pants to bed. Probably haven’t gotten up from it all day.

”You fell off the bed again?” I chuckle, sending him an amused look spiced with an arched eyebrow – it’s not the first time I see him in this position – shaking my head from side to side, though my eyes reveal that I’m not angry just amused. I grab both his knees and help him to lay flat against the pillows just like he was most likely laying before. His eyes glow like a lightstick with a beaming smile on his face.

”Y/N, you’re home early.” Arching up a brow himself he situates his body to rest his back against the headboard interrogating the cause of my early arrival with a slightly hoarse voice. Jimin looks into a specific direction frequently enough for me to spot his staring. I reply to his statement with a roll of my eyes brushing his hair gently to the side after I checked he indeed has no fever. Giving him the benefit of the doubt that I have no idea he’s trying to hide something I smile back.

I scan through his room hoping to find out by the order of things are placed what he was doing before I got home, it’s easy to spot the differences since I’m the one who usually cleans in here but besides his laptop that sits on the far end of the bed instead of the desk, nothing else seems out of place.

”Why? Were you doing something you shouldn’t be?” I grin, at first the question was intended to be innocent but watching how Jimin’s face contorts into a scandalized look I know he’s up to no good. His expression soon gets replaced with shyness unintentionally a boyish blush spreads across his rosy cheeks. It gets me even more curious.

He gained some weight over the past weeks so his features are almost healthily filled out, the new medication seems to work better than the doctors had anticipated and right now he has minimal symptoms.

Mom must be pleased by the outcome, he regained so much colour to his pale skin too. I witnessed all his ups and lows, I still remember the day I met him. He was in a bad shape, bedridden, so pale and skinny like a skeleton. He couldn’t even sit up on his bed to greet me and when he opened his eyes hearing my mom’s voice calling out to him I came face to face with his teary eyes, hands grabbing his chest to ease the pain that he felt crawling his way up from under his ribcage as a silent tear rolled down his cheeks. He got better when mom decided to take him out of the care system and switched doctors to look after his further treatment.

I regarded him as a responsibility at the beginning of our relationship made sure he took his medication between meals just like my mother instructed. Cleaned his room and made him food when my mother was busy with work. She’s a nurse at the local hospital, she left me alone with him a lot, her job consumes a lot of her time so I had to take care of him almost every day after school even had to take a few days off so I can stay at home when his condition started to get worse and he needed more supervision than usual.

Be that as it may, he had his better days that I started to like so much, spending time with him stopped being an obligation and instead, the time spent together started to be the highlights of my days.

Listening to his angelic laugh, having him listen to me talking about my day. No boy or man ever paid this much genuine attention to me, only him. He has his eyes only on me.

His fierce response makes me come to my senses, dragging me out of my own consuming thoughts.

”Of course not!” He defensively spats my hands away when I try to pinch his cheeks. He looks very pretty when the sun shines on his face. He looks like an angel.

”Oh really? I guess it’s fine then to show me your laptop’s search history. How about right now?” I move faster than he can snatch the device so I’m able to get it and open his tab before he even lets a leg down to plant his feet on the ground.

However, I was not expecting to find something this interesting in his log history. Looking between the screen and his red face I tilt my head to the side seemingly deep in my thoughts. It’s not that I never acknowledged the fact that he’s a man in his mid-twenties and because of his unfortunate susceptibility to having a systemic autoimmune disease he never had the chance to socialise like it’s a norm for most people. The only other’s he meet day by day are my mother and I since he can’t go out because of his photosensitivity.

Maybe I could blame the stars that never flickered out of his naive eyes for the past ten years I’ve known him for not thinking that Jimin could have dirty thoughts. Well, this porn page clearly states otherwise.

I know it’s inappropriate to think about Jimin, my adopted brother, in this way but I can’t find it in me to stop the spiralling thoughts.

Wondering if he masturbates while watching these videos when I’m in school. How he grabs his cock with shaky hands, cute fingers coated in his precum. Wondering if he uses the same hand to hold mine innocently after he did dirty things to himself. I subconsciously rub my thighs together to ease some of the tension that gathered between my thighs, even fantasising about him makes me feel hot.

I feel bad thinking about him inappropriately when he’s sick but I can’t seem to feel the shame when I look directly into his bright eyes now. The rational part of my brain screams that it’s inappropriate even though we are not blood-related.

Heck, not at all as mom adopted him when his last remaining family member, his father died ten years ago.

Jimin’s facial expression is like an open book I read him so well. Poor boy can’t even lie everything he thinks about is apparent on his pretty face.

Afraid that I’ll call him names he lowers his gaze, waiting for me to tell him that I’m disappointed and disgusted by him now that I discovered his dirty little secret that he rubs one out to porn but oh boy he has no idea. That I think about him in a way a sister shouldn’t. That there is nothing wrong with being curious. He has all the right to be. It’s easy to forget he’s older than me when I’m the more experienced one in everything.

”Hey it’s ok,” I get to my previous position, sitting down on the edge of his bed right next to his waistline. I curl a finger under his chin to level his face with mine, showing him a small smile indicating that everything’s gonna be alright.

”I watch porn sometimes too, there’s nothing to be ashamed of here Jiminie. It’s only natural to be curious about it. It’s human nature.” He avoids making eye contact but a tiny nod in my direction shows me that he’s listening.

”If you want I promise I’ll forget that this ever happened. Do you want that honey?” Nudging his pinky with mine I offer him the chance to change the topic to something light.

”You won’t tell mom about it, right?” Nodding my head in agreement I assure him that this piece of information can be our secret and no one has to know that this conversation ever happened. It appears to calm him down gradually as he finally reciprocates my gaze and sighs in relief. What you didn’t expect to hear after that, however, was an explanation of why he started watching porn.

”I want to know how it feels.” Jimin admits shyly, looking around to avoid my eyes as he tells me his hidden thoughts and I find him truly endearing. The previous tense atmosphere seems to completely fade away as Jimin relaxes his muscles against the bedsheet and opens up his heart.

”What? Sex?” I asked, watching his reactions closely as I experimentally place my palm above his right knee. An innocent touch.

Jimin shivers into the contact but other than that nothing remarkably changes in his behaviour or posture. He pays careful attention to not let his feelings show up on his otherwise expressive face. Cute. Sooner or later I’ll know how he really feels about my advances as he can’t keep pretending for long. He was never good at it.

”Yes. They seem to like it so much when I’m watching those videos.” Humming approvingly I rest a manicured nail at the edge of his waistband, this earns a sharp inhale of breath but he doesn’t try to remove my touch that indicates he’s not uncomfortable with me touching him. He doesn’t seem bothered, just a little sheepish.

”You know, a video is nothing compared to the real thing.” I let a single finger slide under his shirt drawing circles into his hipbone eyes watching the way his chest moves up and down a little faster at that.

”What a shame that you don’t know pretty girls to have sex with.” Deciding it’s time to remove my hand I’m letting the limb fall to my side lazily. Jimin’s lips immediately form a pout after I stop making advances on his body, showing me that he was expecting something more. All this time I thought he doesn’t see me like I see him but maybe I was wrong assuming that. Gaining confidence I decide it’s time to push his buttons a little more.

”I’m sure girls would form long lines to get into your pants baby. I wouldn’t be surprised since you are so pretty.” The praise makes his ears bright red, mother did a good job with giving him a boyish undercut a good fashion choice to leave the tips longer so I can easily comb my fingers through it, curling a few strays behind his ears.

”Y-Y/N.” A breathy moan leaves his lips as I kiss the underside of his jaw on impulse, finding stability by grabbing onto his thighs to lean closer and breathe in his clean scent. I push him against the headboard but he doesn’t mind it at all, too lost in the moment, feeling my lips on his throat to register any pain.

I pull away slightly to reconnect our eyes. Jimin licks his dry lips, not having anyone to talk to until I arrived home, he kept his mouth shut only feeling now how dry his throat is all of the sudden.

A ghost of a smile appears in the corner of my mouth as I realise Jimin is watching my lips not even trying to conceal his desire to have another taste of the forbidden fruit. This is so wrong but his lips are so light against mine, afraid that if I apply pressure somehow this moment will end and I don’t want this to ever end but as the saying goes, nothing lasts forever in life.

The magical moment ends when I hear my mother’s voice from downstairs. ”Y/N, Jimin I’m home!”

The cheerful voice of my mother abruptly interrupts our first shared kiss, not letting him chase the taste of my cherry lip balm I place a small peck on his nose instead yelling back that we’re upstairs and we’ll be down in a minute.

”No need to rush,” I peck his forehead this time, giving his face small kisses to lift his mood. It’s comical how disappointed he looks with his nose scrunched up adorably. He really has no shame as he sighs licking his lips to taste the remaining flavour of our kiss.

”We can continue this tomorrow, we have so much time, I promise...”

And continue we do. True to my word I comply with his request pulling the oversized t-shirt over my head to reveal him my black lacy bra and the curve of my waist. His eyes devour the new uncovered flesh hands lingering in the air itching to touch my bare skin but too shy to do it without my permission. He remains frozen in the act. Dreamy eyes watching my reaction to his shy movements silently asking for a sign that it is alright to touch. He’s so curious he wants to hear those noises the couples always make in his videos.

I nod putting him out of his misery cradling his hand in mine to place the warm palm onto my covered breast I guide his movements fondling the flesh, his touch feels good despite the barrier between his skin and mine.

Slipping his hand under the cup his finger comes into contact with my nipple I show him how to circle the bud until it gets erect a small sigh escaping my lips. I had the sudden urge to steal a kiss so I leaned in to grab the back of his neck and crush our lips together no tongue just lips touching sweetly.

I removed his touch to intertwine our fingers placing both of our hands to rest against the bed leaning into his mouth more.

”Is that all that you want me to do?” I murmur the words into his mouth, encouraging him to say more, to do more. Jimin swallows the saliva in his mouth gaze significantly cloudy as he stares into my eyes, shaking his head. He got so far the current thoughts in his head are clearly not about stopping anytime soon.

”What else do you want then?” I press him to answer my question, following the line of his upper lip with my thumb smearing the lip balm that got transferred from my lips to his while kissing, Jimin took a shaky breath before opening his mouth.

”Y-your tongue.” His tongue seemingly came out subconsciously to wet his lips I closed my eyes moaning at the sinful image. He really did his research, I’m about to give him everything he wants if he keeps up with these innocent yet so dirty looks.

”Where do you want it?” I grin moving closer so our thighs are firmly pressed together letting go of his hand to cup his face with both hands. Bending my head to peck the outline of his vein on his neck his pulse quickens under my touch. Pleased to have had such a great effect on him.

”In my mouth.” He squeaks out his response when I bite into his shoulder careful not to really pierce his skin but let him feel a moderate amount of pain mixed with his pleasure. I smooth my tongue where I bit making sure that I don’t leave any marks on his perfect skin. I don’t want our mother to ask questions later.

”Hm,” I hum into his neck satisfied by the answer before lining our faces again to fulfil his wish. ”Open.” As soon as I command his lips part obediently waiting for me to slip my tongue into his awaiting mouth.

”Jimin. Can I touch you?” I sigh into his mouth, he tastes so sweet I can’t seem to get my fill as I discover every corner of his hot cavern licking the roof teasing him before letting our wet muscles touch in a heated battle for dominance. Jimin gets greedy soon as he pushes my tongue back to do the exploration of his own, the kiss turns sloppy and too much saliva. Hands clutching onto the duvet under him grounding his body swimming in euphoria from falling too deep into the feeling.

”Yes, please.” Our eyes open slightly to watch each other my mouth founds the corner of his lips then the side of his cheek and jaw before diving back in parting his lips with my tongue to continue tasting him.

With a feather-light touch, I snake my hands upwards his thin frame and tiny waist feels so fragile under my fingers. I want to pepper his torso with my kisses pushing his body down using his shoulders to see his weight bounce on the bed. But I can’t get so ahead of myself, Jimin deserves to be worshipped like the angel he is.

”Lay down on your back Jiminie.” I smile seeing how obedient he is following my orders without any complaints or questions. He trusts me so much.

The thought alone that he is under me letting me have my ways with him makes my underwear sit uncomfortably against my heat when I move my legs to straddle his hips I feel how drenched I am for him. So pretty and so eager under me as his head rests on the pillows he truly looks like an innocent angel.

I motion for Jimin to raise his arms so I can get rid of his shirt and finally do what I intended to do and kiss his body starting from his collarbones all the way to the line where his pyjama pants hide the delicious lines of his hip bones.

I press kisses of praises into his shoulder blades moving down following the line of his sternum to give attentive licks and pecks all over his stomach feeling his muscles tensing under my lips whines and other sweet sounds slipping out of his parted lips as he breathes heavily through his nose with his eyes closed.

When I let a couple of fingers slide under his pants I realise the lack of material under my touch. He’s not wearing his boxers. The outline of his dick is evident when I look down he’s not that long but where he lacks his grith makes up for it as I can already imagine how good he would feel buried in me stretching my walls so good.

”Do you want me to touch your pretty cock darling?” I don’t forget to ask for permission even though by now I can clearly see how much he wants all this. The sight itself, how his member strains against the concealing fabric is an awfully clear giveaway of his growing desires. Jimin maintains our eye contact with hooded eyes nodding his head fervently before he can confirm his needs with words. His body burns but not with fever.

”I..yes, please. I w-want you to.” Jimin squirms waiting for me to do something that would relieve some of the tension in his joints. His cock feels heavy in my hand ready to sink into my cunt anytime, I can’t wait to put my mouth around it first but I have to be patient. I circle a digit around the tip testing how much precum he has for me.

Holding the digit up to my lips I taste the slightly salty substance humming approvingly. Tugging his pants down I get to work giving a kiss to the tip before coating his member with my saliva so I can lubricate his shaft enough so it won’t hurt him. His whole body shakes when my mouth makes contact with his cock his virgin body overwhelmed with the new sensation the little pleasure already too much for him to handle.

I make a mental note about grabbing some lube on my way home tomorrow so I can be prepared for situations like this. My lips suddenly widen into a Cheshire grin as I deliver the last lick all the way up to the hilt replacing my mouth with my hand.

”Jiminie look here for a little.” I coax him to open his eyes again with a sweet voice. ”Like that darling.” I praise him when his eyes met mine, choosing the moment his gaze connects with mine to use the same hand that pleasured him to glide under my jeans and underwear mixing my arousal with his precum I moan for the show as I rub my clit before collecting my essence so I can use it on his dick giving him the needed extra lubricant.

Jimin’s eyes don’t stay open for long when I finally touch him properly with the intent of making him cum. He can’t seem to keep his moans and throaty whines to himself as I give him a confident grip increasing the speed of my wrist when his whines became more high pitched his body gives away all the signs when he shakes under my touch that he’s close embarrassingly fast but I don’t mind, it’s his first time after all. We can always work on his stamina later.

”Relax baby and just enjoy this.” I encourage him to let go, massaging his thighs with my free hand to relax his strained muscles, slowing down my strokes but give special treatment to the tip collecting the forming precum. ”There’s no need for you to hold back.” I peck his hip picking up my pace again for a few moments longer before taking him into my mouth waiting for him to cum swirling my tongue over the tip repeatedly.

”Y-Y/N.” My name comes out in moans like a broken record when he finally lets all the tension seep away from his body letting the building pleasure force him into submission as he cums into my mouth his body goes limp when the pleasure fades away after I let him ride out his high with gentle licks.

I place the duvet over his sleepy form after I help him back into his clothes, tucking him in as I kiss his cheek to say ’sleep tight’ with the gesture.

I toss the food around on my plate in front of me tentatively listening to the conversation held between my parent and her guest but not engaging, sinking my fork into the broccoli angrily as I hear Natalie’s sugar-coated voice destined for only Jimin’s ears to catch.

She leeched herself onto him as soon as she stepped into this house annoying me with saying stuff like ’you have such a nice brother’ just to emphasise my relation to him. Even my mom takes her side saying that they look cute together.

I know she wants Jimin to socialise, that’s why this dinner is purposefully held in the first place but I can’t seem to show a different emotion than disgust when I look at Natalie trying to woo my Jimin. She will never know how he sounds when he’s about to blow his load or how he would taste against her tongue because only I can see that side of him no one else, and especially not her.

  His ears are red from her constant compliments and I swear I even saw her hand grip his shoulder when she laughed about something my mom said, he shies away from her because he never kept a conversation going on with another girl that wasn’t me or my mom before but that doesn’t mean jealousy doesn’t bubble up in my chest when he doesn’t deny her advances explicitly.

The dinner continues for an awfully long time before I could excuse myself from the table to hide away in my room and peacefully start yelling into my pillow to relieve my pent up frustration throughout this unpleasant meal.

Either Jimin genuinely didn’t have a clue what she was implying or he was aware but fine with it I don’t want to waste any more time and watch her all over him. I continued sulking in my room when I heard a knock on my door grunting a ’yes’ before I resembled smashing my keyboard I suddenly felt the urge to complete that assignment I procrastinated on so I can keep my mind focused on something else.

I avert my gaze from the screen to see who’s my intruder but I refocus on my computer when I see it’s Jimin. I’m not in the mood to talk to him right now since the picture of Natalie all over him is the first image to enter my mind.

”What? Dinner’s over so soon?” I’m careful to use an unaffected tone when I speak up, holding myself back from making eye contact even though I would love to see his face, we haven’t got time all day to talk or cuddle at all since I had to help my mother all evening to prepare for this dinner that was a waste of time anyway.

Jimin stays silent not bothering to answer my question but I still refuse to look at him as I pretend to be absorbed in my work. Even if it’s far from reality when the only thing consuming my thoughts right now is that I want him to tell me no one else is going to touch him only I can make him feel that good. That he wants. No, needs only me.

”A-are you angry? Please don’t be.” I still don’t turn around and looks like it makes him desperate for my attention he thugs at my blouse but I don’t react.

I want him to panic take over his body so he won’t do this to me again. I have to busy my fingers with typing so I don’t move to card my fingers through his locks like I long to do when he lays his head on my lap kneeling on the ground to do so. I don’t push his head away but doesn’t react either.

Half an hour passes in this manner, only my typing is heard in the otherwise silent room Jimin’s head still resting on my thighs hands circling my waist. I’m halfway done with my assignment when I feel Jimin’s nose nudge my centre. I showered after I excused myself from the dinner to blow off some steam and calm down grabbing only a pair of underwear and a shirt to cover my body with.

Jimin placed a kiss on my clothed clit making my body jerk in surprise forcing me with his bold actions to finally look at him our gaze locks as soon as I look down. Jimin folds the sides of my blouse so he can get access to the rest of my underwear following my panty line with his nose.

”Can I make it up to you?” Jimin looks up with innocent eyes that have my stomach twist in excitement but I try not to show him how much he can affect me as well. I’ll still make him pay for his actions.

”So you know you did something wrong.” I scoff but it ends up in a gasp when he licks the front of my underwear without a warning.

I grip his hair to keep him in place holding him close enough so his head still rests on my thighs but not that close to letting him lick my centre again. He’s playing dangerous games right now but I don’t know if I have it in me to be gentle with him.

”You should stop before I can’t guarantee that I won’t lose my control.” I warn him through my gritted teeth, closing my eyes for a moment to focus on my breathing, his eyes grew bigger for a moment before the previous shocked expression morphs into something else.

He can’t reach my cunt from where he’s restrained by my hands so he licks the inner side of my thigh his teeth nibbling on my sensitive skin.

  I loosen my grip on his hair smoothing the silky locks out of his eyes but he cleverly uses the gesture to scoot forward and have another taste placing a more confident lick stretching the rubberband side of my panty with his teeth sliding his hands over my stomach that was previously so obediently circling my waist.

”You don’t have to do it.” I remind him, feeling out of breath from his kitten licks over my clothed mound.

”I know.” Jimin replies with a sweet smile adorning his face before he pulls my underwear down my legs slowly, watching with interest as I part my legs so he can have a good look at my glistening core.

”The girls from the videos always like it when the boy does this.” Jimin murmurs under his breath absentmindedly before rubbing my clit with his fingertips his digits dipping lower to catch where most of my arousal gathers a single digit nudging my entrance. I part my legs more so he can get more comfortable between them I let him get familiar with my most intimate part before I pull his hand away with shaky fingers.

”Taste it.” I order for him to pop his fingers into his mouth licking my arousal clean from them and he doesn’t disappoint as he does.

Now that his fingers are coated with his saliva I guide it back to my core. ”Want your finger in me.” I throw my head back when he enters, my walls sucking his finger in his movements are inexperienced and uncoordinated but I let him experiment until he gets the hang of it, and oh when he does. His one finger turns into two soon as he finds the best way to pound into my wet cunt curling the digits just the right way to make me see stars. ”Doing so good Jiminie.” I tell him between heavy pants as the rhythmical hard thrusts of his fingers starts to become too much to handle I feel my insides tighten just like my walls tighten around his fingers getting closer and closer.

I open my eyes to watch him lean down his hair tickling my inner thighs as he nestles between my legs licking at my clit while the movement of his hand never falters, the new stimulus that his visual between my legs and his tongue on my nub adds to the feeling, making me come undone around his fingers.

”Stand up baby.” I motion for him to stand as well, his finger slips out of my hole, with a confused expression plastered on his face but doesn’t question my intentions as he obligates standing on his wobbly feet I let him sit down to where I was before straddling his hips.

”Are you going to let me ride your cock? Make you mine?” I ask him using my sweetest tones before slowly kissing his lips making sure to map out his mouth once more before turning my attention to kiss the expanse of his neck.

”Yes. Fuck yes.” The way how the curse word slipped through his mind without him noticing is endearing, he can always surprise me with something doesn’t matter how much time I dedicate to learning his body and soul, he’ll always have layers to discover. These good days sometimes even weeks when his illness hides its ugly face into the background are so precious that I wish we could always be like this.

I situate my body so I can pull his sweats down I pleasantly discover that he doesn’t wear his underwear when his dick slaps against his stomach. I reach for one of the drawers where I know I placed the lube.

I squeeze some into my hand before wrapping my fingers around his fully hardened shaft smearing the lube over him Jimin whines when he feels the cold liquid hit his hot member moaning once I roll my wrist the way he seems to like so much. Have enough of the foreplay I position him in front of my entrance making eye contact with him before taking him in letting him have the chance of backing out.

Jimin’s thighs shake as I take him in fully he tries muffling his moans by biting down on my shoulder so our guests don’t find out what we are doing in my room. With a smirk on my face, I roll my hips getting the best responses as Jimin tries to hold back his cries tightening his hold on my waist to slow my thrusts down but I don’t listen to him as I start to grind down on him letting his member pull out almost all the way before sinking down enjoying how good he fills me up.

I slow down as a knock is heard at my door Jimin’s eyes widen in fear but I don’t let him move an inch as I silently take my seat with his cock buried between my folds he holds back a moan when I clench around him.

”Mom?” I call out to her, my voice a bit shaky but I was able to mask it away enough that it doesn’t sound suspicious.

”Are you alright? Can I come in?” I hear her worried voice, she probably heard Jimin’s louder cries and she thinks something’s wrong. At this moment I’m really glad that my mom is very dense.

”I’m feeling unwell so I’m going to sleep immediately but you go and have fun with the guests don’t worry.” I offer her my reply as I circle my waist can’t keep still as Jimin’s dick feels heavenly it shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does seeing how pathetically he tries to prevent my mother from hearing his moans but his innocent facade can’t fool me as I feel him twitch inside me as I talk to my mother while he’s balls deep in my cunt. I wonder if he wants us to get caught or that he would like me to fuck him in front of Natalie on our dining table so she can see she never had a chance with him.

”Fine but come and get me if you need anything.” She leaves with these last words without further protests and I thank her while bouncing on Jimin’s lap silencing his cries by kissing him hard. 

”What mom would think if she saw you in this situation Jiminie? Fucking me while you pretend to be an angel in front of her. Kissing her cheek with the same lips that were buried between my legs moments prior.” I whisper next to the shell of his ear he lets out embarrassed whines but I can feel him enjoy how I fuck myself using him.

My thighs ache as I increase the pace feeling so close again I guide Jimin’s hand between our bodies to make him rub at my clit he does it messily but it’s enough stimulation as I cum again watching as Jimin’s eyes squeezed shut close to reach his own high.

[tempestsreach-blog]

Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long.  It’s going to be rambly.  It’s going to be sad.  It’s going to be angry.  There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though. 

Fuck diet culture.  Let me say that again.  Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life.  I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.  The only way to heal is to go through.  I can’t go back.  I have to move forward.  But I can’t do it quietly.  I can’t hide.  I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in.  Literally.  40 years of my life wasted to this.  I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way.  What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me.  That’s okay.  Truly.  This is about ME.  This is to help ME heal.  You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot.  I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore.  Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain.  One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad.  I should go to the doctor.  I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it.  Want to know why I didn’t?  My weight.  I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me.  I don’t feel this way irrationally.  This shit happens.  I am in pain.  I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work.  Not long term.  I am excellent at losing weight!  I’ve done it over and over and over.  Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself.  Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not.  I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much.  Did you count those calories?  How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that?  Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time.  Every meal.  Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder.  Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun.  Cabbage soup.  Phen Fen.  Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting,  and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results.  I’ve purchased fancy scales.  I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app.  Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death.  I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself.  I am the failure.  So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids.  My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard.  Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings.  It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable?  We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat.  Or skinny if we’re really being honest.  How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny.  Feed her a damn cheeseburger!  She looks anorexic.”  I know I have.  I know I’ve said those words.  I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.  

Every body is different.  We are supposed to be.  Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing.  Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended.  My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man.  He’s just a big man.  He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man.  My mother was not tall, but was always large.  I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way.  Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large.  That was the way her body was.  I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated.  How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work”  I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.”  NO.  

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing.  Suffering in silence.  Hiding food. Restricting.  Binging.  Over exercising to compensate.  Spending money on one last diet.  Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly.  I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time.  One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty.  My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me.  It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin”  Pretty on other people.  Other people are pretty.  Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming.  In big ways and little ways.  I’m 5 ft 9.  I’m not a tiny person at any weight.  I’ve always been told I’m too big.  Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive.  This is subconscious.  I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets.  “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.”  or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then.  Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure.  Why bother?  Fuck it.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”  That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality.  If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life.  The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet.  So much life wasted.  The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies.  I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment.  I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been.  I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies.  The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures.  True story.  This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me.  IT’s what my brain said to me.  It’s how I de-valued myself.  There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food.  I daydream about food.  Food I “shouldn’t” eat.  Food I “should” eat.  When to eat.  When not to eat.  Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food.  I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food.  If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it.  This is going to take me a long time to break free from.  Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body.  Food is not good or bad.  Food is food.  I have to say these things.  I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again.  None of this is work anyone can do for me.  I have to live it.  I have to work through it.  I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands.  If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it.  This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind.  I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment.  I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them.  Airing this out is one of those things for me.  It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion.  I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this.  I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives.  Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are.  I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject.  They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

[ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey]

A Secure guy

Written for the Hinny Ficfest 2021. 

Thank you @clarensjoy for organizing this! Really! We're so lucky to have you!!

@thedistantdusk , you're a sweetheart and I love you. Thank you again for everything. That was the sweetest surprise.

Prompts:

#66: “That was the last time. I’m serious this time.”

#85: “She deserves flowers and gifts and a secure guy who isn’t almost murdered by lunatics left and right and I can’t give her that.”

Also available on Ao3.

TW: Rated M just in case. And really angsty.

She deserved flowers and gifts and a secure guy who wasn’t almost murdered by lunatics left and right and he couldn’t give her that.

Harry knew it was a matter of time, he wasn’t that stupid or delusional. 

He just hoped it’d never come and the emotions jostling in his heart hurt like hell, so much more he’d thought it would.

The bed bounced when she retrieved her jumper from the floor of his room and got dressed. 

“That was the last time. I’m serious this time,” Ginny murmured in the night, hooking her bra behind her back, her voice colder than ever before. 

Harry contented himself to nod, unable to come up with a reply anyway. The ball in his throat suffocated him, and yet, to his despair, he wasn’t dying. 

She meant it this time, it was evident. He had to resign himself that it was over, the end of a story, of a story he had himself destroyed. Ginny had turned the page and it wasn’t her fault if he was still stuck in the past.

It was over. Never again would the tips of his fingers graze her hot skin, his palms brush her thighs, his lips skim her face or his nails scratch at her back. 

It would be someone else’s task now, he reckoned. 

She hadn’t looked at him at all this time, keeping her eyes shut, her lips away from his, like it was now forbidden to cross that line. He’d noticed the difference right away, leaving him tight-lipped. His lips had searched hers but she’d turned her head, her long hair colliding with his face. His heart racing, his movements unsteady, he’d tried again, but she’d pulled back completely, increasing the speed of her hips connecting with his, her hands clutching his biceps.

Harry understood at this instant that something had changed in their intimate relationship, that she wasn’t interested to share that part of her with him anymore. He contented himself to observe her while he was trying to pleasure her, her silhouette blurred from his lack of glasses. He cherished every pant and sigh coming from her lips, touching, with a heavy heart, these sections of her body only he knew of.

For now. 

It had killed him to not feel her trembling on him from the intensity of their love-making. Ginny had  jumped from him the second she finished like he’d burned her. Clenching his jaw,  he realized another man would have that chance now, and that he should have relished in it more the last time they had been together. He hadn’t expected it, as stupid as it sounded, and now he was let trying to grasp at every single souvenirs of it he could recover in his memory. 

Thus far, she’d stayed close to him in bed after, her head on his chest, her sweet smelling hair tickling his chin, just like before he decided to fuck it up.

But he prefered to crush his dream life then to live with the possibility of endangering her.

She got off of the bed, the sheet moving from his bare chest at the same time. He couldn’t look at her getting dressed or leaving his room for the last time, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to bear it, that it would be the last image of them sharing something intimate together. 

It was his decision and he couldn’t expect her to act like he hadn’t broken up with her. 

Again. 

His eyes stung, and yet, he did nothing to stop it, too devastated to sooth the pain. He stared at the ceiling of his room, arms crossed over his heart, attempting to protect the last bit of dignity he could gather. 

The door closed behind her, the click reasonating in his ears, and he was left alone to face his intolerable heartache like a big boy. But it hurt more than knowing you were the only one to save the world, more than wishing your mum would rock you at night after a nightmare, realizing your aunt would probably be willing to do that for anyone else but you. Because you were different, you were dangerous.

Because Ginny had been the only one he’d ever trusted enough to be completely vulnerable in her presence, with whom he’d accepted to share the most private parts of him. Their relationship had been a turning point in his life, raw, essential to his survival. Special enough that she could scream to the world the feel of her lips on his was the principal reason they were rid of Voldemort. 

The first threatening sob escaped his lips, the sound breaking the silence of the room, and then another, and another, and he found himself unable to control his shaken body.

Rolling on his side, he brought up his knees to his chest, struggling to breathe, the flow of his tears flooding his pillow. 

He deserved the pain. He deserved it. Because he was different, too dangerous, and Ginny couldn’t be with him. 

He grasped his comforter, bringing it to his nose in hope it was filled with her flowery scent and he could get the impression she was here, close to him. Just one last time. Just once.

Crying convulsively, shedding tear after tear, Harry didn’t even hear when the door creaked again. 

“Sorry I forgot my- Harry?!”

He tried, really tried, to stop the last sob from crossing his lips, in vain. Sealing his lips together, Harry hoped Ginny wouldn’t judge him or take pity on him, or worse, fetch Ron. 

He stayed still, hearing his heart pumping in his ears and feeling dizzy from the sadness and anger at himself consuming his insides. 

The mattress sank under Ginny’s weight and Harry felt her feet against his calves. One of her hands settled on his shoulder, the other one taking residence in his hair, tentatively brushing lock after lock. She pressed against his back, her clothes remembering him she didn’t stay this time. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here,” she whispered in his ear.

“You-you don’t want to be here,” he managed to reply, shame rousing inside him. Harry was mortified she found him in a ball on his bed after they just had sex. His chagrin  was eating him alive, sending him spiralling in a dark void where he could only feel hatred and disgust for himself, but also heartache and something related to agony, he was sure of it. 

The silence stretched a moment until Harry sniffed, his hand squeezing the comforter tighter against his chest. An owl hooted outside, reviving Harry’s melancholy at not having Hedwig to talk to, with whom he could share without embarrassment his fright of dying without being loved. 

“That’s only because you don’t want me to be here, Harry,” murmured Ginny, her words shattering his heart. Regret burnt in his veins, knowing he’d afflicted Ginny with his deepest terror.

Being dumped, ditched by the person you trusted the most. 

Harry turned on his back, needing her to understand she did nothing wrong, on the contrary, that he never wanted her to feel abandoned or betrayed. But the words died in his throat when he saw her eyes filled with her own tears. 

“I just want to protect you from me,” he pleaded with her to understand. She had to understand.

Ginny closed her eyes, inhaling sharply, the hand that was on his shoulder now playing with the hair on his chest, close to his heart. Harry remembered that time to cherish it, to incrust in his mind the solace her small fingers on his skin brought him, soothing the violent anguish torturing his mind. “You’re hurting me more than anyone else could ever do,” she spat at him.

He sniffed again, her words like a knife twisting his heart. He searched for something to say, for the best way to explain his train of thoughts, but he’d never been the best at formulating his idea. 

“Well, I guess I have nothing else to do here,” said Ginny, and he felt her hand lifting from his chest.

He panicked. “No, no. Stay. Please, Ginny.”

She frowned. “Why? For me to hurt even more when you’ll tell me you didn’t change your mind? That you still don’t want to be with me? Just in case? You can’t, Harry. It can’t continue. You can’t fuck me, kiss me like we were still together, and then expect me to be all good with it when you gently remind me we’re not. It’s destroying me,” Ginny said, her voice cracking. Her hand lifted to her mouth and she closed her eyes before turning her back to him, exactly like she did when he let her alone in her room after their last kiss years ago. 

He let her down so many times.

But all he could think of was that: Was she really thinking he only used her body lately for his own physical needs? How could she have been aware that each time they had touched, it  had been the only times he’d felt alive lately? 

She wasn’t trusting him anymore, just like most people she knew. He was now discarded in the “dangerous category”, the same as Tom.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Swallowing, he pressed his palms to his teary eyes, begging himself to regain control of his emotions. Harry sat up, his hand shaking when he moved it to her back. “Don’t- don’t hide from me.” 

He started caressing her back, feeling more confident with her than he ever felt with any other crying girl. Merlin, he was so messed up, he didn’t even know why Ginny ever wanted him. 

Harry should have realised Ginny's trust was something difficult --maybe impossible-- to regain, and that was why she didn’t turn back, still trying to muffle up her sobs. 

He had to try though, to show her it was real what they ever shared, that he meant it when he told her he loved her. He should have said it more, showed it more.

At this point, Harry didn’t even know what he was doing, his mind confused, his needs, desires, dreams and fears all twirling and colliding in his head. There were still dangers at being with him, to be displayed by his side, to be linked to him, and his anxiety of losing her was strong enough to leave him breathless and choking in fear. Harry was unable to think straight when it happened, ready to do anything to keep her safe.

Yet, he made a mistake. Again. He knew it now. 

“I’m sorry, Gin. I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, laying his forehead on her shoulder. 

The tears started flowing from his eyes again but he didn’t hold them in, knowing it was no use. Not when it came to her being in pain, a pain he caused. 

“I-I don’t,” he tried. “I don’t know what-what to do. I don’t want you to die too.” 

There was a beat, and then Ginny turned, laying her forehead on his, keeping her eyes close. “I understand, I’m terrorized by the idea of you dying too,” she confided to him, her fingers dancing around his wrist. “Just- I’m my own person and it’s my choice who I date. Just act with your heart for once. I’ll deal with your decision, but-”

“Can I kiss you?” whispered Harry, knowing he’d made up his mind. A life without her was meaningless and he was nonfunctional without her love.  His hand went up to her freckled cheek, the skin there so soft compared to his rough palm. 

Taken aback, Ginny swallowed before humming in response. Without opening her eyes, she leaned her mouth to his, her breath warming his chin. The tip of her tongue moisted her lips in the most tantalizing way, causing Harry’s head to spin, and then she crushed her lips to his. 

He kissed her with fervor, with a passion he wasn’t aware he was capable of. She pushed on his chest and he brought her body with his on the mattress. Straddling him, she kissed his neck and he felt himself being consumed with desire, with a powerful lust leaving him panting. Ginny chuckled in his neck  and then lifted her head to look into his eyes, giving him such a sensual smile he groaned in longing. 

Their love-making this time was like he was remembering it: full of intensity and filled with love, little attentions and pure ecstasy. 

"Give me some time," she whispered when they were regaining their breath, her head resting on his chest. “I-I need time.” Harry’s breath hitch and Ginny surely heard it because she lifted her head and moved on him to rest her chin on her hands, which were close to his heart. She kissed his chin tenderly. 

“I love you, I just-”

“I understand,” said Harry, cutting her. Because he did, really did. “I’ll wait. I love you. Forever,” he told her earnestly, caressing her hair and promising himself he’d do all he ever needed to do to get her trust back.

[twilights-800-cats]

Alrighty, I’ve finished Leopardstar’s Honor!

Here we go.

I think it was fine, leaning more towards bland. The saving grace for the story is Leopardstar herself - I think her characterization as a self-assured, somewhat selfish, overconfident cat is very spot on to her other depictions throughout the series. There are so many moments you want to pick her up and say “honey no”... maybe too many, honestly.

As far as criticisms go...

The Story As A Whole

One thing is obvious - the pacing is pretty bad. Not every super edition needs to start off from moment one of a character’s life and with the plot of this story as it stands, I don’t think this one had to. We could’ve easily skipped ahead to Leopard as a young ‘paw and had her relevant incident with Skyheart and the loss of her mother still deeply affect her.

As it is, we don’t spend enough time in any part of Leopardstar’s life to really get something meaningful out of it - relationships develop in leaps and bounds from chapter to chapter before being cut off unceremoniously or lost altogether. The book feels like a game of red light green light.

I think the exception to this is Leopardstar’s life as a warrior - we do spend a good deal of time there... but again, it suffers from the red light green light problem: conflicts stop and start on a whim and nothing’s really given room to breathe or last.

I think the story might’ve been better served to focus more on Leopard decision to form TigerClan. There’s more than enough content to justify the reason why and cutting a death or two might’ve given the TigerClan portions more chances to breathe and be more than just a horrible fearmongering mess. It feels like Leopardstar loses control too suddenly - nothing in this story feels like it’s allowed to be gradual.

One thing I did like, and I wish they had done more with, was Mudfur’s dream - almost every single super edition has a prophecy, and almost all of them suffer for it, but Mudfur’s dream was just that, a dream he had when he was a warrior, a hope that his daughter will rise up and become strong. Despite the uncertainty of that, the narrative still functionally treats the dream as if it were one of those prophecies. I think there was an opportunity there to perhaps lean into Leopardstar’s belief in this dream - especially if Mudfur tore it down later on in the book and used it to bolster Leopardstar’s confidence.

I also don’t think this book really did a lot to sell RiverClan - there’s no mention of the cats decorating their dens, like we’ve seen mentioned in other parts of the series. The distinction between river prey and land prey is something we’ve known since Crookedstar’s Promise. The story does do a bit to point out that RiverClan’s over-reliance on the river is a bad thing, but in the same sentences it destroys any sort of realism with how the river prey is described! Erins, do you have any idea how big salmon and carp are?! Do you understand how large a cat is?

RiverClan’s camp is also really poorly described, honestly. Nothing about it stood out to me, it didn’t feel like a place. Nowhere in RiverClan territory felt at all real because the names the cats gave them were given so little importance and we have no idea where anything is. There’s hardly any time spent describing RiverClan... ever. This is a massive, massive shame, since this is the first RiverClan content we’ve gotten in a very long time - and the first book of the next series is possibly also RiverClan-focused. It doesn’t inspire confidence.

The story is moving by the Redtail’s Debt retcon. No mention is made of Oakheart dying from a rockfall, and his death is treated as ThunderClan’s fault for the entire story - which would be fine if it were Leopard’s own delusion due to her hatred of ThunderClan, but that’s just not the case.

Obviously there are timeline inconsistencies as well, the largest one being ShadowClan warriors in the camp a chapter before it’s even mentioned that Leopardstar let them in. It was very strange to read. Events just seemed off from when they were meant to happen, but then again there’s not a whole lot of setting to anchor a reader in even what phase of the moon you’re in.

The Relationships

It’s safe to say the relationships in this book also suffer from the red light green light pacing. As soon as the reader - and Leopardstar - grow attached to a character... they’re killed. It reminded me of Bluestar’s Prophecy, like they were trying to evoke that same feeling of grief... but these characters have so little time to actually endear themselves to us, and there are so many of them, that it becomes fairly obvious that Leopardstar just isn’t meant to have friends!

Not only that but I honestly think the story missed a huge opportunity in the friendships that it chose to focus on.

I’ve spoken about her "romance” with Frogleap, but I’ll reiterate here: it’s weak, but not worthless. I wish there was more to it, more scenes of Leopard choosing the Clan over him, but it is what it is. I could’ve done without her constantly thinking of whether or not she should’ve been with him, though.

Whiteclaw was fine, and by extension I think Sunfish was fine, too, if only to serve the Whiteclaw sideplot, which I thought was well-done but needed perhaps more room to breathe; but Leopardstar has absolutely no relationship with cats like Stonefur or Mistyfoot, characters that she was reportedly extremely close to. When Stonefur is named deputy, there’s no weight behind it - he and Leopard had absolutely no connection. They barely say three lines to one another that aren’t relating to Clan business. Mistyfoot gets nothing until Leopardstar begs her to be deputy. It’s baffling!!

I also wanted more from Mudfur and Leopardstar’s relationship. He feels like he’s barely there, when he could’ve been a real presence in Leopard’s life, good or bad. I liked the angle of Leopard equating his doubts to her father considering her a failure - but it just doesn’t feel like it works. I thought something big would come from Crookedstar revealing that Mudfur didn’t want Leopard to be picked as deputy but... there’s no change in their relationship, at least not one that the pacing would allow us to see.

Tigerstar and Leopardstar is a contentious relationship to say the least but... I gotta say, I wanted more of it. I think this is the one story where Tiger feels like Tiger - manipulative and evil, but with very little of his moustache-twirling obviousness. It feels like he just disappears from the story entirely after he’s exiled from ThunderClan, only to pop back up again.

It’s probably awful to say, but... I kind of wanted a sour romantic relationship between Leopard and Tiger here. I do not trust the Erins to handle that with any ounce of grace, and I don’t seriously wish it upon the canon at all, but I thought that the possibility could’ve been interesting. The two did genuinely seem to have a connection, and even if they were romantic, I don’t think Leopard would’ve formed TigerClan just because she liked Tigerstar - the book had already established other reasons why she would think TigerClan a good solution.

I trust the Erins with relationships like I trust my dog with chocolate: I just don’t :P

--

I think that’s all my grievances so far. Kudos to anyone who read all this! I honestly feels like I’ve more negatives than positives to say about these books lately... Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy them; but the writing quality has become exhaustingly inconsistent.

I really wish they would slow down book production and give these stories more thought - the readers deserve it, as do the authors themselves.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Sister Complex

Bakugou x Step Sister!Reader

Warnings: s m u t, dubcon, pseudo-incest(they’re not biologically related because I’m a coward), uhhh tickling?

A/N: It’s been a minute since I’ve written something spicy for Baku-bb. Idk why it’s a hard for me to do this for one of my favorite characters lolol. I had to make things a little fucky because I’m me, but I have no shame. At least it’s not another yandere piece?? Here’s some nasty trash. the spicy bits are short, but they’re there, and uhhh everyone is 18+, obviously.

Bakugou would have had an easy morning—He’d woken up early and had been able to rest his eyes and daydream for a bit—stretch out, relax, take it easy. He could’ve fallen back asleep and dreamt for maybe forty minutes more, too. It would’ve been nice, if it hadn’t been for those damn kneecaps digging into his hips. 

“Katsukiii!” You crooned, poking at his sides through his bed’s comforters. Bakugou felt you ease your weight farther up his abdomen. At most, it was bothersome, but nothing compared the heat burning off of his cheeks that was trapped in with him under the covers. He was suffocating, not only from needing to gulp some of the cool, morning air, but your breasts that were undeniably pressed up against his chest were far too much for him to handle. Soft and squishy. He had half a mind to grab a hold of them, to teach you a lesson about respecting the let your big brother sleep in rule, just to see you make the fucking adorable embarrassed face you made whenever he teased you. He could have. It wasn’t like you were strong enough to fight him off of you. However, when you started sharing the bed, unaware of how your pelvis was grinding against his pulsing morning-wood, he decided to let you go at it for as long as he could take it. 

“Katsuki, please wake up,” you whined again, pulling against the sheets Bakugou had a vice grip on. “I’m booored.” 

You gave him a little jump and Bakugou couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to slip inside of you. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t the one prancing around the house in those tight shorts that hugged that pert little ass for yours so perfectly. Hell, you were probably wearing them right now and all he’d have to do is slip them to the side…

Bakugou groaned at the thought, blowing his sleeping facade. “Why don’t you go on a jog? You’re heavy.” 

You let out an incredulous gasp, stealing the pillow out from under Bakugou’s head. “That’s so rude!!” You slammed your weapon down, once against his chest, and again onto his head. “You’re such an asshole!” 

Bakugou grabbed your wrist. 

“My darling little sister,” he growled out sarcastically, tightening his hold when he saw your eyes narrow. You hated being called little sister on the account that you were only a tiny bit younger and not biologically related to him. That hardly mattered; he’d call you just about anything to be able to see you blush like that. “Get the hell out of my room or you’re gonna regret this.” 

“Let go!” You tried yanking weakly out of Bakugou’s hold, but his grip was too sturdy, and it only led to him pulling you closer to him so your head was leveled with his. “Stop.” 

“You gonna beat it or what?” 

You huffed, the sweet scent of your freshly brushed teeth filling Bakugou’s head. He wanted to taste you.

“No,” you said, pouting. “You’re going to sleep the whole day away. Mom and dad are gone and I was gonna make breakfast for you and me.” 

“I can eat when I’m ready.” 

“Aw, come onnn. Don’t be like that!” Still locked in his hold, you pushed your breasts against him. With that low-cut shirt you were wearing, Bakugou saw your perfect tits push up against his chest, plush and round, beautifully formed, and practically begging to be groped. He hoped you didn’t do that to any other man; nobody would have the same restraint he’d managed to retain. 

Or so he thought. But then you had to make a face. You had to make that adorable fucking face and then you had to whisper so sickenly sweet, albeit teasingly, “oniii-san,” on top of that. 

Bakugou sneered. This was the last straw. 

In one swift movement, Bakugou had you flipped over and pinned against the bed. He took you in—your curvy body flushed and helpless underneath him and on his bed drove him mad. Your shirt was hiked up just enough from his to see your belly button, your bare thighs on either side of his knees. You weren’t wearing a bra, so Bakugou could see your hard nipples poking through the thin material of your tee. You might’ve been a brat, but you were the cutest fucking brat he’d ever seen. 

“I warned you to leave, but you didn’t listen,” Bakugou’s husky morning voice brought goosebumps to your arms. Good. “So now you’re gonna have to suffer the consequences.” 

Before you could object, Bakugou’s hands flew to your ribcage and he began tickling you. You screamed and squirmed and tried to kick your legs out, but Bakugou kept you at bay by sitting back on your legs. Soon your squeals became wails… or maybe—maybe moans… and Bakugou ached for you. 

“Okay!!!” You cried, your chest jetting in and out rapidly. “Stop! Please, please, ahhhhah, I can’t take it anymore!!!!” 

Bakugou grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them to the bed above your head. You panted underneath him, your hair a mess. You had to know how you appeared to him with your eyes lidded like they were, your lips parted so subtly, so invitingly, all just for him. 

“Had enough?” Bakugou croaked, his restraint crumbling. You pouted your beautiful lips and nodded once. He scoffed. He wasn’t done. “I don’t think you have…” 

Bakugou leaned down so his lips were a hair away from your ear. He could smell your hair; the aromatic, buttery fragrant seemed to make you even more of the treat he longed to taste. He whispered, gruffly, “call me oni-san again.” 

“Um, Katsuki-“ you started and stopped, your breath wavering. Your voice made him pulsate against your thigh. After a moment, he realized you were craning your neck, trying to look down. Bakugou’s words caught in his throat. 

You laughed. “Wow, oni-san, I didn’t realize how much of a pervert you were!” 

“Shut up,” he hissed, not daring to move away—not when he was so close to you.

“My mom’s gonna love this. She might even leave your dad after I tell her that you have some sort of sick sister complex.” 

“You were the one moaning,” Bakugou rasped. “‘m sure she’ll love hearing how much her perfect princess loves having her big brother’s hands all over her.”

“I was not-!”

“No?” Bakugou prompted with a smirk against your neck. Then he took the initiative. He dragged his tongue across your soft, shuddering flesh, trailing a line up to your ear. 

“H-hey,” you whimpered, bringing your hands to his arms right below his shoulders. You pushed, but not enough to tell Bakugou that you really wanted him to let off. At this, he decided to bring his hand to your soft tummy and push it up and under your shirt so he could palm your breast, twisting your nipples harshly between his fingers. They were incredible—you felt incredible, and Bakugou hungered for more. 

“Kat-“ you breathed, your hips bucking up and against him. Bakugou grinded against you, the friction between his light pajama pants and your center setting his nerve endings aflame. “Ahhh, Katsuki…”

Bakugou’s body went hot at hearing his name fall from your lips in such a sensuous way. He snickered and growled, “now, who’s the pervert?” before biting down on the softest part of your neck. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you moaned, your voice cracking. You sunk your fingers into the back of Bakugou’s head and, for a moment, he thought you were going to try to pull him away from you. Instead, your nails tightened and untightened, giving him a nice little head massage. If anything you were pulling him further into you. You were enjoying this. 

A groan from Bakugou while he sucked harshly at your neck had your body shaking for him. You mewled while Bakugou’s hand traveled from your tummy down to your panties. The pads of his fingers rubbed around the damp mess at your core. You were already so wet for him. He could laugh. You weren’t the perfect little princess you pretended to be. 

Bakugou pulled away to admire the dark galaxy spot at the side of your neck he’d left. He wiped at his wet mouth and watched your brows knit together lightly, your cheeks dark with bewilderment. Seeing you torn apart like this was pure gold, which made him want to see just how far he could take this. 

“What a foul mouth you’ve got there, little sister.” Bakugou’s arm snaked around your waist, the fingers in your panties still toying with your pussy. “It’s only a good big brother’s job to clean it out for ya.” 

Forceful lips crushed against yours. You only resisted a little before Bakugou had your mouth parting for him. His tongue melted into yours and goddamn were you so sweet… hot... good—perfectly made for him to taste… to take. 

Bakugou kissed you. He touched you. He felt your heart pound against his chest while the two of you clambered to see who could kiss the other harder, and for a moment, he let himself forget that this was wrong—that this could get the both of you in deep trouble. And when he realized that, he didn’t give a shit. 

When Bakugou pulled away and both of his hands went to the waistband of your briefs, he looked you in the eyes and said, “you’re not gonna say a word.”

“Ngh-“

“-Cuz if you do, then everyone’s gonna know that you like to come into my room with nothin’ but a shirt and your panties. I’ll tell everyone that you like to moan when your oni-san marks your pretty little neck.” 

“You’re not serious!” You barked. Still you weren’t making any move to swat Bakugou’s hands away. 

“No?” Bakugou peeled your panties away. Your cunt blushed under his fierce, hungry gaze—he would’ve teased you for it, but at the moment, he couldn’t think about anything but fucking you.

Bakugou pulled his greedy cock out and gave you a fiery grin. Were you really not gonna stop him? You weren’t gonna offer him a peep of protest? He lined himself up with you, the reddened tip of his cock leaking pre-cum against your slicked up slit. 

“Katsuki, wait-!” 

Bakugou glared, daring you to say another word. He could already feel you palpitating against him. You wanted this, and he could tell; you just didn’t know how to say it. 

“Don’t act like you don’t wanna,” he said, “you’re sopping wet. It’d be a fucking crime not to take care of you myself. You’d be beggin’ to have me if the circumstances were any different anyways.”

“You’re such an arrogant little-!” 

Bakugou sunk into you before you could finish that sentence. Instead, your words were lost to a long, drawn-out moan; one that you probably tried to keep to yourself since he started touching you. 

He eased in and out of you, slowly memorizing all the soft ridges of your creamy pussy. Bakugou didn’t know when the next time he’d be able to claim such an excellent opportunity, so he had to savor you. You sighed for him and he wished that he had some sort of recorder so he could memorize those, too. He’d originally thought that your angelic facade was annoying, but with the way you looked right now—the way you sounded even, he couldn’t help but think about how perfect his little sister was. It pissed him off. 

“Do you know how nasty you are for letting me do this?” Bakugou huffed, his fingers digging into either side of your waist. “Not only are you a pervert, but you’re a fucking slut, too. Is that right?” 

You swallowed a moan and wrapped your arms around Bakugou’s neck as he dipped himself deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot. “Tssss-” you tried sounding passive, but even your scoff was uneasy. Hot. “No…”

“Huh?” Bakugou cracked a grin. “So you’re saying you’re only like this with me then. That’s good at least.” 

Bakugou kissed you, tasting your unspoken desire. He rolled his tongue around yours and you mewled into his mouth, humming as Bakugou brushed his long fingers through your hair. You gasped when he made a fist; the sudden noise made him snap his hips against you. He watched your face contort into the cutest, lustful expression, and Bakugou completely lost it.

Each thrust was assertive—an undeniable display of his dominance. Bakugou’s throbbing cock grooving against your plushy walls was more or less his way of following through with his promise that you were going to pay for bothering him this morning. By the look of your face falling apart before his eyes, that glistening sparkle of a renegade tear on your cheek, the beautiful wobble of your lips, you were sure to know not to test him again unless you wanted to suffer these same consequences. 

“Hah~ god…” You clenched around him after a particularly rough thrust, your face pulling into a cute scowl. 

“Whatsamatter, princess?” Bakugou’s index finger ran down your cheek to your chin. He centered your gaze directly on him. “Your big brother too much for you to handle?” 

“I just think it’s funny— ahhh~!” You bristled when Bakugou began dropping his hips to put a better hit on you. You grasped at the sheets and bit your lips, looking like you had to concentrate to continue what you were saying. “You’re—hhhah~ always muttering my name at night—looks like I know—ah-ah-hah, why~!” 

Bakugou didn’t miss a beat. Instead, his hand wrapped around your neck and he picked up the face, drilling you so intensely that your mouth lulled open to allow pretty, pathetic squeaks to tear out of your throat. 

“It’s good to know you like to listen,” he asserted in a strained voice. You were too cute with your face flushed like it was and fucking hell did you feel good squeezing around his cock. Bakugou knew he wasn't gonna last much longer, but by the way you kept fluttering around him, he knew you were teetering on the edge of release, too. “Next time you should try knockin’ on my door. You know you’d like to see what would happen.”

“Oh, please,” you countered, but it was too late for you. Your mouth fell open as Bakugou began hammering into you, hitting you hard and well enough to have you yipping like a little bitch for him. He’d always wished for this—for you, his little sister, maybe not by blood, but by bond, dirtied up in his sheets. He thought he could never have you, and yet, here you were, taking him beautifully. It was better than he’d imagined all those countless times he’d peeped at you changing in your room or stepping out of the bath. He’d thought that you’d mock him if you ever found out, but no; you were just as fucked up as he was. 

Bakugou reached down and ran circles around your saturated nub, enjoying the sight of your body shivering underneath him. You mewled and moaned for him, squeezing your eyes shut murmuring his name. It was both everything and not enough. 

“Oh, what, princess?” 

“Oh, please, oh please, please, god, oh my god, oni-san.” Your body started convulsing wildly. Bakugou had to grab a hold of your hips to keep his pace steady as he finished his last bout. Your nails clutched and dug into his arms as he felt his rouged relief build up and jet out, hot and heavy into your quaking cunt. 

Bakugou grunted when he pulled out, still pulsing from what you’d done to him. He watched you spill out white, hot seed onto the mattress before he fell on top of you, his forehead pressed to yours. He kissed your sweaty hairline, down the bridge of your nose, and landed on your lips. You kissed him back, albeit languidly, tuckered out from the good fucking your big brother gave you. 

Bakugou chuckled and rolled back into his bed, pulling your body so you were snug up against his bare, sweaty body. The two of you drifted off into a contented sleep. He was grateful that he got his extra forty minutes of rest, but when he woke up his stomach growled. 

“Shit.” Bakugou slithered around your sleeping body, trying harder than he usually would have not to wake you, only to have you grab his hand when he got out of bed. Such a fucking cutie. “Whaddya want?” 

“I… was going to make us breakfast,” you said bashfully, probably mulling over what the two of you had just done. 

“Nah, stay in bed. I’ll whip somethin’ up.” Bakugou brought your hand to his lips and gave it a light kiss. “You’re shit at cooking anyways. Just let your oni-san take care of everything.” 

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[juniorgman187]

The Bones (Reid Series) Part 1

Summary: Almost a year after Maeve’s death, Spencer reaches out to the recipients of Maeve’s donated organs to reconnect with his lost love. However, when the receiver of her heart, Reader, doesn’t write back, Spencer goes on a poorly-motivated mission to find her. 

Playlist: “The Bones” by Maren Morris & Hozier   (BONUS: song includes major foreshadowing)

A/N: There is an OC in this story because to me, writing “(y/n)” over and over again cheapens the story and doesn’t flow well. It was a personal decision, and to anyone it sincerely bothers, I’m sure there’s a way you can insert your own name instead. This fic is also inspired by “Things We Know By Heart” by Jessi Kirby. Category: Series, Soft Angst, Eventual Smut + NSFW content* Pairing: Spencer Reid POV x Fem!OC Content Warning: allusions to death, mourning, loss, recovery, arrhythmia (this is an intro chapter, so it’ll get more interesting from here I promise) Word Count: 2.2k

This will be a multi-part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

It all started that first autumn after Maeve’s death - just five weeks past a year since I parted with her. I was absentmindedly reading when, rather out of the blue, Mary Donovan called to inform me about a Mrs. Rachel Larsen. 

Although we didn’t learn her actual name until later, she was first known to us as the recipient of Maeve’s liver. Not a single one of the three of us - Maeve’s parents and me - had expected a recipient to be in contact with us. That inability to predict such an event was caused by my neglect to remember Maeve was an organ donor. It wasn’t particularly relevant in the grand scheme of things, and for that forgetfulness, I was truly ashamed, but after reading Rachel Larsen’s letter together with the Donovans, it all came back to me. 

Every single thing. 

You see, despite the anonymity of the person writing to us, it was as if I could actually feel Maeve’s soul coming alive again, as strange as that sounds. 

She was still here with me ... in some form. 

Later that night, when I would return to an empty apartment, I would wonder why I hadn’t thought of reaching out to the recipients before. Even though I’d already started writing a thank you letter back to Rachel, the thirst for more of Maeve became increasingly insatiable. 

While I did have fond memories of her to live by, I couldn’t thrive off of them in the way that I did with that letter. Our only moments together worth reliving were those spent over the phone, a time when I didn’t even know what she looked like. But that letter from Rachel Larsen ... it was somehow more wholesome and pure than any memory of the living Maeve that I could cultivate.

You could say I was doing this to ease my mourning, meaning it should’ve made me feel better, but that didn’t stop the guilt from eating away at me piece by piece as I wrote letters to the rest of the recipients. 

The Donovans had no idea I was doing this, but I reasoned to myself that they would appreciate the surprise. Though they were still undeniably riddled with grief, smiles embellished their sullen faces when they read about Rachel’s quality of life now with a new liver. So maybe, just maybe, hearing from the rest of the receivers would be good for us all. At least, that’s what I told myself.

In one of those rare moments when inspiration strikes and it courses through your veins at the speed of lightning, I found myself being more productive than I had been in nearly a year. By midnight, I’d successfully composed five letters, each dedicated to the receiver of one of Maeve’s major organs - none of which, though, included my identity.

Given the fragile process of contacting the transplant coordinators, getting consent forms, and premeeting counseling, it would be months, if not years, before I would be able to really speak with these faceless people. Nothing against Donor Family Services - I’m sure they do the best they can - but for me, their best wasn’t good enough. So instead, I enlisted the help of someone I knew could never let me down. 

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Penelope peered up at me from her seat, her pinky finger hesitantly hovering over the ‘enter’ button. 

“Yes.” 

With just one click, she discovered the addresses of each one of those faceless people. This singular operation, albeit somewhat unethical, was the final piece to my puzzle. All there was left to do now was send the letters to them, with the tenuous hope they might send one back. 

Luckily for me, not a single recipient questioned how I managed to find them or why this process wasn’t being handled by Donor Family Services, but I suppose if they did wonder those things, they didn’t feel comfortable asking me. Especially not after they learned who I was in relation to their donor. I didn’t intend to guilt-trip anyone with what I wrote in my letters nor did I want to take advantage of anyone’s empathy, but how could you possibly make a foe out of your organ donor’s grieving boyfriend? Exactly - you can’t. So you don’t. Instead, you send an inviting letter back, telling me you’d love to meet. Which is what four of them did.

Only one person didn’t reply, and while an 80% success rate was great, I simply couldn’t let this one go. Trust me, I would have ... had it been any other organ. 

For quite some time, I was the one with Maeve’s heart. 

I just needed to see where it was now.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The heart has several definitions and corresponding connotations. 

Scientifically speaking, the heart is a hollow muscular organ that pumps the blood through the circulatory system by rhythmic contraction and dilation. However, figuratively, the heart can be seen as the central or innermost part of something. The heart of a city, for example. But in literature, the heart is symbolic of love. It is often regarded as the source of all knowledge, which is where the comparison between the head and the heart comes from. The head operates logically, whereas the heart functions emotionally, but despite the rationality the head holds, the heart is what people advise you to listen to because it holds the ultimate truth. 

The heart, because it is equipped with your truest feelings, supersedes any logic and reason the head might hold. 

But you see, I only ever knew Maeve’s mind. I could understand the inner workings of it - I’d probably be able to navigate through her consciousness if I entered it given the fact that our intellect matched one another’s - and I shared nearly identical thought processes with her, but that was all that I ever knew. 

And if that was how much knowledge she held in her head alone, then, undoubtedly, her heart held so much more.

Science defines the heart as an organ. Figurative language uses the heart to establish a focal point. Literature likens the heart to love. But I compare her heart to the ocean. Like the sea, Maeve’s heart was 80% undiscovered, and exploration was simply calling my name. 

For that reason, and that reason alone, I couldn’t abandon my pursuit of it. 

That’s not to say I wasn’t ashamed of this mission, though. If anything, shame for the man I had become in the face of Maeve’s death was the only feeling I was truly capable of anymore. Any other emotions were fleeting or insincere. 

Unfortunately, that slimy, disgusting feeling was only amplified times ten when I found myself driving two hours and forty-five minutes to get to Virginia Beach. 

No sane man would drive this far on a weekday for even their most prized possession, and yet here I was, exactly 180 miles away from home, seeking out someone who hadn’t had the courtesy to even write me back, let alone agree to meet with me. Who knows if she’d even give me the time of day. 

She being Valerie. 

“Valerie Elise Bishop was born on August 5th, 1988 in Henderson, Nevada, to parents Andrew and Sara, but when Valerie turned seventeen, she was diagnosed with arrhythmia,” Garcia explained to me over the phone on the car ride here. “It’s when-”

“When the electrical impulses that coordinate your heartbeats don't work properly, causing your heart to beat too fast, too slow or irregularly,” I accidentally cut in. Realizing I interrupted Garcia, I brought her back into the conversation by asking, “I know there are more than 3 million cases per year in the U.S, but isn’t it usually common for ages 60 or older?” 

“You are most certainly correct, Boy Wonder. It is more common in ages 60 and older, however, her maternal grandmother passed away from arrhythmia, so the family history increased the likelihood.” 

At the sound of this news, I had to pull the car over and physically stop just so I could grasp the weight of what I was really doing. 

“In Henderson, Nevada ... maternal grandmother passed away ... family history increased the likelihood …” Garcia’s voice rang in my head. 

It was then that I came face to face with the gravity of reality. 

Valerie wasn’t just a faceless name or a recipient of Maeve’s heart, she was a person. And her humanity only became more apparent to me the more Penelope spoke. 

For god’s sake, she and I grew up in the same state. She and I saw the same sunsets from the same little corner of the earth. She drove down the same highways and byways - we might’ve even crossed paths at one point or another! Not to mention that she lost her grandmother to the same disease that she was suffering from, and if there was one thing consistent about arrhythmia, it was very likely she’d been living with it for decades, if not her entire lifetime. It’s a long term disease that takes years to improve but only seconds to kill. All it would take is just one irregular beat, and she’d be dead. How can you possibly live with that constant fear looming over your head? 

She is a person. I had to remind myself. Not just a means to explore more of Maeve. 

“Hey, Garcia,” I turned the car back on. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” I could just feel panic begin to rise in Garcia. 

“No, I’m not talking about life, I’m talking about this.” Though she couldn’t see, I grandly gestured to the location, the car, and the passenger seat that was cluttered with files on Valerie. “I don’t feel right invading her privacy like this. It’s just selfish.” 

I wasn’t the only one mourning something here. 

“Are you sure?” Penelope clarified. Which was ironic considering she was the one who was unsure of doing any of this, to begin with. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have dragged Garcia into this. Something as immoral as this was totally against her character, but she did it anyway because her loyalty to her friends conquers all. 

Like I said, my shame multiplied times ten. If not for Valerie, then certainly for Penelope. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m heading home.” 

“Okay,” She softly returned. “Be safe.” 

“Oh, and Garcia?” I asked before ending the call. “Thanks.” 

“Of course. Anything for you, Dr. Reid.” 

By the time I ended the call, the sun was already setting - that’s how long I’d been on the road for. The nearly-three-hour drive I would have to make for the second time today meant I wouldn’t be home in time to beat the pitch-black sky, so considering I was already in for a long night, I made a little detour for the one thing I couldn’t go home without.

A piping hot cup of coffee. 

I felt something as rewarding as caffeine was well deserved for the self-restraint I demonstrated minutes ago. And maybe it was my exhaustion, both mental and physical, that brought me to the near conclusion that I would truly let this go, but I was honestly feeling like I could accept this. An 80% acceptance rate. Not bad, right? 

Though I was basically half-asleep while waiting for my coffee, I could not miss the barista when she said, “Valerie! Your order’s ready!”

What are the chances?

A jolt of energy surged through my body and brought me back to life, causing me to whip my head around at the slightest semblance of movement. On instinct, my gaze gravitated to the woman walking towards the front counter. My pull to her was so strong that even if I hadn’t studied file upon file on her that included pictures of what she looked like, I still would’ve recognized her in a heartbeat.

I just knew. That’s her. 

I had no plan whatsoever for how I should approach this, and yet I still rose from my seat, motivated by nothing more than the single belief that I needed to.

Was this the universe telling me that I was meant to run into her after all? That I needed to meet the woman with an oceanic heart?

But when I finally got to where she was, she glided effortlessly past me, not paying any mind to my presence. Why would she though? To her, I was no one. To her, I was the faceless person. 

“Excuse me!” I bolted to the front counter after realizing I might’ve just missed my opportunity. The barista, stunned and concerned, furrowed her brows while she waited for my question. “Is that girl a regular here?”

“Valerie?” She pointed in her direction, to which I nodded rapidly. “Oh, yeah. She comes in here all the time. She works just across the street.” 

When I came to this coffee shop, it was simply by chance. It wasn’t even the closest cafe, but it was the one I chose to go to for some inexplicable reason. 

I’d like to think it was fate. I was meant to be here after all. Because right behind me stood the storefront of a building I had only briefly read about in Valerie’s file.

The Bones,  Art Gallery & Studio

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

PART 2 HERE!

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[peralta-guaranteed]

Ao3 prompt by strwbrystars : my first is to do another chapter focusing on jake protecting amy in a similar situation as the closet one in this chapter pre-relationship or established.

This turned surprisingly long...

(thanks to @dolston17​ for the mafioso names :D)

They’ve made all the wrong decisions right from the start, Amy thinks later, as she’s trying not to hyperventilate, with Jake’s breathing next to her not much slower than her own. 

Well, maybe not the very first decision. When the radio crackled on in Jake’s car, asking for an EMT and back up for two beat cops a block down from them, there really was no other option but to turn and drive down to join them. But once they did find them, every decision made after that came straight from the ‘What Not To Do’ part of her training manuals.

_+_

Officer Rogers was sitting on the ground with his back to a wall, his partner Carols squatting in front of him, and he was obviously injured. Amy noticed the trail of blood leading back into the building behind them as they ran up towards the beat cops.

“Two guys. Possibly gang-related. They were fighting over a drug delivery or sale, we’re not sure, and we tried to separate them and question them when the taller guy pulled out a knife and went for Rogers.” Carols informs them straight away while putting pressure on the large wound in his partner’s thigh. “In the fight the other one, probably Italian background, short and stout, managed to unclip my gun - he must’ve known how to work a holster - god, this so - unprofessional, I’m sorry -”

“S’all good.” Jake interrupts him, and Amy wants to interject that no, it’s obviously not good if a criminal manages to take a gun away from a uniformed officer, but the short relief washing over the young, newly instated beat cop at hearing a detective calm him stops her. “Any more info?”

“They ran deeper into this building. We’ve patrolled it before - this is the only exit, so they must still be holeing up inside. They probably thought I was going to follow them, but I carried Rogers out instead so we could radio-”

“Yes, that was absolutely the right decision.” Amy joins in to support him, and it works maybe half as good as Jake’s casual reaction had before. She squats down too, to inspect the wound that Carols is pressing his jacket onto. “The EMTs are on their way, and this doesn’t look like too deep a cut for any lasting damage, even if it hurts like hell, I’d guess. Good, quick reactions, from both of you.”

“Thank you, detective.” is the first thing Rogers says, but Amy barely hears him when she looks up at Jake. He’s staring straight into the building doors, and she definitely, absolutely doesn’t like the look on his face.

“Jake-” She says with both a questioning and warning tone to her voice.

“This is Mancini territory.” He says out of the blue, and she can see his deducting brain working. “If it’s drug-related, and the other guy looked Italian, must be… Chiellini.”

“Chiellini, like Mafia boss Chiellini?!” Carols asks with shock in his voice, and Rogers hisses as he lets the pressure on his wound go for a second. Amy can’t fault him for that moment of surprise.

Roberto Chiellini, one of the two guys Jake’s undercover sting with the Ianuccis hadn’t been able to pin to any crimes, had quickly worked to establish himself as the new family leader of some Brooklyn areas, focussing on heavy drug trafficking for easy profits. They’d had more and more cases and minor arrests coming across their desks lately that mentioned his name in hushed tones, but had still been unable to actually go after him for any of it. Amy knows it’s been costing Jake sleep, but she still hates to see the conclusion he seems to be coming to right now.

“Jake, even if it is, that goon is way to low-level to have any useful info-”

“Stealing a government-issued gun, and assaulting a police officer? We’d have some leverage-”

“We’ll have absolutely nothing if he decides to use that gun-”

Right at that moment, the sound of a gunshot rips through the air, as if she’d predicted it, and silence falls around them for barely a second before Jake unholsters his own gun and starts moving.

“I’m going in there.”

“Jake you are not- Jake- JAKE!”

_+_

She ran after him, of course. He was her partner - she had to be his backup. Backup that could hopefully talk him out of this entirely once she caught up, but still backup. Most of all, though, he was her partner - running gun-first into what was clearly unnecessary danger. She’d be an absolute fool not to go after him.

Even if it did go against the manual.

(She realised a lot of things she was willing to do for Jake went against any manual she’d ever read, but maybe it was too early in their relationship to admit that, even to herself.)

But she has no time to talk some sense into him, or scold him, or really say anything when she rounds the corner of the hallway he’d stopped behind with his gun up, freezing in point for the scenery before her - the ‘tall man’ Carols had described splayed on the floor, with about 70% of his brain blown all over the concrete behind him, the ‘stout Italian’ standing over him with Carol’s gun still smoking from the shot.

Jake’s hands in her periphery, holding his own gun straight up at him. Jake’s hands, shaking.

“Drop the gun, Riva.” 

Gianluigi Riva, Amy’s brain supplies even in her frozen state. The other one of the two men that walked free after the Ianucci wedding. The one that very definitely could’ve been arrested for various things after, if he hadn’t been so perfectly elusive.

The one Jake had a picture of stuck to his computer screen at work ever since he came back from that undercover mission.

“Jakey the Jew.” she hears through her freeze in the most hateful, spite-dripping voice she’s ever heard. “Or should that be Detective Peralta, I guess?”

“Drop. The gun. Riva.” Jake repeats through gritted teeth.

“Wouldn’t you love that.”

She thinks she sees Jake’s finger actually move for the trigger, but that is before Riva’s attention turns towards her , and suddenly all bets are off. And Riva’s gun is on her.

“That your little bitch, Jakey? The one you whined about?”

“I’m not playing this game. Drop your gun.”

“What a shame if she got caught in the crossfires on your mission, huh?”

“One last warning-”

“Get fucked, pig.”

And then, one strong, big hand against her shoulder, pushing her backwards with force before another gunshot sound.

Another hand, pulling her up, pulling her forward, running, dodging, running, slamming into a wall as they round corners, more gunshots behind them, and shouting, curses, screaming, rage-

They dodge around several more corners as the noises trail further and further behind them, Jake running at a speed she didn’t think he was capable of and pulling her along. There’s a barely visible door she notices before him, and uses her full body weight to drag him towards, opening and slamming it closed behind them so quickly she can only hope that even if Riva had followed them close enough, he didn’t see it.

And then complete silence falls over them in the dark room they find themselves in, safe for their ragged, exhausted breathing. Amy can feel her pulse pumping in her ears, even as Jake nexts to her drops against the wall and slides down, not fully hitting the ground with a  quiet ‘Fuck’.  

“What the hell, Jake?!” Is the first thing she manages to whisper-shout through the heaving, and maybe she should pick her words more carefully right now.

“Riva.”

“Yeah, I know, but-”

“Ianucci’s torture guy.”

And that certainly shuts up whatever angry rant has been bubbling up in Amy’s throat about following procedure and not running in eyes closed, head first like he always does.

She knows barely anything about Jake’s time undercover, safe for the ‘funny’ stories he’s been willing to share at Shaw’s. Even now, as his girlfriend, there seem to be walls around the subject - for obvious reasons, if she thinks about the many little scars and marks on his skin that her fingers keep trailing over. Some that make his breath hitch when she kisses them. Some that he pulls her hands away from almost on instinct.

“Fuck.” She simply echoes him, and he nods before pressing the back of his hand to his lips, trying to keep from being sick - whether from the unbelievable running they’ve just gone through that is still wrecking his body, or from memories that Riva dredged up, she’s not sure.

She turns to inspect the too dark room instead, trying to gather her bearings as best as she can before her brain can switch into panic mode completely. It’s not as small as other places she’s had to hide in, luckily, so her claustrophobia is yet to rear its ugly head, but it’s not exactly spacious either. She can’t make out much that could be of help, a few shelves that have seen better days, an empty barrel or two in the far corner. A lot of darkness. She can’t exactly retrace their steps through the building, but they must have ended up in a half-basement level, the only light coming from a small set of windows a few metres up the wall. 

“Okay.” She manages to level her voice to a normal whisper. “Carols and Rogers must have heard the shots. They definitely called in more back up. All we need to do is stay hidden and wait-”

“They don’t know it’s him. They won’t send much backup.”

“They know two detectives went into a building with an armed criminal and did not come out yet so yes, they will send heavy backup, Jake.”

His voice is still muffled through his hand near his mouth, strained but for something else.

“He was gonna shoot you.”

She doesn’t have much to say to that.

“Because of me.”

She has even less to say to that. Yes, is pretty much all she can think of. Yes, because you ran into a building without backup, without a vest on, without so much as a plan. Yes, because you didn’t think . But given the wavering of his voice, the way he’s still breathing like they’d only just stopped running, the way she could see his hands shake even in the darkness, she’s not going to say any of that, ever. There’s something else on her mind, anyway.

“He recognised me?” She asks as she sinks down to Jake’s level, squat-sitting against the wall. The one you whined about is stuck in her memory, but Jake only shakes his head before dropping it to stare at the ground.

“They- the guys- they kept pushing me to gossip and trash talk about the ‘pigs I left behind’.” He coughs as quietly as he can, and she tenses for a moment trying to listen to any sounds from outside of their room. “I tried with the others but- I just couldn’t say anything bad about you.”

Her hand finds its way into his hair, sweat-sticky on his forehead.

“They picked up on that and kept teasing me about it. Then they started finding hook-ups for me to ‘forget’. I think I got too drunk once and told them to fuck off, or something.”

She scratches over his scalp down to his ear, rubs a soothing circle into his cheek as best as she can.

“I know it was stupid and I put you in danger and we weren’t even- you were with Teddy and I-”

“Hey.” She drops her hand to his upper arm and squeezes for support, wants to say something calming before he spirals, but is met with a quiet hiss and - a wet patch on her hand, the feeling of ripped fabric and skin and blood.

“You were hit?!” She gasps before easing the pressure she was unwittingly putting on his wound.

“Grazed. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, it-it’s-” Her fingers are shaking as she pats around her suit to find something to wrap around his arm to stop the bleeding and comes up empty until she shrugs off her jacket. She won’t ever get the stain out of the light fabric, she thinks for a second as she bandages his arm as best as she can in the dark, but who cares?

Who the fuck cares when he got hit by a bullet that was aimed at her? When he pushed her out of harm's way instead of following protocol and shooting the attacker instead? He could’ve had Riva down and out for the count, he was in perfect position for it, and even gave him ample warning. But he might’ve had her on the ground as well if that’s the option he’d picked.

Something tells her that simply because of that, it was never even an option for him.

Their eyes meet, close enough in the dark to really see each other, and they’re swimming with emotions before Jake’s flinch shut as a distant “Jakeeey~" echoes through the halls they’ve just run through.

“We need to get out of here. We- you don’t know what he’s willing- if he finds us-” Jake is up, all of a sudden, the motion making her sway and almost topple over. He’s scanning the room just like she did earlier when she stands up next to him, and his eyes lock onto the barrels and windows.

“I can give you a leg up high enough to reach the window if we climb that barrel. You’ll fit through it, and get over to Rogers and Carols and see if the backup-”

“And you stay here?” She finally scolds him with a look. “With the man who wants you dead? The one you called ‘torture guy’?”

He’s quiet at that, but she can see on his face that the decision was clearly made in his mind.

“You got any better ideas?”

“Like I said, we wait until backup gets here.”

Almost as if to prove the faults in her argument, another “Jakey boy! Get out here and face me, bitch!” drifts in from outside - closer than it was before, and Jake throws her the most panicked ‘told you’ look she’s ever seen.

“We’re still two against one. He’s emptied half his magazine earlier. If we corner him right, we get the element of surprise in the room as well-” her mind continues to work as her eyes settle on the door- “hug the wall next to the door, and we can disarm him or get him down before he’s even barged in completely.”

Jake seems to want to protest, even as the logical part of his brain is clearly telling him she’s right and that this is the best way to go at it, so he ends up simply nodding before gripping his gun and leaning against the wall next to the door, Amy following him suit on the other side.

They’re staring at each other while the noises outside the room seem to creep ever closer. ‘Come out and plaaay~' almost makes her snort for its ridiculousness if it wasn’t so terrifying, thinking about the things Jake has probably seen this man ‘play’ with. 

She tries to calm her mind by focusing on him, instead. On his face in the hazy dark, the curls on his forehead she managed to jostle free earlier, the tense line of his neck, the glare of her beige suit jacket tied around his arm. The way he looks at her, even amidst the panic, amidst all the fear and worry stuck in the room with them.

He pushed her out of Riva’s aim. He dragged her close to him as he ran. He ignored his own injury, offering to lift her up to an escape he wouldn’t be able to make after her. It’s… it’s a lot. After barely two months of a relationship, it’s a lot to take in.

Except she knows - she knows deep down that he would’ve done all of this three months ago, too. Six months ago. Maybe years ago, even.

“We need to switch.” He whispers suddenly, pulling her out of her deep thoughts, and is already stepping over to her before she can ask. She feels his hand on her shoulder, nudging her back to where he’d been standing, and squeezing three times while doing so.

Sometimes she almost hates that squeeze. She knows what it means now, even though they haven’t said those three little words his squeezes represent yet, but in situations like these - it never forebodes anything good.

And she realises what it really means now, too, as she sees the hinges on the door on her side. The door that opens inwards. The door that will completely hide her behind it once it opens, and leave Jake alone in -

It opens before she can say anything, and then things happen way too quickly - there’s noise and shouting and she thinks she hears Jake’s “Down on the floor!” in between Riva’s angry screams and then there’s another gunshot. A single gunshot, and all she can see is the back of the door in front of her, frozen to the spot, unable to run around it and see if- see who-

“Fuck, Amy. Help me pin this fucker!” She hears the next moment and breathes out in relief. Her feet find themselves again as she runs over to where Jake is kneeling on Riva’s back, struggling to hold him down even with the gunshot wound in his thigh. He’s shouting obscenities, screaming and thrashing around, and Amy is so, so tempted to embed a bullet into his other thigh to get him quiet, but she joins Jake’s knees on his back instead, yanks his arms back in a way Jake couldn’t with his injury, and they click the handcuffs around him together at the very moment a team of heavily suited up officers rounds the corner.

_+_

  He’s sitting on an uncomfortable chair in a brightly lit, wide open room of the hospital, squeezing her hand that is holding onto him while his other arm is propped up on a table and getting stitched up.

The EMTs that were taking care of Rogers checked him, too, but the injury wasn’t bad enough to warrant a ride in their ambulance with him, so Amy took over the keys for his Mustang and drove him after briefing the backup team and handing over a still cussing Riva to be brought into Holding. She put in a whispered request to be the one questioning him - with Rosa as secondary - to Terry, who was part of the backup team, and only gave her a quick look and then a nod after Riva screamed something about how he ‘shoulda offed that snitch when he had a chance’, watching Jake several feet away from them twitch and turn towards the EMT handling his arm.

The young doctor stitching him up seems suitably impressed by both his badge and his injury, remarking something about ‘bravery’ and ‘sacrifice’ he would usually eat up with glee, but all he’s doing is smile at Amy while his fingers intertwine with hers, squeeze only once before his thumb rubs circles across her hand.

They’re left alone soon enough while the doctor gets his painkillers subscription, and Jake takes the chance to lift Amy’s hand up to his lips and kiss it.

“Jake…” she begins when their hands drop again, and she can tell he’s getting ready for a lecture. “You risked too much back there.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone in without backup, and made a lot of wrong decisions, and-”

“No.” She interrupts him, much to his surprise. “I mean, yes, obviously, and I’m glad you see that now, but that’s not what I meant.”

She sighs, deeply, and stares at their still interlocked hands.

“You risked too much for me.”

“Not possible.”

“Jake!” Her eyes dart up again, want to level him with an angry stare, but can’t help but soften when met with the absolute shine in his. “Jake, you got hit because you pushed me, you wanted to bail me out of the room to leave you with even less backup, and then you manoeuvred me into a dead corner to face a Mafioso on your own-”

“Yeah.”

“Why?!”

“Because it would’ve kept you safe.”

“That’s not how police work is supposed to-”

“Am I not supposed to keep my partner safe?”

“Not when it puts you in danger instead!”

“Hm.” He hums and looks at the bandaged up stitches on his arm. “Gotta rework the manual for that, then. Because frankly I don’t give a shit about me when it means helping you.”

“But I do.” She almost whispers, but he still looks back at her immediately, balks at the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I give a shit about you. You think I want to see you shot on the ground? You think I want to run away from a building when I know you’re stuck in there? You think I want to stand behind a door and only hear you get- get-” She bites back a sob and fixes him with a dedicated stare instead, a look on her face that makes his heart clench and dance at the same time. “We’re a team, Jake. In the field and off it. You can’t- you can’t play the hero and leave me behind.”

Her mind jumps back to an empty parking lot, the cold wind rushing over her flushed cheeks as she watches him walk away with his little box of things in his arms, not even waiting for her answer. Maybe not even hoping for one.

He sighs and nods back in the present, squeezes her hand again, twice.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, and she squeezes back once. 

She knows they’ll probably be talking about this again in the future. She knows it’ll come up repeatedly until he learns. But she also knows, with a certainty that should maybe scare her after their short time together, why it’ll happen again in the future - because he’ll still be by her side no matter the situation. Because she’ll still be the one thing on his mind, no matter how panicked he is. Because they’ll go through it all together, as a team. As partners.

And deep down, she knows with an equal certainty that if the roles were reversed - she would probably rework the manual herself in her mind, to keep him safe. Would do anything and everything she could, no matter how many protocols it went against, to help him, save him, protect him, make him feel safe and secure. 

Right now, she’s glad all it takes for that is a little lean into his direction to kiss him before the doctor comes back, and squeeze his hand three times before letting go and holding onto his face instead to deepen the kiss.

[echoisbabe]

I won’t hurt you

This was requested, the request can be found here. This is my first time writing werewolf related things. Basically AU of Hunter being a werewolf. Hope everyone that reads enjoys :) requests are open! Thank you for the request

I also didn’t know what to tag it as because it’s not an x reader. Just Hunter and Omega bonding(?) I also didn’t know how to end it but again hope you all enjoy :)

Hunter looks up at the moon, he’s been fighting the effects of it since they’ve landed. He knows he won’t be able to fight for long. Finding a safe distance away so as to not alert the others. He doesn’t always lose himself to the wolf inside him because he can control it around others when he needs to. However, with the weight of everything that’s happened he can’t keep it in check anymore.

He thinks he’s made it far enough and he drops to his knees. His breath coming out ragged. His body drenched in sweat as he begins to take his armor off. He doesn’t want to break it because getting a replacement would be hard to come by. He’s just in his blacks now. He lets his eyes fall shut as his jaw clenches, he's ready.

Omega had snuck off the ship, she knows something is wrong with Hunter. She felt like maybe he needed someone to talk to and that someone could be her. He’s always there for her, saving her and protecting her. So she needed to do this for him.

She hears a harsh gut wrenching cry break the silence of the night. She freezes in place. What was that? Some monster is out here while Hunter is too! She really has to find him now. She pushes further, more cautious than before. The moon is bright and it lights her way through the thick forest.

She looks left and right. Nothing and she almost pouts. Where is Hunter? He couldn’t have gone too far, right? She wonders if she should climb a tree and maybe she’ll get a better view point. The thought that he’s probably gone back to the ship has crossed her mind but she’s sure she would have ran into him had he gone back.

Hunter digs his nails into the soil, fur replacing where his skin once was. His jaw clenched tightly as he felt his body expanding in the most painful way possible. He hates this part, the transformation. He wishes he could just snap his fingers and it’s over. He swears his jaw is going to snap under the pressure and he lets out another cry of pain as his body explodes in pain.

He’s praying to the maker that this is the last time he goes through this, he’ll find a planet where there is no moon and he’ll settle there. He won’t have to worry about this anymore. He brings his hands up to tear away his blacks as he feels his body growing wider and taller.

Omega spots a figure hunched over just further down the way. She smiles to herself as she begins to climb down, stopping when she hears the cry of the monster again. She has to get to Hunter quickly. She drops to the ground and starts running in the direction she saw the figure.

She hopes Hunter will be happy to see her but then again maybe he’ll be upset because of how late it is. She just wants to show him that she can care for him as well. He doesn’t have to be alone. She loves Hunter as if he were her father. She’s sure that he loves her as if she were his daughter.

Hunter shakes the pain away. It’s finished, he no longer has to suffer. He’ll roam around until morning. He lifts his nose into the air and sniffs. Why can he smell Omega? He looks around and spots her standing just before the tree line. He can hear her heart beating rapidly in her chest and he turns away from her. Shame fills him and he know from the look on her face that he should have told her about this sooner.

Omega's breath is caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight before her. She can’t move despite everything inside her screaming at her to run. To tell the others that a monster has eaten Hunter. She begins to back up slowly, and when the monster turns back to her she lets out a scream.

"Omega" Hunter calls, his voice deeper and rough "Omega, it's me Hunter" He stands on his hind legs as he brings his huge clawed hand to his chest

"No, you're a monster" Omega cries and she catches the hurt that flashes in the eyes of the beast

"I should have told you about this before" He starts taking a small step towards her "but this is who I am"

Hunter watches many emotions flash across her face. She's confused and he really doesn't blame her. He would be too if the roles were reversed. He takes another step towards her and she takes two back. He could almost see the gears turning in her head.

She’s hesitant at first but slowly starts towards him. She finds comfort in his eyes, they remind her of Hunter. She wipes at her face to rid the tears that had fallen. She stops about a foot away and crosses her arms over her chest.

Hunter’s smiles as he reaches forward. Holding his palm facing up so that she can hesitantly put her hand in his. There’s still tears in her eyes and he picks her up into his arms. There’s still a touch of fear in her eyes and he holds her as if she’s a baby. He begins to rock her as he explains why he’s like this. She asks many questions and it’s well into the night before she’s yawning.

“Get some sleep, I’ll carry you back to the ship” Hunter begins to rock her again and he’s glad she understands everything, she’s more comfortable with him too.

"You're warmer than the ship" She whispers as she cuddles closer to his furry chest, his fingers playing curling a couple stands around her finger "Goodnight Hunter, I'm sorry for calling you a monster, you're not a monster at all"

"Goodnight, Omega" He sits back, holding her closer to cover her from the chilly breeze of the night.

[riseofthecommonwoodpile]

I’m listening to the first episode of Maintenance Phase (which is a great podcast btw, I listened to like every other ep first lol) and it’s just making me think about my experience with the first doctor i ever had who didn’t make me feel awful for being fat, so i’m going to vomit that out here to help any skinny people know a little of what it’s like to be fat in the healthcare system. Indulgent personal shit follows:

Every single doctor I’d had as an adult, every single one, would ask what I was doing to lose weight, would point to BMI and obesity charts telling me I was a.) fat and b.) going to die soon because I was so fat. It was something I just had to let happen to get healthcare, and the most frustrating part was that I fucking knew I was fat already. OBVIOUSLY I did. Every person I went on a date with, every coworker who side-eyed my lunch, even people at the supermarket looking like they were about to laugh when I grabbed carrots or broccoli to make myself. Knowing didn’t help. I’d tried constantly for over a decade, and nothing had changed my weight in the way they wanted it to.

So, when I went to find a primary care doc when I moved to Washington, I really assumed the same thing was going to happen. I specifically wore my “lightest” clothing and shoes so they wouldn’t impact my weight too badly, and getting on the scale was legit terrifying, because I didn’t own a scale for the specific reason it felt so bad to see the number come up, and the number ended up being 284, and I almost cried, and I just knew I was about to get yelled at. I’m tense the entire appointment (and my blood pressure reads worryingly high), but she doesn’t say anything about it. We just have a normal first appointment. She says she’s gonna have me get an at-home blood pressure cuff to see if maybe it’s just the office that made me nervous. 

And at the end she asked if I have any questions, and I pretty timidly ask if I should be worried about my weight, if I should be losing weight, and she just said “Nope, all your other vitals are good, we’re gonna get bloodwork done today anyways so we’ll see if there’s any issues there, but everything else looks fine to me.” and i legit started crying, and I told her how I was expecting her to tell me I need to lose 20, 50, 100 pounds, because that’s what other doctors told me, and she just listened and asked me when I was done talking if losing weight was something I wanted to do. I told her yes, and then she asked me a question I hadn’t ever been asked before by a doctor: If we ignore you not being happy with how you look at your weight, and people being rude and shitty to you, is being fat causing you any physical problems?

What a wild question to hear as a fat person! I’d literally never been asked that before. It was just *assumed* it was giving me health problems, and I just assumed that was correct, even though as a 28 year old plenty of patient people had already told me those things aren’t related that directly and concretely, that plenty of fat people are perfectly healthy, and plenty of skinny people are unhealthy. And I took a few seconds to think about it, because I never had before, and I said that my knees hurt sometimes when I bend down, and that I get winded easily. And I said that I know exercise would help those things, but I can’t exercise around other people, I feel too embarrassed, and I’ve never found any at-home stuff that I could keep up with or didn’t make me miserable. 

And she asked what kind of physical stuff I liked as a kid, and I mentioned gymnastics, and she asked if I’d tried yoga, since it has lots of similar stretching, focus on form, things like that, and it would likely help my knees if I started slow at first and worked my way up. and I hadn’t ever tried it, so we decided, together, for me to give it a shot before our follow up appointment to look at my bloodwork. and she emphasized that if I wanted to make it a habit, the most important thing was just to do a little bit each day, even if it’s just 5 minutes. If 30 minutes was too daunting (and let’s be honest, 30 minutes of exercise is daunting even on my days off, let alone after a 9 hour shift on my feet), just do a couple stretches, so that way your body gets used to the idea of doing it. trying to do 30 minutes 5 days a week would just mean i never did it at all.

And after we ended the appointment, suddenly I wasn’t afraid to go to the doctor anymore, imagine that! The next time I went, my blood pressure was perfect because I knew I wasn’t going to be insulted and made to feel awful, I wasn’t waiting to be told the thing I’d been told for years and tried to change, but just kept getting worse at. And, incidentally, I did end up losing weight- I’m at 225ish right now, in just like two years, which I don’t say as a “go me”, because it doesn’t matter, and for plenty of people, lifestyle changes wouldn’t have done that anyways, and there’s fucking nothing wrong with being 284 pounds, but just to point out that the only thing that actually *worked* to accomplish the goal of all the doctors I had before was not caring about that goal. None of their hectoring and shaming did the thing they wanted, and the thing so many people cautioned against- “glorifying obesity”, aka just not making fat people feel like dogshit all the time- was what gave me the mental energy to exercise regularly, to eat better. 

because I wasn’t weighing myself, and I knew at the doctor, no matter what the number was, it would be ok, I felt ok asking questions, bringing up problems I had getting cooking into my schedule, asking for help on health-related things instead of just a number over and over and over again. I was less stressed, I felt better about myself and my body, which also gave me more mental energy to do the things I wanted to be healthier. not skinnier, healthier. It’s almost like...when doctors care more about their patients’ health than their weight, when they don’t make them feel ashamed and awful, the patient will actually go to the fucking doctor. The patient will listen and care more, will ask questions, will bring up when they’re having problems or something seems off with their body. when i moved to Colorado and had my last appointment with that doctor, I cried and told her she was the best doctor I ever had, and I still tear up thinking of how much she changed and improved my life by just being a good fucking doctor who cared about my health.

also usually i read over my longer posts before i post them to make sure grammar and spelling are ok, but this is long so i didn’t do that, so it’s probably fucked. oh well.