#so i had to physically 'squish' the case with one hand and try to put in the screw with the other. i hope nothing got damaged during that

[crowcryptid]

i was today days old when i found out my case has a power led. this whole time the cable has been plugged in backwards, which means the power button works but the led didnt.

[mandarinmoons]

dad!spencer

DAD SPENCER SPENCER AS DAD

yknow that scene where JJ calls Will and Henry over the phone so she can read to Henry? or atleast I think she read to him it was so long ago that I watched 😭 anyway, what about that with Spencer and a toddler Bailey? he’s on a case but he still wants to make sure he’s present for his daughter even if he’s not physically there

<333

Your ears rang as Bailey’s cries echoed through the house. She had been fussy and inconsolable for days and you knew why, her dad was gone.

Spencer flew out to a case all the way in Nebraska leaving you to take care of Bailey all by yourself until he got back. You weren’t cross with him, you knew his schedule was hectic and that he tried his best to be a part of both of your lives.

For Bailey however it was a different story. The second her dad walked out the door she was upset and ran to the door to run after him. The only way she would fall asleep is by draping one of Spencer’s shirts over her, her breathing would calm down and a moment later she would be at ease.

It had been four days since Spencer left and there had only been limited text messages between you two. The case turned out to be more complicated than initially thought and it was taking up more of the team’s time.

You and Bailey were cuddling on the couch watching one of her favorite cartoons. Bailey had a crying fit and after some time she managed to calm down a bit and now here you were, caressing her back as her tear filled eyes were focused on the TV in front of her.

As you felt yourself doze off and your head leaned to the side, your phone rang which caused Bailey to get fuzzy.

“Shh there there,” you sat up and pulled Bailey into your lap as you dug your phone out of your pocket, seeing it was Spencer calling you sighed in relief and immediately put it on speaker.

“Hey Agent Daddy,” hearing your words made Spencer chuckle and Bailey’s eyes went big as she heard the laughter.

“Hey you two, how are my favorite girls doing?”

“We’re doing okay, Bailey misses you a lot.”

“She does?” Bailey immediately made grabby hands at the phone.

“C’mon, say hi to daddy.”

Bailey got the phone in her hands and chanted “daddy, daddy, daddy!” in an excited voice.

“Hi baby, do you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, daddy will be home soon, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Spence, do you think you could sing to her a bit?”

“Yes yes, daddy sing!”

Both you and Spencer laughed as Bailey grew excited over hearing her dad sing to her.

As Spencer sang along to the lullaby he recited to Bailey every night before bed, she nuzzled into your chest as her cheek was squished against you, her eyes fluttering shut as she relaxed.

You pried the phone from her hands gently and took it off from speaker mode, pressed it to your ear and quietly spoke as to not wake up your daughter.

“She’s finally asleep.”

“Has she really not slept these past few days?”

“Well only when she tires herself out from crying.”

Spencer chuckled lightly, “I feel bad now.”

“Hey it’s okay. You’ll be home soon so she’ll feel better in no time.”

“I hope so.”

Silence took over the line for a moment and you could hear Spencer trying to cover up a yawn, he was dead tired but still managed to make time to call you.

“You should go to sleep, I don’t want to keep you up for too long. You still have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah,” Spencer yawned and rubbed his eyes as he looked at the time, 8:47 PM in the evening and yet it felt like it was 1 AM for him.

“Be safe, yeah? Think about how happy Bailey will be once you get home.”

Spencer smiled as he thought about his little girl running into his arms as soon as he walked through the front door.

“Give her a kiss from me please.”

“I will, good night.”

“Good night.”

As the call ended you looked down at Bailey and watched her sleep peacefully in your arms. Her hand was gripping your shirt and you chuckled as you remembered what you wore, the same shirt of Spencer’s that you draped on her as she slept.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai

If you want to be a part of my taglist go here!

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[hargrove-mayfields]

Disabled Billy and Steve Week

Day 7- Invisible Disability Awareness

My prompt: Steve on a low spoons day

-•-•-•-

Steve wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. Literally. He’s face down in his girlfriend's pillows, drooling on her favorite squishmallow.

It isn’t rare for Chrissy to get up in the middle of the night and move to sleeping on an air mattress in the living room. Her condition is more rare than Steve’s, a type of synesthesia that mimics touch. So if Steve had his face squished against a pillow and hair all over his eyes, Chrissy would feel the same sensation.

Sometimes it could get frustrating, especially if she was having a bad sensory day, so it wasn’t surprising or offensive that she would put a little distance between herself and Steve.

The part that makes him admittedly sad is that he’s having a bad day too. He hadn’t just woken up normally, it had been from a tic. It was a subtle one, but his sleep had been light enough that kicking his leg and knocking his blanket off had been enough.

That one annoying twitch of his leg has quickly turned into a full scale tic attack.

“Chrissy- Chrissy- Chrissy-“

That particular name tic was born from a time he’d called for her, and she couldn’t hear him because of her noise canceling headphones. So he’d yelled out a second time and suddenly his brain decided it needed to say her name as many times as possible.

These days it usually only pops up during tic attacks, but that only makes it more frustrating, since he’s probably trying to communicate something he needs when it takes root.

But that isn’t what gets Chrissy to actually come in. It’s probably the loud, somewhat squeaky shout that alerts her that Steve is both awake and probably not doing so well.

She’s there by his side within a few minutes, her hand on his chest and soothing him softly, “Steve, darling, deep breaths.”

His shoulders slam backwards into the mattress before he can answer, another tic cutting him off, because of course it would, “I’m sorry -Chrissy- Chrissy- Chrissy- Today’s not a good day..”

“We can rest, baby. There was nothing important to do today anyways.” Chrissy offers, getting settled back in next to him.

“Fudge!” Steve shouts unexpectedly, his arms flying up like he’s frustrated with something.

Chrissy looks hesitant now, taking that tic as maybe a reflection of how he feels, just in case, “Is that okay with you?”

But Steve assures her, “Sure. Napping sounds- fudge! Fuck! -fun.”

A long, frustrated hum trails off after his words, deepened when his closed hand pounds on his chest exactly three times.

He’s already so over this, “Nevermind.. I can’t sleep like this.”

“We don’t have to. Just get comfy, Stevie. It won’t fix it but, maybe it will help a little.” Chrissy keeps him from giving up.

They ran out of the medicine they could give him when his attacks got too severe, but Steve didn’t like to take it anyways. Not that he enjoys his tics so much, but they’re a part of him, and being without them after almost fourteen years of doing this makes him feel strange.

He bets Chrissy probably feels strange too, with all the physical sensations Steve is having that are undoubtedly mirroring in her body. If it weren’t for the amount of times they’d talked about it and Chrissy said she didn’t mind since it’s not Steve’s fault, he would’ve felt guilty.

Instead he lets her pull the weighted blanket up over him gently, and even hands him his chewy scarf, the red one that’s his instead of the pink one she wears, instead of the blanket when it’s clear he’s about to bite the hell out of it. He would’ve too, because his tics make him bite down on that chewy fabric until his jaw almost hurts.

When it releases, he makes sure to let Chrissy know he appreciates her gentle pampering, “Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Stevie.” Chrissy reminds him lovingly.

This time, not for tic reasons, he blurts out, “I love you.”

It makes his beautiful girlfriend smile, a sight that is instant comfort on its own, “I love you too, honey.”

All this repetition of words triggers some kind of tic response, “Lovey dovey, lovey dovey, all the tiiime.”

For some reason, Steve’s Tourette’s loves music. He isn’t really sure about any of the science behind it, but his mouth is always blurting out random song lyrics, no matter how situationally inappropriate. Like the time he shouted a few lines of Fat Bottomed Girls in a butterfly garden he and Chrissy were visiting.

This time though, a couple of lines of some 1950s love song is just cute enough to get a pass. Chrissy at least thinks so, since she giggles and says, “That’s very sweet.”

When Steve bonks himself on the nose, it’s not quite as nice. It actually really hurts.

Steve seeks comfort for the pain, “Can I cuddle you?”

Chrissy opens her arms up wide to make room for him, “Of course, snuggle bunny! Come here!”

That’s an invitation Steve wastes no time to accept, laying his head on Chrissy's chest and breathing deep to stay relaxed. It works a little, in that her cuddles at least eases the frustration and the exhaustion mixing together in his mind.

Maybe Steve can’t sleep, but he can relax, and this is the peak of his bliss. Just lazing about with his girlfriend Chrissy, a beautiful and positive force in his life he never expected to have when his diagnosis came at fourteen.

It was through his Tourette’s that they became close though, since they’d met in a neurologists office while Chrissy was still seeking a diagnosis. He’d rolled up a waiting room magazine and hit himself in the head with it. She’d been the only one to ask if he was okay instead of trying to hide a laugh like a few others, and the rest was history.

Chrissy always says someone should make a movie about them and their fantasy disabled romance. Steve doesn’t think any actress would be beautiful and charming enough to play her.

The romantic ideal can’t always be their reality though. As Steve learns when he makes a velociraptor-esque screech and his head slams back into the headboard.

Chrissy shifts a pillow there and kisses Steve’s forehead, wordlessly trying to make it better, since it’s clear that banging your skull against hardwood definitely hurts. She winces too, probably feeling the sensation herself. It makes her shake and wiggle her wrists to get the bad feelings out.

He appreciates that a lot. She’s always here for him, even when it’s hard for her, but never makes a big deal out of Steve’s tics in a way that would just make him more upset.

Steve wants to try something to make him feel even better though, using one tried and true trick, “Can we -fuck- no. Can we sing a song?”

For probably the same reason he has so many musical tics, music therapy and singing works really well for Steve. It soothes some part of his brain that is otherwise quite unpredictable. Not that it stops his tics, nothing but medications could, but it does make them a little easier to bear. Hell, maybe it’s just a coping mechanism and it’s got some placebo effect. Whatever the explanation, Steve wants to try it.

Chrissy of course agrees, though she asks first, “What do you wanna sing?”

“Magic.” Steve answers automatically.

He had first heard the song performed by a cheerleading animatronic mouse that looked suspiciously like his girlfriend, and it had rapidly become one of his all time favorites. Olivia Newton-John had held that position since Grease, and any love song of hers, even the ones he learned in an overcrowded, kid-infested pizza restaurant, was going to cement itself in his heart.

Though, and maybe it’s because he’s biased, Steve thinks Chrissy sings it much better than the mousey showbiz mascot.

She’s very gentle about starting, combing her fingers through Steve’s messy sleep hair, and humming a moment before she leads, “Come take my hand,

You should know me,

I've always been in your mind,

You know I will be kind,

I'll be guiding you.”

Steve’s verbal tics are calming down, no more shouts or squeaks interrupting the soft melody, but he does still have the motor ones. At one point, his hands try to go for Chrissy's mouth to stop her from singing, obviously not an intentional action, but one she intercepts softly, taking his hands and holding them loosely despite the way his body twitches and shakes her.

“Building your dream has to start now,

There's no other road to take,

You won't make a mistake,

I'll be guiding you,

You have to believe we are magic,

Nothin' can stand in our way,

You have to believe we are magic,

Don't let your aim ever stray,

And if all your hopes survive,

Destiny will arrive,

I'll bring all your dreams alive,

For you,

I'll bring all your dreams alive,

For you.”

Steve relaxes more and more, closing his eyes and just letting the words and the light harmony of their two voices take the tension out of his body.

“From where I stand, you are home free,

The planets align so rare,

There's promise in the air,

And I'm guiding you,

Through every turn I'll be near you,

I'll come anytime you call,

I'll catch you when you fall,

I'll be guiding you,”

In the midst, where the instrumental would be, Steve’s tics decide to make a couple of beeping sounds. These ones feel like normal tics though. Not the violent, never ending electricity that courses through his veins until it hurts during a tic attack.

“You have to believe we are magic,

Nothin' can stand in our way,

You have to believe we are magic,

Don't let your aim ever stray,

And if all your hopes survive,

Destiny will arrive,

I'll bring all your dreams alive,

For you,

I'll bring all your dreams alive,

For you.”

Chrissy kisses him again as they finish singing their song. Finally, Steve feels at peace.

He also feels exhausted, and with the intensity of his tic attack stamped out, he’s feeling beyond tired. Looking up at his girlfriend, he can tell Chrissy is too after a night of sleeping alone.

“Pretty.” Is the short phrase he mutters to describe their song and the way it connected them.

Chrissy doubles the sentiment, “Mhm! You sounded amazing, lovely!”

Steve cuddles impossible closer to her, which he knows Chrissy likes, because it’s a sensation she feels in her own body, not one through Steve’s or anyone else’s. Plus it works much better at decompression when Steve lays on her than if she was just using the weighted blanket.

He also lets her know, “Feels better.”

“I can tell, honey. Get some sleep now.” Chrissy supports him, rubbing his back soothingly.

It’s not long before Steve is dozing off. Drifting deep into the rest hadn't gotten through his sleep last night. He’s probably drooling on Chrissy, and he’s definitely snoring, but they’re at a place where they can feel comfortable doing those kinds of things in front of each other. It’s a part of him just as much as his tics are, or Chrissy’s autism is part of herself.

Steve didn’t have any spoons to get out of bed this morning, but he didn’t need to. Chrissy would love him any way she had him.

~~~~~

For my final charity, I’m delighted to highlight the Autistic Self Advocacy Network!

“Nothing about us, without us” is their tagline, which represents their ideals that autistic communities should be organized and empowered to speak and advocate for ourselves, rather than legislators doing it for us. This of course means they have members who are autistic themselves.

Their goal of empowerment is achieved through means such as creating education resources, lobbying for policy changes, creating tools for self-advocacy to be possible, and providing leadership training to autistic folks. ASAN currently also is working towards getting funding for community events that would help autistic culture thrive, and conducting research on the best ways to give support. They publish reports and books to make their findings accessible and provide education among our own community as well.

On the ASAN site, there is access to updated information about current social issues that affect our community that can be accessed. You’ll also find a resource library there.

To support this network, there are ways to join the cause, such as volunteering, signing up for a newsletter, contacting a local affiliate group, or donating money.

If any of this information is of interest to you, visit the sit by clicking here.

~~~~~~

Now that that’s over, if you’re still reading this far, I’d like to thank everybody for the success of this event!!

My dear friend @intothedysphoria and I conceived this while we were going through a personal low point, and it means a lot to both of us that so many of you folks would be interested in or works!! And to those who have participated, thank you so so much as well!! We’ve been truly delighted by all the content we’ve gotten, and that warms our hearts. It’s nice to see our community coming together.

Fret not though! We may be nearing the end of this event, but there is an upcoming men’s mental health themed event in November! Additionally, we plan to do this event again next year!

Also, if you want to submit something but are worried because you ran out of time, that’s okay! For two or three days after the event, we’ll be checking the tags still to see if any new content has popped up! This is because we accept late submissions as long as we’re tagged!!

Once again, you guys have made this a dream and I can’t thank y’all enough!

Love from EJ ❤️❤️❤️

[stiricidewrites]

All the Things We’ll Leave Behind: ch 26, pt 6

Previously~

~

“You really don’t think your brother would—” he started to ask. He had known jwy for a long time—not well, but he had seen the boy on occasion be kind to other, if still kind with a scowl. He wasn’t sure if he completely believed the face the younger alpha was putting out to the world thee days was real—that it wasn’t a combination of fear and a desire to impress the older alphas in their social circle and his mother. If it really came down to it, jzxuan wanted to believe that jwy wouldn’t physically hurt anyone, and that even if he probably wouldn’t stand up for a stranger, that he would do everything in his power for his own sister.

His words, however, were cut off by shouting from within the restaurant, a cacophony of voices yelling and growling and jzxuan’s already twitchy instincts immediately began to urge him to go back—to check on lwj—AND to get as far away from the building as possible AND to stay and protect jyl—he was after all still responsible for her safety, and he wasn’t particularly inclined to face the wrath of Madam Yu… or worse, his own mother!

“What—” he began to ask, taking a tentative step towards the restaurant, instincts to protect his friend overriding the other instincts ripping through his body.

This time, his words were cut off by Chong-xiansheng being bodily tossed out of the building. The older man skidded through the dirt and jzxuan blinked at him before turning wide eyes up to see who had thrown him out, his breathing catching at the sight of lwj stepping through the doorway—a very pissed off—not to mention even hotter than usual—lwj.

“You,” the older alpha said darkly, taking slow, menacing steps towards the former-alpha, “will not speak to them that way.” Behind him, virtually all the teens who had been in the restaurant were poking their heads outside to watch the showdown, ones in the back pushing their friends and jumping to try and get a better view.

“Look man,” the older man said, raising his hands in surrender, “I didn’t mean any harm. It was a joke! Jus’a joke!” he laughed, seemingly unconcerned—or perhaps too drunk to care—about the murderous alpha stalking towards him.

“It was an inappropriate joke,” lwj said, sending a shudder down jzxuan’s spine. “It would be inappropriate to anyone, but especially towards teenagers. Do not,” he said sharply, “ever speak to them—or anyone else—like that again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chong-xiansheng said, leaning back on his hands, the rough dirt road likely digging divots into his hands. “I got it. I got it. Can I ge’up and go eat m’crepes now, man?”

lwj practically growled at the man when he began to push himself up, the former-alpha having enough sense to stop moving and wait for the other man’s permission to rise. lwj turned back towards the group of teenagers ogling at him. “Do you want him to leave?”

“Nah,” one of the alpha girls laughed, smiling brightly at lwj, her eyes moving much, MUCH too slowly up his body for jzxuan’s liking—lwj already had too many suitors! He didn’t need more!— "I don’t think he’ll say anything else so inappropriate again… maybe not anything at all! Although, just in case," she added, smiling even wider at him, “perhaps you should give us your phone number? That way, if he’s ever mean to any of us again, we can call you to make him mind his manners?”

jzxuan squeaked when his friend nodded and immediately rattled off his phone number for the group, virtually every one of them whipping out their phones to add his info to their contacts. Beside him, jyl laughed quietly, muttering something about how this wasn’t the first time he had given his number out to a group of strangers after doing something heroic—which, what!?

“My goodness,” a man’s voice called, the group of teens hastily squishing themselves back into the restraunt as the omega owner and an older man jzxuan assumed to be her husband stepped into the space they had just been occupying. Behind them, jwy appeared, squeezing himself around them to scurry over to his sister’s side. “Chong-xiansheng,” the man sighed, although jzxuan swore he saw a bit of amusement in the old man’s eyes, “I did warn you that if you kept mouthing off eventually someone would come along to teach you a lesson. At least this time, the damage isn’t as bad.” The man shook his head, muttering about people who never learned as he nodded at lwj and promptly turned around—to go back to the kitchen, jzxuan assumed, based on the scent of fruit and flour wafting off him.

[cas-coding]

list of my stims and tics to show you you're not alone.

i probably pass for neurotypical in many environments i enter, and i realize the privilege that i have because of this, but that does not mean that i am neurotypical. i have been diagnosed with GAD, depression, OCD, gender dysphoria, ARFID, and am waiting on an autism diagnosis appt later this year.

my point of making this list is to help anyone feel less alone than they might have felt before. even if you can't see me stimming or ticcing, i am, and that means that anyone could be stimming or ticcing along with you and you might not notice. you are not alone.

but here's my current list of stims, tics, and echolalia <3

wiggling my toes, specifically trying to position the seam of my sock into a certain position

kicking my foot. i have a friend who makes fun of me for kicking her all the time, but she knows it's a tic and i can't help it and the teasing is all in good fun

adjusting how i'm sitting. this is a big one if i have a large temperature fluctuation!! (and i'm not talking like oh, i'm uncomfortable with how i'm sitting, i'll adjust type deal. i'm talking every two minutes im like swinging my knee over my shoulder to get a better position)

hitting my hip. this happens a lot when i am stressed, especially if it is due to my own mistake.

shaking out my hand. this is a calming action, typically one i do in loud environments or when i have to eat a food i don't feel comfortable eating. in severe cases, i shake both hands rather violently. (i once shook so hard i had to wear wrist brace for a week)

putting my hand in a fist and nodding it. as a child i was told this was sign language for yes, but i have no idea if that's accurate or not. i've had this stim since i was nine as a nonspeaking way of showing my extreme excitement for something.

twirling my hair, occasionally pulling it. i have curls and so while it looks like i'm just touching up some curls, it typically is a tic that happens when i am very uncomfortable.

scrunching up my face and shaking my head. this can range from looking like a cute anime sneeze to a straight up meltdown. this happens when i am trying to tell someone no and they do not listen to me.

chewing my fingernails and the skin around them. this is by far the worst stress reaction i have, but it's also become a grounding technique. i've done this ever since i was little to stop dissociating as the pain will typically pull me from that headspace.

squishing my stomach. this is associated with eating and feeling unhealthy.

repeating the phrase 'mish mish.' i saw it on a tumblr post about two months ago as a way someone was referring to misha and now i say it as a comfort phrase. if someone could tell me why i latched onto this specifically that would be great.

humming, but not a specific tune. i typically try to find the pitch of whatever is bothering me most (like if there's a tornado test siren) as a way to feel like i control that stimulus.

just making sounds. you all know the sounds i am talking about. thee sounds

but, by far, my biggest and most frequent tic is neck tensing. this one is borderline dangerous. first my neck tenses up and then my head will shake, just a little bit until i either a) manage to stop by some miracle or b) my neck grows so tense i get stuck in a little sideways tilt for about 30 minutes.

other general sensory issues i have:

clothing texture

overlapping noise

watching tv without subtitles. literally cannot do this

the texture of whatever i am standing on (i'm not kidding, i will literally only wear fuzzy socks bc of this)

body temperature

tastes and textures of foods

restraining or constricting physical touch (for example: hand on the shoulder? so chillin. hug? i think the fuck not)

END OF LIST

[memphisfaith]

Chapter 10: Pied Piper

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fantasy Au

Warnings: Racial slurs, discrimination, torcher, death, murder, mentions of enslavement, kidnapping, mentions of suicide, attempted suicide.

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: There have always been tales of creatures in the world, all described in different ways. Some labeled as ruthless, others heroic, or even powerful. The world is filled with magic of all types and monsters of every kind. But there are whispers of family so great they could rival the heavens if tempted. A Legacy grown from love, heartache, and magic.

Through the coming months as the children grew, The Warlock Namjoon visited often. Jungkook and Jimin grew to mumble small words, Jungkook’s first word had been during one of Namjoon’s visits. The wolf child had babbled the word ��joo’ when trying to refer to Namjoon as he walked away to fetch the child his food. When Jimin said his first word it had been a full word, when the small abstract family took time to play in the garden. The Witch had left him alone far too long for his liking despite just handing him off to Taehyung to care for Jungkook when he squealed ‘mama’. The Witch had nearly dropped Jungkook upon hearing the word.

The two boys eventually grew to crawl, then walk...or run in Jungkook’s case. The child started running before walking only stopping when he hit something or when the nearest person scoops him up before that could happen. Jimin had thankfully learned a bit slower, The Witch and her familiar took the time to teach him by holding him up and placing his little feet on theirs. Hoseok had found it amusing to waltz around the room with the small child on his feet, something Jimin had seemed to enjoy as well since his giggles and squeals could be heard all through the house.

As their mental development grew so did their physical features. Jungkook’s brown hair grew darker and he grew a tad bigger in size than Jimin. Jimin’s hair grew out and became fluffy as his small wings only grew a bit bigger, still not ready to grow to maturity. However both children still had their cute puffy cheeks, a feature The Witch hoped they would keep forever. Namjoon wished the same as well, after all he was far too amused with himself when he squished their cheeks together.

Namjoon often visited The Witch and her children, but sometimes The Witch took the children to him. On those occasions Namjoon and The Witch will take the two children to the small beach near the edge of his home and watch the children play in the wet sand. One time in particular when neither were paying too close attention Jungkook had managed to pick up a small crab and was seconds away from putting the creature into his mouth. If it had not been for Taehyung surely Jungkook would have succeeded and ended up with a snipped tongue. Needless to say, Namjoon had been quite unnerved by the possibility that one of his favorite little sea creatures might have become a small snack for the child.

By the time the two boys were six they grew into running around themselves as well as being able to form proper words and vague sentences. They also developed a sense of favoritism, much to The Witch’s dismay. Jungkook is far fonder of Namjoon than The Witch and far fonder of Taehyung rather than Hoseok. One of those was to be expected but the other caused a pinch of jealousy to stir in The Witch, something The Warlock noticed far too easily and took full pleasure in teasing her about it. Jimin however, grew more affections for The Witch and her familiar than The Warlock and Demon. The Witch expected such a thing when it came to Hoseok, he was after all, all too willing to prance around and dance with the child should a time present itself. Oddly enough The Witch didn’t expect the Fae child to grow fond of her, being Titania's blood and all, but a child doesn’t get to choose their kin, she had supposed as the child often clung to the end of her dresses and robes.

Namjoon’s familiar, Yoongi, is often a middle ground between the two for affections. Jungkook and Jimin being completely and utterly captivated by Yoongi Draconic form, despite Jimin’s understandable first hesitation. The Dragon spends a good equal time with both of them as he is Namjoon’s familiar and Jungkook favors Namjoon while Yoongi has certain affection for Hoseok which means he’s bound to spend time with Jimin. The Witch herself often finds herself enjoying the company of The Dragon as well, for he is older than she originally thought and possesses knowledge she enjoys indulging in. Taehyung finds a certain homeyness in The Dragon with his dark form, something Taehyung would rather not admit.

The Witch is thankful that nothing has threatened her children’s safety since Titana’s attempt to quril. That was until a rather unwelcomed character decided to visit the newly rebuilt town near her home. The town that Yoongi had burned down was rebuilt a year and half after its previous burning, this time the villagers didn’t mind magical beings coming in or out or even staying if they didn’t cause problems. There had been times that the new village chief called upon The Witch to remove a problematic being, at the price that she nor her family are to be executed. A price the chief was more than willing to pay. However the chief didn’t have to call upon her as this ‘problematic being’ came to town. 

It had only been a simple summer night when it all started, the children sound asleep in their beds tired from the trip home from Namjoon’s. The Witch herself had been tired and retired to her bed as well, later that night she broke from her sleep being awakened by the soft eerie music of a pan flute. A sound she knew all too well, The Witch flew from her bed and wrapped herself in her robe. She checked the children’s beds only to find them missing, panic sunk in as she knew he must have already had them in his clutches.

She then hurried to wake the sleeping demon and familiar, hastily telling them to summon Namjoon before she ran out her front door and into the dark swamp following the sound of the eerie pan flute. She heard them before she saw them, the sound of children giggling and singing lyricless songs. Only when she met a clearing did she see a fire with twenty or so children dancing around the pit of flames, oddly enough Jimin being the most graceful despite his age and Jungkook being the loudest to sing yet so small compared to the slightly older children.

The Witch tore her gaze from her sons to a boy, no more than sixteen but no less than thirteen, sitting on a stump blowing into a pan flute. The Witch glares at the deceiving looking boy, knowing he is much-much older than his looks. The Witch stood tall and she walked her way over to him, only when she’s right over him does the boy look at her. 

“Pan,” She greets coldly, the devilish boy grins at her. “Witch of The East,” He greets back only his tone much more playful. Pan The Pied Piper, the ancient boy who lures children from their beds at night. He picks certain children, boys specifically, to take back with him to his realm and takes the souls of the rest to feed his almost never dying realm. The Witch only knows this because it was her mentor that made him his very flute.  

“Why is it that you’ve come from your dwelling little witch?” He laughs as he stands from his seat, the boy standing just at The Witch's shoulders. His forest green eyes bore into The Witch, “Could it be…” He mumbles thoughtfully, “That I have lured your child perhaps?” He grins in an evil fashion. Yet The Witch remained stoic only glaring down at The Demon before her, “Oh No…” He chuckles upon realizing what he has truly done. “It seems I have in fact lured your CHILDREN here haven’t I?” He questions with a giggle, yet already knowing the answer. “My,” He sighs blissfully, “I didn’t know you mothered children, what a prize they will be among my lost boys.” Pan smirks. The Witch bit back from snapping at him, afraid she will only confirm that he has indeed lured her children in his trap.

“Who could they be? Hmm?” He questions gazing over his flock of children, and Witch couldn’t help but flick her eyes over to her sons, weary of their safety. Unbeknownst to her Pan had caught her glance and smirked. “Ohh…” He chuckles, “Those two right there, the Fae boy and the half breed.” he points out with an all too gleeful giggle. “Do not call him a half breed!” The Witch snapped hotly, only to rear back in panic upon realizing her mistake. She played right into his hand and he knew it too as The Demonish boy grinned widely. 

“My, My! The Witch of the East had mothered a wolf and Fae child. You sure have been busy since I last saw you!” He laughs, but his look darkens as he quirks his eyebrow and licks his lips. “Although I must say, you have grown into quite the woman since you were a child. That mentor of yours only allowed me a peak as he was offly protective of you.” He mumbles, “I can’t say I blame him, you are indeed something...magnificent.” He continues as his rake over The Witch ever so slowly. 

“Keep your eyes with mine Pan or I shall carve them out.” The Witch sneers to him only to cause the boy to laugh. The Witch watches as The Boy slowly begins to circle her, clearly unafraid of her threat. “Come now Love, you really expect me to behave?” He laughs coming to a stop in front of her. “After all, what's a little fun going to harm?” He shrugs as he reaches to touch her.

“I believe the lady said be respectful, but then again how could a child understand something so mature?” A voice cut in, Both Pan’s and The Witch’s head snap in its direction. Relief floods The Witch as Namjoon stepped out from the darkness of the swamp. “Who are you calling a child, Boy?” Pan sneers, turning his body to face Namjoon. “I have lived more than three times your lifetime. If anyone here is a child, other than the obvious children, it is you.” Pan sneered with a hit of sarcasm. “Say what you like, but in my eyes you're just an eager restless boy who has yet to have himself his first woman.” Namjoon chuckles mockingly.

Pan flares at Namjoon’s insult, The Witch takes Pan’s moment distraction to snatch his pan flute from his hand. Pan’s eyes widen as he whips his body to face her, “You are to leave these children alone Pan. Or by the stars I will burn this flute in front of your very eyes.” The Witch sneers. “You wouldn’t dare…” Pan murmurs darkly, “Oh?” The Witch questions, lifting her eyebrow and holding the flute in front of the open flame that rests in the pit. Pan viably flinches and growls threateningly. “Very well!..Very well.” He panics before his voice fades into mutter as The Witch dangles the flute deeper into the flame. 

The Witch then holds the flute out to him and just as Pan’s hand grazes it she pulls back. “If either of us finds you in our part of the world we won’t hesitate to end this far overdue lifetime of yours Pan.” The Witch whispers lowly before finally handing it over to him. Pan simply glares as he takes back his flute, with a wave of his hand the children are broken from their hazes. Pan shot The Witch and Warlock one last glare before he disappeared with a snap of his fingers.

The Witch relaxes before rushing over to scoop her children into her arms. Namjoon hot on her heels, The Witch reaches Jungkook first and scoops the boy into her arms as Namjoon takes Jimin into his. The Witch takes a moment to hold the child in her arms tightly before the cries of the other children around her pulls her away. 

The Witch looks over at Namjoon before handing Jungkook over to him, once Jungkook is safely in his arms The Witch holds her arms out spanning over the group of children. Soft chats fell from her mouth as a purple smoke rolled out from the swamp and swept over the clearing. The children around them yawned before they were consumed in the purple smoke and as the smoke cleared the children were nowhere to be found.

“They should be safely back in their beds now, I’m sure they’ll think this whole occurrence may have been a dream, so we needn’t worry about any kind of Trauma.” The Witch whispers as she holds her arms out to take one of her children. Namjoon hands her Jimin and The Witch gladly takes the Fae child. Jimin curls himself deeper into his mother’s body, holding on tightly. 

A soft smile graces The Witch’s lips, “It's alright my little Fae, I have you now.” The Witch coos. A whine pulls The Witch’s attention from the Fae to the wolf child as he pouts in her direction holding his hands out clenching them begging to be held. The Witch smiles as she shifts the Fae child in her arms to make room for the other, once there's room Namjoon carefully hands the child over. “You needn’t worry my littlest wolf I have you as well.” The Witch giggles, With the two children in her arms the four of them made their way back to her home hidden in the swamp. 

By the time they arrived at the gardens the sun peaks dawn, as they enter the garden the four beings are rushed by two familiars and one demon. All concerned for the safety of the children, the two children sleeping soundly in their mother’s arms. “Take them to bed, would you, Taehyung? Hoseok?” The Witch requests, the two addressed men nod and quickly take a child from her. Taehyung taking Jungkook and Hoseok taking Jimin, as the two left with the sleeping children Yoongi followed after the flaming bird giving the two magic casting beings their privacy. 

“I thank you Namjoon, for coming despite the late hour.” The Witch smiles, “Not to worry, I wouldn’t be a proper figure in their lives if I didn’t, would I?” Namjoon replied with a bashful smile. “Well…” Namjoon sighs after moments of almost uncomfortable silence “Yoongi and I must be going, I have work to do before I relieve myself any more time to relax. It was a pleasure seeing the boys so soon despite the circumstance,” Namjoon smiles, kindly excusing himself for his departure. The Witch nods her head as The Warlock snaps his fingers for Yoongi to appear at his side, “Oh! And it’s been a pleasure to see you too, Eastern Witch.” The Warlock giggles before clapping his hands together and disappearing back to where he came from. Only to leave The Witch with a heated face and a small shy smile.

<---- Prev // Masterlist // Next ---->

[spaceumbredoggos]

Headcanons on Kenz and Ford’s relationship.

Ford secretly always wanted a kid. Whilst his niblings come close, they were never really his and he always had to share them with Stan. Then Kenz came along and Ford willingly put himself in a parental position despite Kenz being almost nineteen. This is because he sees a lot of himself in Kenz and knows that Kenz could fall down even darker paths than he did (also Kenz being related to an old Pines family friend, one that Stan trusted so fondly and kept in touch with even during Ford’s portal years certainly helps.)

Ford is really pissed off at Kenz’s father for basically almost living through them. He’s even madder at Kenz’s grandfather for living through his son and starting the cycle of generational trauma. Also, Kenz’s father and grandfather are really far right, and feud with a lot of Ford’s ideals.

The thing that pisses off Ford the most is that Kenz’s father tried to mask their autistic traits and tried to force them to fit a mold unfit for them. Ford wishes he got in touch with Kenz sooner and wishes that he could have stopped Jacob’s abusive tendencies. He’s really pissed that Kenz never really had a genuine high school and college experience and probably never will due to their trauma at the hands of the American education system.

Kenz initially saw themself as the role of Ford’s apprentice and nothing more. That being said, when they were forced to move in with Ford, they were pretty angry and thought this was another case of their father’s network of friends trying to control their life. If it weren’t for Bill, Kenz might have actually had a healthy chance at healing from their generational trauma without Ford’s health. Kenz secretly blames Ford for his past relationship with Bill at first, and puts up such a standoffish front of anger as an effort to push others away. Ford is never hurt by Kenz’s actions and they only bring him closer.

A lot of Kenz’s early relationship with Ford was a lot like Loona and Blitzø. Kenz thinks that they don’t need a fatherly or parental figure and would want to do everything on their own. However, they can’t do everything because they struggle a lot with executive functioning and a lot of AuDHD related issues. They can take care of themself to an extent, but get frustrated when they can’t do something. They freeze and don’t ask for help, and due to past abuse, they fawn a lot.

A lot of Kenz’s rage is masked. Kenz doesn’t physically act out. Even their verbal meltdowns are usually not insulting and are angrily stating very true facts. They get a lot of flashbacks triggered by Ford’s blue eyes, something that their father characteristically had.

Kenz initially didn’t want anything to do with anyone touching them, despite the fact that they’re very much touch starved and one of their platonic languages is being touched. They love cuddling platonically and they love hugs (as long as those hugs aren’t too tight.) They don’t let just anyone pet their head, but if they admire someone platonically enough (or sexually, as in the case with Loona and Bee (I am pretty sure they’re Aromantic Pansexual.)) they allow and even enjoy the head pats.

Once Kenz finally got around to trusting Ford, they spend a lot of their time with him. They don’t really have a crush on him, but they have a really bad squish (platonic crush). Not obsessive, but almost a case of hero worship.

[yanyanderes]

I bet the reader isn't the only one Donnie put a tracker on, he also puts them on people/yokai he thinks are a threat and whenever they get too close to the reader an alarm goes off warning him. And if Donnie, for whatever reason, can't get there in time nor any of his machines then April will swoop in and “save” the day. Any duo including the family is scary in of itself but Donnie and April as a duo is really something ~special~.

But another thing, I do wonder how Splinter would be if he was a yandere for the reader, would he be like a second father to them, would he treat them like one of his own. I dont see alot of yandere Splinter content out there so how would I know?

I had this one scenario in my head that I wanted to make into a one shot but I didn't have enough ideas to keep it going, it was about you and Leo going on a date at a party. Throughout your time there Leo can't help but see someone stare at you so he tries to keep your attention on him by flirting . And it works, after a while it gets a bit too crowded for you so you go outside, while your chit chatting the night oway you confess that you saw someone stare at Leo but didn't want to confront the person in fear of making things awkward. “I mean you are really handsome” you say with a smile. It took him off guard, all the murderous thoughts Leo was thinking was swept as you squished his cheeks while complementing him on how “good looking” he was, further fueling his ego.

oh yeah, definitely.

donnie’s got a handful of trackers on hand 24/7 just in case someone sketchy comes along.

and then there are some people/yokai that he sees (y/n) with and he just gets so jealous of them, he plants a tracker on them anyways and watches them with a diligent eye, waiting for them to make one slip up so he can have an excuse to go after them.

and yes, i LOVE yandere team ups, i’ll take your entire stock.

this duo in particular i really love. april probably stays by (y/n)’s side the most while donnie watches from the monitors. the moment someone he planted with a tracker gets close, he’ll give april the heads up so she can either keep (y/n) away from them until donnie shows up, or she can take the threat down while (y/n) isn’t paying attention or something.

i feel like they’d argue a lot though. no serious fights like getting physically violent or anything, but more petty squabbles about things like who (y/n)’s favorite is. they never take anything said seriously, and they’re still a really good team, but these little quarrels happen often, and they can both get real sassy lol

and YES. there needs to be more familial yandere content.

splinter would try to show off how much of a cool dad he is, telling (y/n) all of his best stories from when he was lou jitsu. even though most of them are impressive enough, he definitely exaggerates some of his stories to make him seem that much cooler.

probably pulls the “oh i used to be such a cool movie star dude, now i’m an old rat man who lives in the sewers and i’ve lost all my glory, please don’t leave me too :(” card. and why would they leave him? yeah, he can be pretty messy and lazy, but he’s also super fun to be around, and his stories always leave them wanting more!

yeah, he knows (y/n) probably has their own parents, but isn’t he so much cooler? he’s a ninjitsu master and he’s starred in so many cool movies! probably teaches (y/n) a couple ninjitsu moves so that they can protect themselves and so that they look up to him more.

i know this wasn’t a part of the ask but like- i love imagining splinter and draxum fighting to be (y/n)’s favorite dad.

and both fail.

ok, draxum would probably fail a lot little harder than splinter, because he goes from 1 to 11 so quickly. oh, someone is bullying (y/n)? ok, he’ll go t e a r t h e i r h o u s e d o w n

but then there’s splinter who tries so hard to seem cool. if it was just him, he’d be a lot more chill, but now that he knows he’s got some competition, he’s a lot more desperate. so he tries to win their favor by being all hip and down with the kids and it’s just painful.

i’m just thinking of draxum, splinter and (y/n) having dinner. the guys are out on a mission or something, so it’s just the three of them. draxum and splinter are glaring at each other while eating. they had recently been arguing over who was (y/n)’s favorite, so they’re both in a salty mood.

and then suddenly, draxum slams his hands on the table and points at (y/n), telling them to finally knock some sense into splinter by saying that draxum is clearly their favorite.

and then splinter jumps in, saying that draxum is crazy. surely, they would favor the famous lou jitsu over some goat man that nearly doomed the human race, right?!

and then (y/n)’s sitting there, just trying to finish their dinner like

awww, and the thought of (y/n) accidentally stopping leo from confronting the person/yokai is nice!

i mean, it only stops the dark thoughts temporarily, but at least they’ve bought the person/yokai a little bit more time!

so they spend the rest of the date night flirting and gushing over each other and showering each other in affection. although the dark thoughts pop back up every once in a while, he’s able to bury them all under his obsession love for his s/o. for now, at least.

“your kisses are to die for~”

[wri0thesley]

i know we all love toji being nasty, but i'd love to see a (slightly) sweeter side of him and the reader as mamaguro, if possible?? maybe featuring the reader in his lap, the first time toji's ever really wanted to really do right by his partner... the ability of a man like him to have a softer side has plagued me ever since akutami said he mellowed out with his wife 😭

saying the important things - toji x fem!reader (2.1k)

toji’s not the kind of man who wears his heart on his sleeve. but he’ll try, for you. 

warnings: none! reader is mamaguro and uses fem pronouns, pregnancy is briefly talked about. this is just soft honestly

[reblogs/comments appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Megumi is sleeping.

He lays in his crib, his chubby cheeks squished against the soft mattress, his hair dark and messy. At times like this, you can see so much of Toji in him, and it makes your heart ache. You can’t believe that you helped create something so perfect – from his tiny face, the tilt of his nose, the perfectly formed fingers and toes . . . You find it hard to believe that Megumi could really be yours.

“You’re starin’ at the kid again.”

Toji’s voice comes from behind you and startles you – you jump, guiltily turning to see your husband. His voice is dark and rough, but as you see him you realise that his face is anything but. Oh, sure – he has a scar bisecting the corner of his lip, muscles rippling out of a tight black shirt. But the look on his face is peaceful, and as he meets your eyes it just seems to fade into something even more so.

“You come stare at him,” you say, “you’ll understand why.”

He makes a little huff of amusement – but Toji Fushiguro is under your thumb, so he humours you by moving forward. Big arms wrap around your waist, making you feel safe and held in his embrace. His chin rests on your shoulder, sharp green eyes on the messy-haired bundle of wonder sleeping in the crib that you’d watched Toji build with a screwdriver clenched between his teeth.

(“How hard can it be?” He’d asked you. “S’flat pack, right? Guys who aren’t half as smart as me do it--”. In the end, it had taken six and a half hours and Toji had had to physically pick you up and sit you down on a chair because you couldn’t stop bending down to help. He’d placed his hands on his hips and pointed an accusing finger at you. “You’re gonna get yourself stressed, sweetheart, and it isn’t gonna do any good for the kid.” You hadn’t expected Toji Fushiguro to be the over-protective kind . . . but you’d be lying if you said that his pout and furrowed eyebrows weren’t adorable).

Megumi’s eyes had turned the same shade of green as Toji’s around the five month mark, for the record.

“We did a good job, huh?” There’s a hint of pride in Toji’s voice that he does his best to dampen down – he’s trying to be cool, even now. Your hands come to rest over his own, where they’re clasped onto your hips.

“I think we did a great job,” you tell him, and snorts out a little laugh against your neck that tickles, making you bend back into sub-consciously. “No, really. I think he’ll fetch a high price on the black market. Look at all of that hair.”

“Takes after me,” Toji tells you. “I think I’d fetch a high price too.”

“You know you’d fetch a high price,” you say, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck. You find yourself on your tip-toes just so you can feel a little closer to equal to him. “You’re a wanted man, Mr Fushiguro--”

“You’re a wanted woman, Mrs Fushiguro,” He says, bending his head – and his lips brush across yours, and you feel your entire body fill with the heady knowledge that he wants you. You know it – he makes it clear in the gentler way he holds you against him, his attempts to do chores around the house, the way his fingers entangle with yours when you’re out doing grocery shopping as a little family. But there’s something that you can’t quite express that feels all the more special about the embrace and the words when you two are on your own.

It hadn’t always been like this.

When you’d first met Toji, he’d been all dark flashing eyes and dangerous smile and tugging hands, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as he flirted and charmed his way into your life. His voice had been dark and deep, he’d winked at you and made insinuations and insisted, occasionally, that this wasn’t a relationship so much as a mutually beneficial arrangement--

Until someone else had flirted with you in a club and Toji had grabbed your hand and pulled you into him, arm wrapping around your waist. Perhaps you’d been trying to make him jealous – you’d long ago accepted that your crush on Toji and desire to make him yours officially were going to come to a sticky end, seeing as he seemed to value his freedom so highly – but you hadn’t expected it to work.

He’d murmured into your neck that night that you were his, forever, and he never wanted to see someone else’s hands on you again--

“Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend, finally, then?” You’d asked, a hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing the scar on his lip. Toji had grinned at you, dark and deep and dangerous but warmer than you’d ever seen it. He’d held you that night like he’d just realised how precious you were.

“Sweetheart,” he’d said to you in response. “Hell. Y’can call me your husband if you want.”

You had laughed and thought he was joking.

“Maybe I’ll try that after a proper proposal,” you’d said, tapping his nose. You’d expected him to grab your hand before you could make contact and pin you underneath him, tell you off for being so cheeky – but instead, the pad of your finger had made contact with it and you swore you’d seen a dark flush dust his high cheekbones.

You’d figured that was the end of it, until two weeks later he’d pulled out an expensive-looking ring whilst the two of you watched a movie.

“Well?” He’d asked you, looking almost uncomfortable – almost afraid that you might say ‘no’. “Whaddya say, angel? Gonna try callin’ me husband now?”

And you had.

He’d confessed everything to you before he’d asked about taking your name. His exact line of work, why he wanted to leave his old surname behind – and though you know you shouldn’t have, you’d simply taken it in stride. If this was what it took to have him, you would accept it; it had been too long, and you loved him too much, to simply walk away. You’d found out you were expecting Megumi six weeks before the small wedding and had told Toji immediately.

He’d seemed scared, but he’d seemed excited to – whirling you around like you weighed nothing before he anxiously put you back down and stepped back.

“That’s fine, right?” He’d asked. “I dunno much about kids. I haven’t hurt ‘em or anything, have I?”

He’d made a real effort around the house whilst you were incapacitated by your pregnancy, too – sometimes too much of one, as he batted away your attempts at cooking or cleaning with an insistent ‘I can do it, sweetheart!”. You’d let him make mistakes – honestly, a couple of disasters notwithstanding he’d made a decent effort.

You’re not afraid to leave Megumi alone with him, though Toji still hasn’t quite mastered the life skill of ‘talking to my baby as if he is my child and not simply a friend who I want to slightly intimidate’.

Sometimes you see Toji sat in an armchair with Megumi in his arms, a tiny hand wrapped around Toji’s massive thumb, and you think you could die from how much you love them both.

“C’mon,” Toji murmurs, breaking the kiss. “He’s fast asleep.”

You let yourself be dragged over to said armchair in the corner of the room, next to the little case of children’s books you and Toji had chosen for him

Megumi likes dogs; he claps his pudgy little hands together whenever one is introduced in the bright colours and flat pages. At nine and a half months, he had furrowed his little face and pronounced; “Gog. Goggy.”. Toji had grabbed the cheap camcorder that he’d been recording as many milestones as possible on and tried to bully Megumi into saying it again, but all of the footage he’d actually gotten was you laughing in the background as Megumi attempted to cross his chubby little arms and look at his father in disapproval. He had not said ‘goggy’ again until you had thoughtlessly picked up a little pair of black and white stuffed dogs whilst in a toy-shop with him to show him. Toji had had to go back to the shop ten minutes before closing to purchase them, and even now Megumi tucks them under his arms when you take him out in his pushchair.

You let yourself, too, be pulled into Toji’s lap as your husband gets comfortable, readjusting your body so he can wrap his arms around you and you can bury your face into his neck.

He smells like cigarettes and your laundry powder, familiar and comforting.

He takes a deep, pleased breath that makes the muscles in his throat ripple – you bring up a hand and trace them, fingertip lodging in the hollow of his throat for a moment before your hand moves down to rest over his clavicle, and then where his heart is beating steadily under his clothes and skin.

“You feelin’ me up, baby?” He asks with a smirk. “Y’can just ask, you know--”

“I’m feeling your heartbeat,” you say to him, listening to his pulse in his neck. “I think it might have stopped. We should look into it.” “Is this because I made that joke about the black market? Babe, you’d never let me fuckin’ sell our kid--” “Don’t swear around Megumi,” you say, automatically, your eyes swivelling to Megumi’s crib without moving your head from its comfortable position. “You’ll give him a dirty mouth.”

“You love my dirty mouth,” Toji purrs, the arm around your waist pulling you in tighter and closer. Heat rushes to your face and you give him a headbutt in the neck that’s half affectionate and half warning.

“Not now,” you say, sighing comfortably. Toji is warm and solid and always there for you. “I’m too comfy.”

“Ah, far be it for me to interrupt your nap-time,” he teases, but he pushes a kiss onto your forehead anyway. “Hell, I could go to sleep here myself. Nobody said havin’ a kid would be this much effort.”

“Everyone said it,” you say, stifling a yawn. “You just didn’t believe them.”

He snorts again.

“Y’got me there,” he says. “Wouldn’t change him for the world, though.”

“You’re just saying that because he takes after you,” you smile against his skin. “If he looked like me and acted like me, if he was sweet and demure--”

This gets another laugh from Toji, who knows exactly just how not sweet and not demure you can be.

“I’d love him even more, probably,” he says. “We’re gonna have some fuckin’ blow-ups in the future, sweetheart. Good job you’ll be around to sort out your men, right?”

The arm not about your waist moves so he can cup your face now, tip your chin up towards him. His eyes are still very sharp, but they’re softened with love as he looks down at you. Toji gives you these moments in the quiet of night – when he’s not formerly-of-the-Zenin-family, when he’s not the ‘Sorcerer Killer’, when he’s not an assassin-for-hire – when he’s just Toji Fushiguro, your husband and father of your child. You treasure every single one of them and hold them close to you like a precious pearl, stringing them onto a necklace of memories you’ll cling to forever.

“I’ll be around forever,” you tell him. “If I die, I’ll come back to haunt you and tell you what a shitty job you’re doing on the PTA.”

He snorts.

“Don’t even joke,” he tells you with a flickering smirk – but that smirk quickly drops away to be replaced with a look of intense solemnity. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Are you getting soft on me?” You ask, but the hand tipping your chin up does a little jerk.

“Please,” Toji says, a little softer now. “Let me tell you I love you and mean it.”

Sparks fly all through your stomach, your heart twisting in your ribcage. You rarely see this kind of gravitas on his face – he rarely takes this tone, almost needy as he implores you to listen.

“I love you too,” you breathe. “You know that.”

He pulls you into a kiss that knocks the breath out of you, that makes you feel like you and Toji and Megumi are the only real people on Earth and everyone else is an imitation.

“Yeah,” he says, gruff. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearin’ you say it, though.”

[kitmoas]

Kit! 💕 ahhhh I am so excited to read more training grounds! I love all of tgu but my top 3 would be Kate visiting toys father, little!toy, and Kate getting her first collar! 💕

I love all three of these so MUCH! I'm going to put this under a cut though because it got long I have a feeling that I'll need to put a good bit of these under cuts lol

Send me your favorite TGU moments and I'll talk bout them

Kate visiting Toy's father...is honestly one of my favorite things I have ever even thought of. I always knew that Kate meeting Toy's father was going to be important to their relationship. I knew that it was going to be adorable as well but something is just so pure and innocent with Kate talking to the grave like he's there. For me the change was going to be the ending where Kate is the first one that says I love you. I wrestled for a while with putting it in Now and Always because I wasnt sure if I wanted to out that fun little fact, so it did get cut a few times before making it in. (From Now and Always)

Little Toy- is honestly something I worked on bringing into the TGU from the very beginning. It was something I was pretty nervous bringing into the universe though. I’ve had a few people try to guess at where little toy shows up in the story before the Chronicles; I’ll drop a few.

The kiss, as Wanda finally takes control, makes you whimper out, “..Mommy..” Wanda never gets to actually answer because the widow is gently pulling the two of you apart, a teasing pout on her face. “Hey now, c’mon what am I? Did you just forget that I existed? You’re my little princess and I don’t even get a hug?” You launch yourself at the ginger, literally wrapping all your limbs around her knowing that she would always catch you. “There’s my girl.” Her voice is muffled in your neck as you cling to her. “I missed you so much Daddy, so much. I do-on’t ever wanna do that again.” She pulls away, a firm look on her face as she hears your voice crack. “I just got you guys back, I don’t wanna be apart again.” The widow just nods, fighting to keep her own emotions in check, pulling you back to hug her. She’s leaving kisses wherever she can reach, gentle and soft. (Emotional Toy slipped into tiny smol head space the moment Mommy showed up-Break You)

The ginger is rolling her eyes as she rubs your cheek, “Maybe I want a wild card to counter balance our angel princess here.” (Smol little princess Toy was indeed present here- Flood Gate)

You liked the soldier, he was soft and nice; letting you curl up to his arm when you felt sick or wanted to nom on something. He smiles at you, holding his metal arm out to you. Wada watches with warm eyes as you gnaw on it for a moment before Tony and Steve both clear their throats to start the meeting. (Little Toy/Chronicles was mentioned here, though was not present-Flood Gate)

When the three finally find you, sitting in front of a display case with your face squished against the glass, Wanda cringes and pulls your head back. She’s immediately pulling out a wipe to clean your face as Natasha chuckles some at what you’re looking at. (Smol little Sweets being gross and cute at the sex shop-Under their Control)

Kate getting her first collar—this was one that I know didn’t get a lot of traction but it truly was a gorgeous moment between WandaNat and Kate. Under their Control was so light and I just love the idea of Kate having entirely too many collars that no one can truly keep a count on them. I think for Kate having a physical representation of something that, especially for a long while, she doesn't truly know if she belongs in is super important.

“If you’ll have us, we want you to be ours. Under our control, under our protection, under our guidance we want you to thrive, Little Mutt.” It’s simple, blunt, but it’s exactly what Kate needed to hear. Too many words would have confused her as the fog settled behind her eyes as the weight of the leash settled in her hands. The ocean eyes drift back and forth between the two sets of green, before nodding shyly. (This moment really did get me. Like Nat being so blunt and knowing that it's exactly what Kate needed just makes me AHH--Under their Control)

[akirakurusuimagines]

had the idea of reader getting marin karin'd and it not wearing off after leaving the metaverse so our dear boy helps her out by gently overstimulating her in front of a mirror 👉👈

I'm sorry for how long it's been taking to get this out! Hopefully the others won't take as long. Please enjoy! (minors DNI)

It only takes one mistake for everything to fall apart.

Akira believed they were sufficiently prepared to waltz right into Mementos and explore the depths that opened after the public’s response to their latest and greatest heist. He disregarded Morgana’s incessant warning that he was running low on ailment-curing items and revival items, reminding the cat that he was already planning on putting him and Makoto on the front lines this time so there was nothing to worry about.

So really, this mess was his fault. As leader, he knows he shoulders the responsibility of anything and everything that happens, even if his teammates don’t blame him.

It began to storm back in the real world as they reached the end of the current depths⁠; a painstakingly slow thirteen floors⁠ to comb through in search of treasure and experience. Everyone was nearing their physical and mental limits for the day, but at the sight of a rare challenger on their way back, they let their youthful recklessness seep through. One more, they all thought, one more to end the trip on a high note.

The high note they sought after quickly⁠ and almost comically⁠ became shrill.

The battle turned for the worst: unable to find a weakness, you and Mona were left with minimal SP, Queen had suffered an ill-timed critical attack and was knocked out cold, and Joker himself was running on fumes. Mind scattered in desperation, Joker attempted to regain some footing by attacking the particularly strong enemy with Marin Karin, hoping to charm it.

He didn’t expect that the enemy would end up reflecting it back at him.

Nor that you would take the brunt of the attack by jumping in front of him last-minute.

Joker and Mona finished the battle through sheer dumb luck, and all of the thieves expected things to return to normal. Queen stood up on shaky legs and thanked Panther for medicine, but when they turned to look at you, their hearts dropped.

Your face was flushed and eyes glassy, no different than how you were in battle. The unspoken rules of Mementos was broken⁠—somehow you didn’t come to once the fight finished.

Joker took to your side immediately, helping you up but freezing at the garbled moan that slipped past your lips the moment his hands landed on you. The others looked on with concern and fear, not understanding why this was happening, but it was obvious to everyone that they needed to leave immediately. He apologized to them and announced that he’ll be taking you home to make sure you’re safe and resting while the others research the strange divergence.

His arm wrapped loosely around your waist, keeping you steady as you mindlessly clung to him, and ushered you out of Mementos and towards the trains.

Akira felt like he was suffocating. If this is how he was feeling, he could only start to imagine what you’re suffering through right now.

He kept you hidden from view as best as he could, squished in the corner between the door, the seats, and him. Akira put you in a spare face mask he had and slid his glasses over your nose, hoping to protect your identity in case any snooping individual lingered on you two a little too long.

“Hold on just a little longer for me, okay? We’re almost there.”

He watched your knees buckle and your thighs clench together at his words and felt his mouth run dry. Akira willed himself to stay calm, to steady his heartbeat, but it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do when you were in a state like this. Especially considering he harbored feelings for you.

“Please,” you begged. He almost didn’t hear it with how quietly you murmured it. “Akira, I… I need…”

Fuck, you were going to be the death of him.

“Yeah?” he leaned in closer, hoping to catch the rest of what you’re saying.

Your hand grabbed his thigh, tugging his leg closer to you and causing him to stumble forward, balancing with his forearm next to your head. He stared at you with wide eyes as you shifted his leg with no resistance between your thighs and sat on it, slowly and carefully grinding against it.

Akira’s head whipped around, making sure no one was watching as you shamelessly used his leg to relieve some of the pressure that Marin Karin’s charm had on you. He nearly stopped breathing when you whined right next to his ear, a sound too soft for anyone else to notice as the train screeched to another halt.

Your stop was next, but there was no way he was making it out of this without a boner. He looked back at you and swallowed hard, only able to see the way your eyes were screwed shut and eyebrows knitted with frustration and concentration, pressing yourself a little harder against the meat of his thigh.

“Need more, ‘s too hot,” you blabbered softly, hands gripping the lapel of his blazer. “want you, want you so bad⁠—”

“We⁠—we’re almost home,” Akira choked out, each passing moment more difficult than the last. He wanted to pinch himself, wondering if this was actually some wild porno dream he was having back in Leblanc, but the way you felt rutting against his thigh like this was far too real for him to deny this was reality.

“Akiraaaa...”

He nearly lost himself when he saw your teary-eyed expression, suddenly grateful for the crowded train dissuading him from bending you over the train seats and giving into temptation. Akira wanted to know every part of you: every touch that makes you keen, every kiss that makes your head spin, every position that makes you cream.

Akira almost praised the gods aloud when the announcer comments on your stop, pulling himself off of you despite your whines and taking your hand in his, squeezing it tightly as he nearly runs out of the train the second the doors behind you open.

It was quite the ordeal dragging you back home. Every moment he stopped, your hands would wander, gripping his shirt or his belt loops, sliding your hand underneath to feel the warmth of his skin. You pressed closer and closer against him, your inhibitions far-gone, leaving only your charmed mind.

He grabbed your wrist firmly when you reached for his crotch at the door to your house, sucking in a large breath and hoping you’d be able to contain yourself enough for him to open the door with your keys and lead you inside.

Akira pushed open the door and dragged you inside, kicking it closed and locking it quickly. He couldn’t help the whole-body sigh that passed through him with the relief of privacy.

You, however, took it as your cue to tackle him to the ground and relieve yourself.

“Shit, wait, hold on⁠—” Akira staggered back, gripping your hip and arm and barley catching himself. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t want to try to get… uh… get off on your own?”

“No no no no no⁠—!” you shook your head adamantly despite your slurred voice, the sheer panic in your voice and face surprising him. “Want you, only you, please.”

Akira pressed his lips together in a tight line and hoisted you up in his arms, silently thanking the rough training he’s been enduring with Ryuji. The way your eyes lit up as he carried you to your bedroom made his heart palpitate, the rational side of him quickly losing to the promise of passion.

He really was weak to you.

He grunted as his legs hit the bed, falling down with you on his lap. Akira barely had time to speak before your lips were all over him, kissing all over his face and jaw as you roughly grinded against him. He choked down his moans and tangled a hand in your hair, hoping to slow you down with a sharp tug to your scalp.

Akira felt you seize up the moment he did, nails digging into his shoulders despite the layers of clothing, pressing your hips harder against his, and with a loud cry, he felt dampness against his crotch. It took a moment to process that you came untouched, just from him having you in his lap and tugging your hair.

“Did you just…?” his hand wandered towards your pants, slipping inside your underwear and feeling the sticky substance coat his fingers as he reached your thighs. He pulled them out, observing the strands between his fingers and licking them clean with a low groan. “That’s so hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

Akira palmed your crotch and felt you shudder as you rolled your hips against his again. “But… it isn’t enough, right?”

“Nnno…”

He looked around the room briefly and caught his own eyes in the floor-length mirror in your room.

“Stand up for me and strip, sweetheart,” Akira instructed with a gentle slap to your thigh.

He loved the way you scrambled off of him, shedding your clothes and looking at him with the same hazy doe-eyes that made him spend countless private hours fantasizing about. You looked at him with so much lust, being so obedient for him in hopes of getting another orgasm.

He shrugged off his blazer and tossed it aside, shifting closer to the mirror until it stood in front of him. “Turn around and sit back on my lap.”

Akira steadied you with gentle hands on your hips as you sat on his lap and pressed your sticky thighs together to feel some kind of friction against the torturous heat. He pried them open, spreading your legs to straddle him and spreading you open for the mirror.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he gently chided, “keep these pretty thighs open for me, okay?”

Akira refused to touch you until you nodded.

“Perfect,” he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder, “you’re absolutely perfect.” Akira guided his hands up from your thighs to your chest, brushing against your nipples and continuing his path up until he reached your face. He cupped your cheeks in his hands and tilted your face up, forcing you to look at the shameful display you created with him. “I want you to look at yourself as I touch you,” Akira explained, “I want you to see everything.”

You nodded dumbly, anything to get his hands back to pleasuring you. “Please,” you continued to repeat with breathless whines, “I want more, I want you in me.” You pushed your ass harder against his hard cock, hoping he would take the bait. You wanted to be fucked silly and at this point you really didn’t care how you got there.

Akira sucked in a sharp breath and shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut and stilling for a few seconds as you continued to grind yourself on his dick. “Later, okay?” his voice wavered and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his own word with how enthusiastic you seemed about riding him.

He let go of your face and skimmed your inner thighs, catching the cum from your first orgasm on his fingers and finally touching you properly. You keened, head falling back as he slowly pressed two fingers into your hole. “Yes⁠!” you groaned, spreading your thighs a little further and bucking your hips into his hand, “More, please, oh god it feels so good⁠— hnn!”

Akira’s hand steadied your head, once again pushing you to look at yourself as his fingers thrusted in and out of you. “Come on, baby. Don’t stop watching,” he purred as he scissored his fingers inside of you. “Oh, you liked that?”

You grasped his hair and his wrist, incoherent noises fumbling from your lips as Akira brought you to another orgasm within minutes. Marin Karin had quite the effect on you: keeping your stamina high and your libido higher, giving you more orgasms than you’ve had in your life, emptying your head and leaving nothing but pleasant buzzing.

He stared at you in the mirror, catching your unfocused gaze as your eyes shifted from his face to his hand and back again. “You’re doing so good,” Akira mumbled strings of words he barely paid attention to as you squirmed in his hold. He added another finger, stretching you out further and curling his fingers inside of you. He felt your legs shake and watched your jaw go slack as pleasure only continued to build.

“Again?” he asked, groaning at how you clench around his fingers, barely giving him room to move them. Even still, you continue to thrust your hips into his hands⁠, unsatisfied. “I’ll give you as many orgasms as you need,” Akira promised, kissing your cheek and resting his temple against yours, “I won’t stop until you’re begging.”

[cloudteawrites]

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

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results. 

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

“How do I look?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s been a change of plans.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “Jimin-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you were his attorney.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ms. Y/N-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room is a veritable Eden. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m not-”

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

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach turns. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fourteen.” He bites out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joonie-” he pleads. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

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

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

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

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

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi 

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

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

“...Hello?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

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

“...Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tommyspeakycap]

Please write one about making fun of Jack for being jealous over the fact that your baby is getting more cuddles from you. Thank youuuuuuu

Mama’s Boys

“He’s just gorgeous,” Karen coos softly, her finger gently brushing over the sweet baby boys little face as he lays snugs swaddled in your arms. Jack re-enters the living room of his beautifully decorated home with his dad and brother in tow. Kiera stifles a laugh as she leans closer to your side and mutters; “How many Grealish men does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” To which your lips stretch wide across your face with her laughter-lit eyes. Karen leans in too, “Hopefully not as many as it takes to fit a car seat.”

Laughter bounces through you, Jack’s mother and his two younger sisters, only fuelled by the the confused looks from each of the Grealish men. The little boy in your arms barely even stirs.

“We’re ready to go whenever you are.” Kevin announces, clapping his hands together in that very true dad fashion that indicates he’s now wanting to get going. If the way he had been trying to hint at being hungry hadn’t already suggested that. Everyone starts to move around fairly soon after that, with Jack’s mother helping you out to the car. Your two week post baby body hadn’t quite healed up yet and she had been the most amazing help you could ever have imagined. Jack was fantastic, but his mother was experienced in looking after kids and she could come over while Jack was working. He had his last game before his Christmas break just three days ago.

You sat in the back of the car, eagle eyes still too soon after birth to want to be away from your brand new baby boy just yet.

“I can’t believe we got a Christmas baby.” You beam as he helps you out the car, one around around your waist while his other hand held tight around the baby carrier as you walk together through his parents front door. It always made Jack nervous to be carrying it in case he dropped his newborn son despite how man times you reassured him he wouldn’t. “I still can’t believe we have a baby.” He admits, his voice the very sound of disbelief. His heart had been so overwhelmed with joy but his work didn’t slow down to allow him to process it, so he was still pretty much in shock that there was another tiny little human who now relied on you both for everything. “And such a perfect baby,” Jack continues as he sets the carrier with your sleeping son down carefully on the floor, “Just like his mama.” He leans in, pressing his lips softly down onto yours, hands reaching around to pull you into his chest-

“Waaaaa!”

You break apart quickly. Jack sighs in discontent with his eyes falling closed as you crouch to scoop your baby boy up into your arms and walk off into the packed Grealish family living room. Jack groans once your out of earshot. He felt like he hasn’t hugged or kissed you in forever when he had been used to getting your affection and giving you his multiple times throughout the day.

Baby boy Grealish was being fed on demand via what Jack had referred to as the “nippular method” that had you physically wetting your pants a little bit. What he meant of course was breast feeding, but the word had failed to find him at that moment. So it would be safe to say there was very little time for he and you to even be holding much of a conversation between last minute Christmas shopping, wrapping and meeting family even though Jack had assured you a million times that his family wouldn’t mind if you just took a break to relax after literally pushing a child out of you. He just wanted a bloody kiss.

He didn’t blame his baby at all, he loved that little boy more than anything he’d ever known. That’s exactly what Jack had been like. More than the world, more than his life itself. and he wasn’t surprised the bald little thing was a mama’s boy. But that did not mean he wasn’t going to pout about the little man getting more of you than he could. Last Christmas had been a day of hot chocolate sitting by the fire, constantly in his arms. This one he’d barely even touched you. That was bad enough for any man, but for Jack who is so physically affectionate and very tactile, it’s borderline painful.

“Are you alright, love?” Karen asks. Jack turns his head to her slowly, seemingly taken carefully from his trance. He was looking straight at the mantle where a picture of you, Jack and your baby boy was sitting pride of place. It was brand new and he loved it. You had the same one in your living room at home. Jack nods, but his sigh gives him away and leads his mother to sit down next to him. “Just want a bloody hug.” He admits, shrugging his shoulders and trying to hide his face for the embarrassment that creeps up his cheeks. Her mother responds to that with a small coo and attempts to wrap her arms around her son immediately, much fo his protest,

“Oi not from you eh? From (y/n)!” He protests, his mothers snot if laughter immediately meeting his ears. “S’ not funny, mum. Babies stole my fiancé.”

That only serves to make her laugh harder, also eliciting a laugh from his brother who immediately tells his eldest sister who sprints off through the house, taunting in a sing at the top of her lungs. Siblings are never too old to taunt each other like that.

“Jack’s jealous of the baby! Jack’s jealous of the baby!”

“Oi. I’m not!” He calls after her in protest, jumping to his feet just as you appear in the doorway with a cheeky glint in your eyes and a smug grin. He knows he can’t lie to you anyway, so he backs down and you giggle. The little boy wide awake now in your arms coos too, immediately attracting his daddies attention. Jack looks at you, standing there in an England Grealish 7 shirt cradling a baby boy who wears the same outfit. His heart is suddenly so, so warm. He hadn’t really been able to see his son like this, so awake and so alert for having been working so hard before the winter break finally allowed him full home time. He was going to be missing every match of January too to stay home with you guys and he couldn’t be more excited.

“You know,” you hum softly, “It would be nice to have a family cuddle, you know?”

Jack’s cheeks tint an ever so slight red, but he barely waits a moment before he wraps his arms around you and the baby, careful not to squish him as he pressed a kiss to your forehead gently.

“If it makes you feel any better son,” his dad cuts in with a clap on his back, “Our Christmas gift to you is a spa weekend and a coupon for granny-day-care.” And it very much does make Jack feel a bit better. With time, he’s surer than anything that you’ll work the intimacy and time for each other out. It’s a work in progress, a learn on the job kind of experience and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And really, neither would you for later that evening when you’re back at your beautiful little home and Jack is the one to clamber out of bed in the middle of the night to change and put his baby boy back down to bed, you find yourself listening to him speak to that sweet little boy through the baby monitor he left on. He’s talking about how sweet he is, how much his mummy and daddy love him and how stinky he is right now but daddy wouldn’t change him for the world. And then he trails off his silly baby voice that already makes you want another.

“You’re a mama’s boy though, aren’t you stinky man?” He coos, careful with his hands fastening those tiny little buttons on the front of a blue baby grow. He picks up the two week old and holds him carefully as he always does. “But daddy can’t blame you, bubba. Daddy loves your mama so, so much. It’s something we’ll always have in common eh? We’re both your mama’s boys.”

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Noona, Do You Not Like Younger Men? (Choi San+Jung Wooyoung)

Pairing: Choi San× Milf! Reader (Female)× Jung Wooyoung

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Idol AU.

Summary: Maybe going over to pester their favorite manager during her vacation wasn't such a bad idea, especially if it ends up with them getting what they always fantasized about every night.

Word Count: 4.2+K

Warnings: Age differences (still within legal boundaries), breast play including titty fucking (yeah I'm aware some of us don't have huge tits, I'm part of that squad but we can dream ok?) fingering, m+f+m threesome, ass grinding, spanking, degradation.

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @deja-vux @daniblogs164 @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @a-soft-hornytiny

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Y/N's eyes squinted at the two younger males who casually showed up at her home, uninvited and already letting themselves in as if they owned the place.

"Hi Noona. Did you miss us?" The older one of the two squished her cheeks together, earning him a slap on his wrist, which he did not appreciate.

"Aww Noona, now look what you've done. You made him sad." The other male pointed to the other's pout.

"Choi San and Jung Wooyoung, just what the hell do you think you're doing here?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Isn't it obvious? We came to keep you company!" San cheerfully exclaimed.

"We know you missed us so we decided to come over and spend time with our favorite manager." Wooyoung added as he went over to try and cling an arm around the older woman, but she brushed his hand away.

"Ok, in case you guys didn't know, I'm on vacation, a well needed vacation from my manager duties. Specifically from you two! You little brats who constantly give me migraines and high blood pressure. I got this vacation to get away from you both!"

The boys were taken aback by her outburst, looking back and forth between each other and then returned their faces back to her. Their somber and disappointed expressionism soon bursted out in laughter, confusing the woman in front of them.

"Oh Noona! You're so funny." San giggled.

"We know you love and adore us so much. And you're happy that we came to keep you company!" Against her will, and more since she was outnumbered, she let Wooyoung and San each take one of her arm and drag her over to the living room where they sat her down and started arranging the space so they could have a small movie day. Y/N let out slow and deep breaths as she tried not to lose her patience and just let the boys run around her house as they started putting the snacks they brought with them into bowls. She could hear them muttering angrily to each other from the kitchen, no doubt telling each other to be careful less they accidentally broke one of her plates. In less than 10 minutes, they had about  7 or 8 different bowls full of different snacks, ranging from crispy chips, to sour gummy worms and even different types of sweet chocolates.

"We even got mochi ice cream! Would you like some?" Wooyoung enthusiastically shoved the case that contained assorted flavors of the icy dessert.

Knowing she might as well enjoy the gluttonous snacks while she could, Y/N skimmed her hand over them and picked out one of the mint chocolate mochis and stuffed it in her mouth. Unbeknownst to her, the man on her right was staring at her with a wide smile as she ate the ice cream. When she noticed, she gave him a puzzled look and scooted further away from him.

"You chose the mint chocolate flavor." He giddily stated.

"Yes....any problem with that?" She questioned.

San emitted happy squeals at that.

"I love mint chocolate flavor too! Don't you see Noona? This further proves that were soulmates and destined to be together!"

Without even asking or warning, he snuggled himself against her, an arm around her waist as he used her chest as a makeshift pillow. Coming back from the kitchen, Wooyoung glared at San when he saw how close he was with their manager.

"Hey! No fair. Don't hog Noona up for yourself. We promised to share!" He quickly jumped on the other side and tried to tangle himself around her, proving to be difficult when San was pushing him away. Y/N ended up being pulled and tugged from both sides as the boys fought amongst themselves for her. Fed up with their antics, she reached her hands over and smacked both of their thighs sharply, making them retreat away from her less they suffered more physical pain from her.

"I want both of you to stay at least an arm's length away from me if you're planning to stay here and watch a movie. And absolutely under no circumstances do I want either of your mouths opening to sputter nonsense and annoy me further...Got it?!"

Both of the idols scooted to either ends of the couch, each grabbing a nearby cushion to keep them company and to protect them in case they furthered irritated their off duty manager. Y/N took a deep breath as she rubbed the side of her temples, letting the boys pick out which movie they wanted to watch. She probably wouldn't even enjoy the movie with the two rascals nearby, she thought to herself. Wooyoung and San settled for a cute looking movie, both of them hoping that the fluffy contents would soften up Y/N so they could cuddle up next to her once more. The woman however cringed when she saw the title.

"Ugh. Wake me up when whatever chick flick you chose is over." She settled back onto the couch, her eyes already closing.

"Aww come on Noona, give it a try. You might even like it." San suggested.

"Romantic movies have never been my type." She mumbled out, her hand reaching out to take some of the popcorn on the table to stuff in her mouth.

The movie played out exactly as she expected it to. Nothing short of all the typical cliches and stereotypes portrayed on every single romantic comedy made in existence. The boys would often look back at her every few minutes, their faces getting more and more discouraged when their manager didn't seem to be enjoying their company. It seemed that their plan to get close to her backfired as she was currently resting her chin on her palms, dozing off slowly while not paying one bit of attention on the screen in front of her.

"Told you to pick a scary movie." San complained to his friend.

"Your chicken ass can't even handle them." Wooyoung side eyed him.

"Yeah, but jump scares serve as an excuse to hug the person next to you." He tilted his head over to Y/N.

"Nice move, saying your plan out loud for her to hear. You dumbass."

Taking the pillow he had, San chucked it at Wooyoung, knocking the snacks he was currently eating onto the floor. Grabbing the pillow, he made move to throw it once more, but Y/N held a hand up.

"Throw that cushion and I will choke you Jung Wooyoung."

The warned boy immediately sat the cushion back down, setting his hands down on his lap.

"Please do...."

Y/N's half lidded eyes sprung wide open when she heard his whisper. Slowly she turned her head at him, of course Wooyoung noticed out of the corner of his eye and swallowed harshly. He didn't think she was paying attention enough to hear him, but she was. Wooyoung soon felt flushed as she eyed him with an indiscernible stare, trying desperately to focus his attention on the movie in front of him but the heavy weight of her stare kept burning through him. Seeing as he wasn't going to say or do anything else, Y/N decided it would be fun to tease him like he'd often tease her. Sliding on top of him, to the surprise of not only Wooyoung but his friend on the other side, Y/N hummed softly as her fingers ran up his chest.

"Please do what Wooyoung? Choke you? Is that what you want? Want my hand wrapped around that pretty of neck of yours?"

The flustered male shuddered when her fingers encapsulated over the front of his neck, lightly applying pressure against his Adam's apple with her palm.

"Oh someone likes this a little too much." She chuckled as she subtly rolled her hips on his tent that formed as soon as she touched him.

"Please Noona.." Wooyoung squirmed underneath her body, hips trying to grind up against hers.

"I barely did anything and you're already begging for me. You're an even bigger whore than I thought you were." She let out an annoyed 'tsk' as she slowly began to get off his lap.

When Wooyoung felt her detaching herself, his hands came out to clasp her waist, keeping her firmly planted on his lap.

"Yes I am, I'm such a whore for you Noona. But please don't leave me here like this." He whined at her, looking completely pitiful as his hands desperately tried to keep her from moving. Y/N reached a hand out to toss some of the hair away from his forehead, her mind already working on ways to play around with the young male. Noticing that his eyes kept falling towards her chest, she suddenly got an idea.

"You like my breasts Wooyoungie?"

Her question caught him off guard, eyes widening, looking like a deer caught in headlights, especially after she called him by his nickname. He was beyond flustered, unable to look up at his manager anymore.

"I asked you a question Wooyoungie and I expect an answer or else I'll leave you hanging there and make you watch as I play with Sannie instead."

The forgotten male beside them became excited at hearing her words, his hand rubbing against his inner thigh, slowly creeping up to the bulge in his pants. Tilting his chin up to look at her, Y/N repeated her question once more, expecting him to reply as it was his last chance.

"Y-yes. I like your breasts very much Noona." He finally admitted.

Satisfied at getting an answer, Y/N pulled away from Wooyoung so she could start removing her shirt, both boys watching her without batting an eyelash. When her bra dropped on the floor, they both stared in awe at her voluptuous chest, mouths agape and nearly drooling at the sight.

"Fuck, they're just-wow." San chimed in, tongue wetting the center of his lips.

"You like them too Sannie? I always thought you were more of an ass guy." She commented with a knowing smile, recalling all the times he'd come up behind her and greet her with a pat on her bum.

"Oh hell yeah I am, but I'd never say no to an opportunity to suck on a pretty pair of tits." He acknowledged with no hesitation.

"Is that so? Well then."

Prying Wooyoung's hands off her, Y/N sat herself back in between the boys, hands cupping both of her breasts to gently massage them in her palms, fingers tweaking at her nipples which were slowly getting fully erect. The two men at her sides watched with hungry eyes, only imagining how soft and tender her breasts must feel, both wanting to replace her hands with their own. Unbeknownst to them, they were about to get a better offer.

"There's one for each of you my loves, so go ahead. Put your pretty mouths on them and suck on them. And maybe if you do good enough, I'll play more with you guys."

Wooyoung and San simultaneously looked at one another, both wondering if they heard her correctly or it was another perverted thought their mind played on them. Realizing it was not, San was the first one to be bold as he cupped the breast nearest to him and brought it up to his lips, where he proceeded to coat the areola with spit before he latching onto it.

"So you're more of a dirty boy, aren't you Sannie?" She mused at him, fingers brushing some of the bangs on his face.

San only responded by lifting his eyes momentarily to shoot a wink her way before indulging back in his task of suckling on her tit. Y/N turned her attention to Wooyoung, who was still nervously sitting there in a pliant manner. She beckoned for him to come closer.

"Wooyoungie, my other breast feels lonely."

Getting the hint, Wooyoung lowered himself and practically squished his face into her fleshy mound. As expected, he was very vocal, spewing out lewd sounds as he harshly sucked on her nipple, bringing in as much of her as he could possibly put in his mouth. Y/N laid her head back on the top of the couch, mouth drawing out heavy breaths and pants as she relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of the the younger male's mouths on her breasts, their tongues and teeth eagerly swirling and nibbling on her sensitive flesh. She noticed how both of them had completely different patterns. Whereas San's suckling was less intense, it was definitely more sloppy, spit dribbling down his chin and down her chest from all the insane movements his tongue worked on her nipple, each of them clearly focused on bringing her as much pleasure as possible. Wooyoung was definitely more intense and full of eagerness, but each swirl of his tongue or nibbling on her skin was less meditated and more like he was simply enjoying to taste the older woman, playing around with her breast as if it was a toy for him to fondle and tease as he pleased. Not that she minded, she loved being used as a toy by them both.

She became so lost in the feeling of their mouths on her body that she didn't notice the hands that had traveled in between her thighs until she felt them prying them open in an effort to slide her shorts and underwear down. She became somewhat self conscious when they managed to tear the rest of her clothing off, her legs closing tightly. Tapping a finger on her knee, San pulled off her nipple to say:

"Spread your legs for us and let us see that soaking cunt of yours."

Wooyoung was just as shocked as she was at his informal and vulgar words, but it certainly served to arouse her even more. Getting talked down to by someone younger than her..... it was definitely something. Giving him what he, and probably also his friend, wanted, she opened up her legs. Putting aside her gorgeous breasts for the meantime, the 2 pairs of eyes peered down at the sight below them, their Noona's folds glistening just for them and because of them, her tiny bud aching to be touched by their fingers. Signaling to his friend, San dipped his fingers down, swirling them around her clit before pressing down on it.

"Oh she's needy Wooyoung, I can feel it throbbing against my finger." San smirked as he lightly rubbed against her clit.

"Is our pretty Noona in need of our fingers? Does she want to get stuffed with them?" Wooyoung muttered against her ear, lips quick to muffle the moan that responded to his question. It was a sweet and tender kiss that was interrupted by San who tilted her chin towards him so that he could kiss her as well.

"Don't worry Noona. We'll make sure you're full and satisfied."

Y/N gasped as she felt both of their fingers slowly insert themselves into her slick and wet walls. Nudging to each other, their fingers started moving to and fro, eyes watching closely each facial expression that took over her features, reveling in the blissful sighs that were spilling out of her lips. Y/N couldn't keep herself from clenching tightly around their fingers, mesmerized by the sight of both of them fingering her tight little hole.

"Are you enjoying this Noona? Like having your tight pussy fucked by Sannie's finger and mine?" Wooyoung giggled, pushing his finger deeper into her, knuckles pressing against her mound which had her shuddering.

"Yes she is Wooyoungie, look at how much tighter she's becoming."

With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he looked at Wooyoung.

"Maybe we should stretch her out even further. Don't you think?" He suggested, to which Wooyoung agreed to with a grin.

With a sharp inhale, Y/N released a whimper when 2 extra fingers intruded into her intimate region, stretching her further. The pace with which they were thrusting their fingers into her increased, each of the boys jamming their fingers at different timings, making sure that their tips touched the hood of her sex, grazing that sweet spot of hers. Y/N was a whining and moaning mess. The boys were not giving her any chance to relax, when one set of fingers was pulling out of her, the other set was pushing back in, continuing its abuse on her g-spot. She felt her thighs starting to trembling, her lower stomach building up her climax by the second. Even with the 4 fingers parting her wide open, she was starting to squeeze around them, wrapping them up in a blanket of heat that would soon coat them with her release.

"Are you gonna cum Noona? Cum on Sannie's and my fingers?" Wooyoung cooed as he drove his fingers faster into her to help her reach her orgasm faster.

Y/N could only manage to nod slightly, eyes shutting tight, unable to register anything else save for the slippery and squealching sounds that came from between her thighs. She didn't feel San press his lips against her ear until his low voice spoke in that sexy satoori accent of his.

"Cum for us Noona. Cum all over us."

With his encouragement, she tipped over the edge, crying out loudly as her release started streaming down her body and onto their hands, dripping even down to their wrists. The boys were kind enough to continue filling her hole with their fingers, helping her ride out her orgasm until she came down from her high.

"Shit. Look at all the mess you made on us. Such a dirty dirty Noona." San taunted as he forced her to look down at their cum covered hands, which they both brought up to lick clean right in front of her.

"And you taste so delicious." Wooyoung added with star struck eyes.

Cupping both of their chins, she placed a peck on each of their lips.

"Thank you for that my darling boys, you made Noona feel amazing. It's only right Noona makes you both feel just as good."

Not forgetting about the throbbing needs in their pants, she ordered them to strip in front of her, an order they were eager to comply with. Through clumsy fumbling, a pile of clothes was added to the previously discarded garments from the woman in front of them. Y/N couldn't hide the satisfaction on her face as she gazed at their erect cocks, standing proudly, waiting to be touched and played with.

"Well I suspected my boys were big, but even the reality is nothing like what I imagined." The men flushed at her words, flattered by the knowledge that she had indeed thought about them in that way before.

"Wooyoungie, lie down right here." She patted the space next to her.

Following her instructions, Wooyoung placed himself where she wanted him, displaying himself out to her. Hovering above him, Y/N kissed along his defined abs, getting dangerously close to the tip of his cock, exciting him while the member behind them envied their close proximity. Y/N pulled her face away right before her lips could touch his head.

"As much as I'd love to suck your pretty little cock, I think there's something you'll enjoy even more babyboy."

The pet name followed by the image of her breasts enveloping his shaft between them was enough to drive Wooyoung wild as he realized what she had in mind.

"Oh fuck Noona- yes please." He was anxious about having her warm tits hug around his length and fuck him until they were coated in his cum.

"I knew you'd love the idea."

Glancing back at the neglected male, Y/N motioned for him to come over.

"And I have an idea for you too my precious Sannie. Since you seem to like my ass so much, how about you stuff that cock of yours in my cheeks and fuck yourself on them?"

San's eyes bulged out, his dick twitching when he heard those words. It was such an erotic, kinky and naughty idea and he was all up for it.

"Shit- fuck yeah." He wasted no time as he straddled Y/N's behind, slapping his cock on each of her asscheeks before prying them apart and laying his shaft in between them.

"Fuck yourself as you want Sannie and try to keep up with Wooyoung and I." She challenged him, which he was more than willing to take up.

Spitting down on Wooyoung's cock and her tits to properly lubricate them, she sandwiched his shaft in her pillowy and soft flesh before rubbing her tits up and down on him. Wooyoung was releasing gasp after gasp the more he felt and saw his member disappear and reappear from his Noona's glorious valley. Meanwhile behind her, San busied himself as he started rutting his cock against the firm but tender skin of her ass, groaning and grunting as he took advantage of the green light she gave him to go as hard as he wanted. Each time he slammed his hips up into her, he basked in the visual of her plump ass cheeks rippling with each of his thrusts.

"Oh God." San exclaimed, one hand coming down to strike one of Y/N's cheeks, causing her to jolt forward in surprise, her stiff nipples rubbing against Wooyoung's shaft.

"Shit! San- be gentle with Noona." He whined, his eyes still focused on the silky sensation of Y/N's boobs hugging him.

"It's ok Wooyoung. I know Noona liked it. She likes it rough. Watch."

Raising his hand once more, it came back down to spank the same spot he had previously hit, a light pink hue starting to appear on her skin. Y/N tried and failed to contain a whimpered moan from her lips, spit dripping out and falling on Wooyoung's tip.

"Shit Noona, are you really into freaky shit?" He asked in astonishment.

"She's literally letting two younger guys fuck her tits and ass, how much more reassurance do you need?" San pointed out as he squeezed at her ass, riding her backside with more intensity.

"She's just a dirty kinky whore, allowing us to use her body this way. And then she's gonna let us cover her in our cum cause she's that slutty."

Y/N groaned at his words, her tongue poking out to lick at Wooyoung's slit each time it peeked out through the valley of her enormous tits.

"Fuck to paint Noona's tits with my cum-" Wooyoung hissed, teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

"You wanna do that for me? Cum on my big boobs baby boy?" She chuckled when she felt Wooyoung's cock twitch against her skin.

He couldn't answer her as another one of San's slaps along with his frenzied grinding thrusted her forward, making her and the boy below her exclaim in surprise.

"You're not cumming without me. You better hold it." San warned through gritted teeth, nails digging into her flesh as he violently rammed his cock between her fleshy and plump folds.

Y/N looked down at poor Wooyoung's face, looking so distraught as he fought hard not to cum right then and there. Leaning down, Y/N gave his tip a few kitten licks before resuming to squish her breasts on his length.

"It's ok Wooyoungie. San forgets his not in charge here. I am. So cum for me baby boy. Cum all over your Noona's tits." She softly said to him.

With shuddering whines and whimpers, Wooyoung threw his head back, eyebrows furrowed as thick streams of cum erupt from his tip, his orgasmic bliss so overwhelming, lasting longer due to Y/N continuing to rapidly push up and down his cock, milking him out of the last drop of cum he had left in his body.

"That's it. That's my good little boy, keep cumming just like that." She praised him, watching with excitement as his seed plastered itself on the top of her cleavage, some of it even splashing onto her cheeks and chin.

"That's so fucking hot- Oh my God-"

After watching the scene play out in front of him, San felt a familiar tightness in his balls, his tip starting to swell up. Before he could even register it, he was already pumping his own cum all over Y/N's ass and lower back, sputtering out incoherent words as he did so. He ended up collapsing on the couch, energy completed drained after all that, same as his friend who was still laying still on the other side. Meanwhile Y/N grabbed the box of tissues that was on the coffee table and pulled a few of them out so she could clean herself and the boys up. Starting with Wooyoung, she wiped in between his thighs, picking up the remainder of whatever was left of his cum before turning to San and cleaning up his body as well. Once both of the boys were cleaned up, she grabbed a couple more tissues to use on herself. She was distracted when she heard both of them start giggling out of nowhere.

"What's so funny?" She asked them, looking at San and then at Wooyoung, both of them donning a suspicious smile.

"So Noona does like younger men..."

[lily-drake]

Gifts

Any holiday or day where gifts were given was taken with utmost seriousness in the Wayne household.  Or in other words, it was a competition to one up each other’s gifts.  It all started when Jason came to the house and Dick had come back to visit for the holidays.  Marinette hadn’t really understood what was happening when she happily opened Dick’s present, which was a new knitting kit with so many different materials.  She ran over to him and hugged him tightly as Alfred took photos.  Dick had glanced over at Jason and smirked at him, but Jay-Jay only rolled his eyes with his arms crossed.  She still hadn’t opened his after all, and he was around her more now than Dick was, which meant he had a higher advantage of knowing her new interests and endeavors.  So he watched as she pulled out a thick book of fashion design and her own embroidery set.  Her eyes practically glowed as stared at the set.  Jason hadn’t even seen her move because next thing he knew strong arms were wrapped around him.  The 7-year-old had definitely been taught by Dick on how to hug people.

Bruce gazed lovingly at his children, but he knew about their competition, and he would not be outdone by his sons.

“Daddy, Daddy, look what Birdy and Jay-Jay gave me!  They’re so nice!  Feel the material Birdy got me, I can make so many things now!”

“That sounds amazing, Bluebell.”

Marinette smiled brightly as she showed Bruce the gifts that she got.

“Do you want to see what I got you?”

He asked amusedly.  Marinette began to hop on her toes in excitement, because daddy’s always had the best gifts!

“Yes please!”

Bruce smiled and pointed out a small, thin, rectangular box under the tree.  She leaped over to it and when she opened it her mouth dropped open and she squealed.

“You got me tickets to Sophie Theallet’s fashion show?!”

She was jumping with joy as she stared at the five tickets in her hand.  Bruce looked over at and smirked at the boys.  He won, again.  They groaned and sulked in annoyance.  Why did he always win?

________

Marinette was 9 when she finally figured out what her family was doing, and she knew that she would be the one to give the absolute best gifts to her family!  Her family deserved something super special, so she went to work.  Her Birdy was part of the circus and they had a lot of equipment he often used.  But what could she do that would be super special and make her win the competition?  Then it hit her, she knew exactly what she would do!  She would need to ask Alfred for help, but it would be worth it!

Next was Jay-Jay.  She didn’t know much about his past as he always told her that she had to wait till she was older, but she knew about him now.  Jay-Jay loved to read and would often read to her, he really liked hoodies and comfy things, and he liked to bake with Alfred and her.  So maybe…….yea!  She would do that, it shouldn’t be that hard to do.

Daddy always got her such nice gifts, how could she ever beat him?  There had to be something she could do to outdo him.  He was Batman, he worked with the Justice League, he loved all of them, and sometimes if he finished his work early would watch movies with them!  But he was always so good and knew exactly what to get.  She would try though, she had an idea and she hoped it would work.

Alfred, he deserved the best gift because of everything he did for them!  She already knew the perfect gift for her grandpa Alffie!

________

Christmas arrived and she stared out the window as the snowflakes fell onto the covered yard.  Maybe they could go sledding today, that would be so much fun!  She was so transfixed in the snow, and thinking of how pretty a dress would be with the same color and different designs, that she hadn’t noticed her brothers sneaking up on her.  A squeal left her lips as she was lifted into the air and twirled around wrapped in the warm embrace of her Birdy.  She giggled as he spun and squeaked as she was gently thrown into the air, only to land on the couch.

“Good morning Blueberry.”

Dick chirped happily.  She giggled again and leaned into Jay-Jay’s hand as he ruffled her hair.

“Morning Pixie-pop.  Sleep well?”

“Morning Birdy and Jay-Jay.  I slept great, thank you.  Did either of you?”

Jason shrugged with a small smirk,

“I slept fine, though I wouldn’t have minded sleeping a little longer.  You missed Dick’s hallway caroling this morning.”

“I sounded amazing, thank you very much.  And I was too excited to fully sleep.  I’m going to win this year.”

Dick said pridefully.

“No way, I’m totally going to beat you.”

Jason deffied puffing out his chest slightly.  Marinette giggled and called out,

“No, I’m going to beat all of you!  I will be the champion gift giver this year.”

They looked at her and smirked.

“Only in your dreams Pix.”

“You’ll see,”

She replied, crossing her arms and lifting her nose in the air like she had seen some of the people at the galas do.

“Then you’ll have to agree with me!”

They all gave each other sceptical looks before laughing and continued to talk until daddy came down.  When he finally did, the competition commenced.  The first person to open presents was her, obviously, as she was the youngest.  Dick had given her a really nice and fancy art kit, and she loved it!  Jay-Jay had given her tickets and backstage passes to the theater for The Nutcracker, she had been wanting to see it for a while now.  Alfred had told her that he would teach her how to make a super secret recipe, and she would be able to help him with dinner today too!  Daddy, he was too clever, too cunning.  He had given her a pet hamster, and it was beautiful!  She couldn’t beat him now, her gift was nothing compared to-to this!  She tries though, and maybe she could win second?  Yea, she would be ok with second, if she got this adorable baby creature.  She couldn’t even be mad or disappointed, because look at its cute little feet and adorable eyes!

Next was Jay-Jay.  The others had given him some really nice things, but she felt that hers was the best!  So when he opened it and his eyes shined, she knew she made the right thing!  It had taken her hours to find it, and she had to ask Dad if she could get it since she wasn’t allowed to use the card without permission.  It was one of the first books of Pride and Prejudice ever published, she even got him a fancy ink and quill set so he could better embrace his Harry Potter nerdom.

“This is amazing, thank you Pixie, I guess I do owe you an apology, this is amazing.”

She smiled up at him while gently petting the top of her new hamster's head as it laid on her lap.

“Told you!”

For Dick she had knitted him a collection of stuffed animals that he talked about from the circus.  Alfred had helped her find the material and helped her when she made a mistake or needed help on a particularly tricky part.  She thought she saw Dick’s eyes water for a second.  The next thing she knew she was being tightly hugged, but he left enough room to not squish her furry child.

“Thank you Blueberry, it’s amazing.”

“Of course it is, I made them!”

He chuckled as he pulled away and ruffled her already messed up hair.

She had made Daddy a picture book and had decorated it with black and yellow glitter, bats, and different birds.  Throughout the book were all of the pictures that she was able to get her hands on dated and labeled in order from oldest photo to most recent.  He had a soft smile as he looked through the book and when he finally looked back up to his slightly nervous daughter he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.

“I think you won this year.”

“Nuh ah!  You gave me a hamster!  There’s no way I could have won!”

“Well, I think all the others would agree that you thought of and made some very amazing gifts.”

She turned to look at the others as they gave gentle nods and thumbs up.  Her cheeks felt really warm and she smiled at them all.

“Thank you.  Now Grandpa Alffie needs to open his presents!”

Alfred smiled at the small child and opened the gifts he had received from the others.  Marinette had made and embroidered a new handkerchief for him.  He seemed to like it as he immediately placed it in his pocket.  She was the victor of this year's Christmas gift exchange, but she still felt that Daddy beat her.

________

As years passed and her family grew so did the competition.  Sadly, it would be harder to her her family their most desired gifts as she had decided to study abroad in Paris that year, but she would be da*ed if she didn’t try her hardest.  She had gotten better with her skills for making things over the years, and so much had happened.  Jason had died and come back, that was the hardest time of her life.  They had new people adopted into the family, and she even had a little brother!  She was going to meet him this year when she went to visit for the winter break.  She would have the glasses with her at all times in case there was an attack so she could quickly come back here and take care of it.

When she arrived at the Gotham Airport and saw her large family standing and holding a sign as they looked for her she ran up to them as quickly as she could.

“Pixie!”

Jason called out, catching the small girl and twirling her around.  She laughed and when she was put down created the rest of her family just as happily.  When she finally came face to face with her little brother she held out her hand.  Her family said he was more formal and was very against physical touch that he did not agree to or initiate.  He eyed her hand suspiciously before shaking it and giving her a nod.

“Damian Al Ghul-Wayne.”

“Marinette Wayne.  It’s nice to finally meet you Damian.”

They both let go after a firm shake.  She already had a gift for him, and Kagami helped her find the perfect one.  It was a nice blade, the blade was completely black, but had a red tint to it and red gains that delicately ran through it.  The hilt was of fine golden metal and a strong leather grip.  She had made the sheath for the blade.  With strong leather and an inner layer of Kevlar so the sword would be protected.  She had carved in Arabic symbols to spell out “Son of Bat” and had sewn a few almost unnoticeable small robins along the bottom and top of the inky black material.

For Tim, she had gotten him the best coffee beans in all of Paris and she had made him new lounge clothes that identified with his hero persona of Red Robin that had many hidden pockets and two large to-go coffee cups, one on each sleeve.

For Jason she had made him a new leather Jacket with book quotes embroidered all over the inside of the inner material.  There were lots of different pockets, and a few tailor made to fit his guns.  She had put a few Jagged Stone concert tickets in one of the pockets too.

For Stephanie, she had made purple silk pajamas that had waffles all over it.  She had even made sure that there was a hood connected to the pj shirt.

For Cass, just like Jason had done for her, gotten tickets for The Nutcracker.  She had also gotten her ballerina shoes, the best one and most highly recommended ones from the Paris Ballet.

For Dick she had made him an elephant onesie.  Why you may ask, well because for her birthday he had given her a mouse one.  So was it spite for being called short, or was it her trying to match, nobody needs to know.

She had made Alfred a new apron with the words “Don’t try anything, I already know.”  Neatly sewed in cursive into it.

She had gotten Babs a new eskrima stick infused with a bit of her luck in it so no one would underestimate her in battle as she would always have luck on her side giving her the upper hand.  She may be disabled, but that doesn’t stop her from kicking butt.

Finally, her gift for her dad.  This one was hard, because she wasn’t around to know what had caught his eye this year, and her siblings refused to tell her.  It was fine though, because she would figure it out.  And she did, or at least she had tried.  She ended up making him a bee suit jacket with everybody’s names sewed into the inner lining, multiple pockets for convenience, and black bats that would only be shown in the right lighting.  She would win this year, she would!  Sadly, Dick had won last year, but she would regain her crown again this year!  She would be the best gift giver of her whole family!!!

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess

[pitaparka]

when you sleep with him for the first time headcanons

note—it gets a little suggestive during oberyn's part, but nothing too crazy. i use sleep here in it's purest form by the way, so enjoy! let me know if you have any ideas for the next one! me and the boys are open to suggestions ;)

MANDO

- mando has always allowed you his bunk to sleep, whenever you like

- when you stayed with him on the razor crest and watched the kid, he was always more than willing to give it up anytime you needed sleep

- he didn't sleep much anyway, and usually your sleeping schedules didn't overlap

- but boba fett's ship doesn't have much space to begin with, let alone enough space for all of the crew mates he's happened to find recently

- which mean's you and mando, having already been living together and already know each other, were sleeping together, in the same small bunk, at the same time

- he offered to sleep on the floor, or pressed up against the wall

- but you got mad at him for even suggesting such a thing

- there was more than enough space for the two of you to sleep, you argued, though there was barely enough room for one

- it was comical, trying to press up against him, and find a spot comfortable enough for the both of you to lay

- it was jarring to you when he removed a single pauldron for you to rest your head on his clothed shoulder

- you felt like you had violated him in some way, seeing him just the lightest bit more bare than usual

- though you were slightly uncomfortable from the rest of the beskar pressing up into your body, you were lulled to sleep in minutes from the sound of his steady heartbeat

EZRA

- the cots had never been a long term solution

- that you knew

- so when the morning comes around, and your cot drops your ass on the floor, you wish you gotten new sleeping arrangements the last time you were in town

- you were just wishing it had taken longer for them to fall apart the way they had

- there wasn't much on the green, in terms of furnishing markets

- the cots had been the only barrier between you and the floor, and now, there was nothing protecting you from the frigid, uninsulated ground of your broken down ship

- it was ezra who offered up the idea: put one blanket down on the floor, and use the other one to cover the both of you with

- you took a second to ponder it, thinking of any idea, any reason that could be used to save you from having to sleep next to ezra, the man who had been so warm and kind to you, but you had frozen him out, because of your ridiculous crush on him

- you offered up the idea of just disassembling the cots and using the cloths as protection from the cold

- but this wiseass pulls out the cloth from the cot and his blanket and compares the two, and there's no way the cloth is going to have any integrity making contact with the ground

- so you agree, and when nightfall comes, you're too exhausted from harvesting all day to fight with him

- he puts his blanket down as protection, and you all but collapse on top of in

- ezra does you the service of tucking you in, before climbing in next to you, and you're soothed by his warmth

- not soothed enough that you fall asleep immediately, still unnerved by the idea of sleeping so close to him, hearing him breathe, feeling him move

- but he throws his good arm over your body and pulls you into him, muttering something about the cold

- and your heart melts just a little bit as you fall asleep, pressed up against his chest

FRANKIE

- frankie had been upset for weeks after his divorce, which was to be expected

- but everything had been so stressful on him, and you were getting worried for his mental health

- he hadn't been answering calls, he'd cancelled plans with you last minute, which is something he never did, and he hadn't been doing anything for himself, just living in a rut of paperwork, sleeping, eating, and going to work

- so when he calls you up to ask you to go camping with him, you obviously say yes

- it's almost a two hour drive to the campsite, and frankie is fairly quite, which isn't usual, but you get some good music going and some good conversation going, and soon enough, you and frankie are laughing and singing your heads off on your way there

- it's getting dark when you arrive, and you make quick work of getting everything out of his car when he realizes something is off

- "oh no" he exclaims, and you fear the worst

- "what? what's wrong?"

- "I brought the small tent."

- "how small is the small tent?"

- "i brought the four-person tent, not the ten person tent."

- "are you kidding frankie? i'm sure we'll fit in a four-person—“

- "i'm telling you, it's not as big as you think it is, trust me."

- when the tent is complete, four-person is an exaggeration

- it's a four-person tent if the four-people were sardine packed and the size of children

- it's going to be just enough room for both you and frankie to lie down in with your sleeping bags

- but that's for a later time, because frankie has marshmallows to roast and lots of things to tell you after he's been ignoring you for a whole week

- he apologizes and you sit next to him at the firepit on your site, and you listen to him talk, and give him advice, and rest your head on his shoulder

- and when it's late into the night and you two go to retreat to bed, you have to squish up against his broad shoulders that seem so much broader in the small tent

- and when he wakes with nightmares of his fighting buddies and far too many sleepless nights, he pulls you close to him, and falls asleep again, until the sunlight streams through the front flap of the tent far too early in the morning

WHISKEY

- that day’s mission was harsh

- it had you spent, not only physically, but mentally as well

- as you lie awake in your bed, you realize you’re not getting to sleep tonight, whether or not you had another important mission that morning

- the hotel bed was creaky and entirely not your bed from home and the air conditioner was broken so it was freezing

- you figure there’s no better time than the present, and you’re well aware whiskey is right next door

- if he’s awake, you’ll ask him to have a drink with you, and if he’s asleep, you can just hop into bed with him

- he’s a deep sleeper anyway

- you’re careful turning the knob into his room, just in case he’s asleep, and you spot him in his bed, on his side, breathing softly, room cloaked in darkness

- you come around on his side of the bed and you whisper his name

- he stirs a little

- you debate going back to your room and just toughing it out, but he doesn’t give you the chance

- he’s up, groggy and hair tousled and in just a plain t-shirt

- “sweetheart? what are you doin’ here? what’s goin’ on?”

- you tell him you didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, and he wipes the sleep from his eyes and squints at you, using only the moonlight to help him see

- “what kind of gentleman would i be if i refused you my bed?”

- this makes you smile, and he lifts the covers for you to get in with him

- you plant your head on his shoulder and drape an arm over his chest, cozying up to him as close as possible

- his hand rests comfortably on your back, and he breathes rhythmically

- and you’re silently grateful he doesn’t ask questions, just lets you curl up into his side ands lets you fall asleep with him there

JAVIER PEÑA

- it happened in a flurry of passion and kisses, hands roaming his body and yours after a far too close dance with death

- if it had not been for his bulletproof vest, he'd be lying in a hospital or a morgue

- but he wasn't

- his body was warm and so was yours and the ride to his apartment was far too quiet for your liking and his

- it was only appropriate you accompanied him for a drink after such a great victory for the DEA, but it had taken a toll on both of you, mentally

- you more so than him, which is why you ended up drinking much more than you normally would have when you drank with javi

- he tried to laugh away the stress, complaining about his sore and bruised ribs, but the room was still tense

- emotions ran rampant through your body, and when he brings it up, tears start to pool in your eyes at the thought seeing him for the last time, in a suit, at his own funeral he wouldn't attend if he had the choice

- he sets his drink down and pulls you into his arms, holding your waist and cupping the back of your neck, stroking behind your ear as he listens to you cry softly in his shoulder

- he reassures you he's fine, nothing happened to him, and you pull away from him, grab his face, and stare into his eyes

- he smiles kindly at your own red ringed eyes, irritated from crying, as you try to memorize each streak of brown in his own

- it's too much for the both of you, and you pull him into a kiss

- his mouth is surprisingly soft compared to your own drunk passion, and as much as he'd love to take you right then and there on his couch, he knows he'd regret it if you woke up the next morning and regretted it too

- so he entertains the kiss, not that he minds, and leads you to his bedroom

- where the silk sheets and heavy comforter that smell so strongly of javier peña pull you to sleep next to him, faster than you'd like to admit

MARCUS MORENO

- missy and your daughter had always gotten along very well

- you were very familiar with marcus, and could even call yourselves friends to an extent

- your daughters were very intelligent little girls, and knew that if they got the two of you talking when you came to pick your daughter from his house, they would have at least another hour to play while you two chatted endlessly about boring adult things

- for missy's birthday party, she had wanted all of her friends over for a huge sleepover, and of course her father caved

- he couldn't say no to her no matter how much he tried

- marcus, the genius he was, figured that if the kids were all under one roof having fun, why not let the adults have fun too?

- everyone was invited

- the kids would have lots of different fun activities to choose from, from swimming, to games in the backyard, and a movie night under the stars outside

- and the adults were welcome to stay, chat, drink, and play adult card games marcus had saved for special occasions

- the night of the sleepover, a dozen children and adults were packed into his backyard, watching some new movie he had rented the missy was excited about

- but it was freezing, and you hadn't expected to be outside for so long

- marcus realizes this and he leans over quietly, so not to disturb the movie

- "are you cold?"

- "oh! no, it's okay, i'll be fine—“ you try to excuse yourself, but he gets up without a word, and returns with a sweatshirt of his

- it fits snugly over your head, and completely eliminated the chill in your bones

- it doesn't take long for your eyes to start getting heavy, and soon enough, you're passed out on marcus' shoulder

- "what if we camp out here for the night?" he suggests, and the kids are more than excited

- the adults know what he's up to

- but they let him anyway

- it'll be great to tease him about later, and besides, you guys are adorable together

MARCUS PIKE

- working together with marcus was always a joy

- he was always very respectful and funny

- you knew he had his heart broken more than once in the past, so even though you dropped hints that you'd want something more with marcus, you let him take it at his own pace

- when you dropped by his place that night, with important new documents you had received right before you left work and chinese food, you're ecstatic when he lets you in

- you spend hours pouring over the documents, making sure every single detail was covered and examined, when you realize how tired you are, and how loud the rain is coming down outside his window

- "it's getting really late. i should leave," you say, but marcus stops you

- "you could always, y'know, stay the night if you wanted. i'd let you have my bed."

- you smiled at him, but politely decline, as you wouldn't want to kick him out of his bed, but you yawn again

- "look, you're exhausted, and it's pouring" he points out, "you know most accidents happen by people falling asleep behind the wheel when it's raining?"

- you laugh at him

- "you just made that up,"

- "i did, but you should stay. if you don't want to i totally understand, but you'd be missing out. my bed is really comfortable."

- "is that why you're always late to work?" you quip, and close the files

- he gasps in mock shock

- "that was one time, and my alarm didn't go off," he claims, smiling at you

- he lends you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and you pretend to not see a slight blush on his face when you walk out into his bedroom with them on

- marcus was right when he said his bed was really comfortable

- somehow, in the middle of the night, you two find each other, his face pressed into your shoulder, your arms wrapped around him, and the rain comes down even harder

MAX PHILLIPS

- "i just need some space from him, is all."

- that's all you had to tell him for max phillips to be on your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that all men suck anyway, you didn't need that jerk of a boyfriend to be happy

- well, now ex-boyfriend

- of course he had ulterior motives, and you knew this, but you didn’t care

- your heart wanted someone to watch movies with and eat a pint of ice cream out of the tub with you, and if max was the one who would do that, you’d settle with him for the night

- the way he pulled you into his arms, and pressed his body up against yours, was more than comforting

- he made funny jokes, tried tickling you, anything he could think of to get you to smile for him

- and for the most part, you did

- you were sick of your ex bringing the mood down the way he did, no matter how much you missed him

- the movie has gotten boring a long time ago, but you listened to max’s breathing, and felt his chest rise and fall behind you, and it was enough to lull you to sleep

- and he would’ve woken you up, to take you to his bed, but he was scared you’d leave to go home if he did

- so he took his couch throw, pulled it over the two of you, turned off the television, and settled back as you got comfortable on his chest

- this was a side of max phillips you’d never seen before, and you didn’t expect to see any time soon

- so you relished in it, and let sleep pull you in

MAXWELL LORD

- his head aches, and his eye is still bleeding on the plane back to washington d.c.

- the ride back is silent, save for the rumbling of the engine

- he rests his head against the wall of the airplane for most of the ride there, and you take comfort in knowing while he’s asleep, he’s not in pain

- when he starts getting restless, having what you think is a nightmare, you start holding his hand, stroking your thumb up and down his soft skin

- it takes him a minute, but he calms down, and you don’t let go of his hand

- with nothing to do but watch him sleep, you decide taking a nap too would be your best option

- which is when the plane hits a particularly rough patch of turbulence

- he bounces awake, nervous and alert, and you tell him it’s just the plane, everything’s fine

- when you pull him into your shoulder, he takes the opportunity to fall back asleep

- you can feel the tension in his neck just by having him rest his head on your shoulder

- you keep a firm grip on his hand, when your own eyes start to get heavy

- your head rests on his, and the rest of the ride there is smooth and painless

OBERYN MARTELL

- he had been pursuing you for quite some time

- as the second son of a king, he was more than accustomed to people saying yes to appease him

- he was forward with you, and you were forward back with him, and he liked that

- it was your words that told him you weren't looking for anything long term, that if he were to pleasure you, and you him, he would be nothing more than a simple one night stand

- boy did he prove you wrong

- your legs were so weak afterward, you couldn't bare to get up

- he took incredibly good care of you, squeezing your sore thighs and rubbing your aching muscles, pressing kisses up and down your back, brushing the hair out of your face

- it only increased your attraction to him when he brought in more people, caring for them and having them care for you, and by the time you had finished, you felt as though you couldn't physically go another round that night

- he purred in your ear that every night with him would be a night like this, and you whined back, making him grin and capture your mouth in a passionate kiss

- you didn't mean to fall sleep with him, but all the nibbling bites at your ear and the serotonin coursing through your veins had you spent for the night

- he let you sleep, and even stayed for a while before being summoned for an important meeting

- you made a mental note that eventually, you two would need to do that again, because you slept like a baby the whole night through

PERO TOVAR

- it's below freezing when you settle down for sleep that night

- no matter how much wind the tent tried to keep out, it just wasn't enough

- you're bundled up in all the clothes you had brought with you, the only blanket that could be spared, anything that could try to keep you warm, but nothing’s working

- the cold just bleeds through the blanket and your clothes, into your legs and chest and bones so that you can’t fall asleep if you tried

- you figure the only way you’ll be able to get any rest to be ready for the next day, is to go find a warmer place to sleep

- if the fire’s still going, you’ll rest there

- you shiver as you pick up your things, but your interrupted by tovar, who comes in with a thick fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders

- “where are you going?”

- “i was just going to sleep next to the fire,” you say, trying to keep the chill out of your voice

- “it’s going to be cold tonight. lay down.” he instructs, and you oblige

- he lays the blanket down over you and climbs underneath it next to you, so that your shoulders touch and watch him for a second before he turns over and tries to go to sleep without a word

- you pull the blanket up to your shoulders and you feel ten times warmer already, but it’s the heat from tovar that really entices you

- so you push back against him, your back against his, and fall asleep with the warmth of his muscles against yours