#these three have soo much history together GOD

[realtapiocafan]

CJ, Bryce, and Jayden trained with each other!

ACK they've known each other since they were kids! going from training together to competing against each other, but always cheering for each other!

Jayden Daniels explains his pre-draft workouts with Bryce Young, CJ Stroud

youtube.com/watch?v=NRBe943S7aw

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I have a small draft of an Gravity Falls/The Owl House au where Eda and Stan bond while trying to find a way to divorce without making the autorities aware of their location and decide to became a two people (later three for Raine reasons)/two realms rock band.

Featuring:

- Stan being way too unafected by the weirdness of the Demon Realm.

- Raine Whispers failing their task of remaining only friends with their ex after joining her band and instead getting back together (she opens up about her curse and now they just can't find a reason not to). [Look Raine fully got involved because a) Raeda is my OTP and more importantly b) Stan is just a really good wingman]

- Fiddleford complicated journey where he abandons his wife (and lowkey his son) for a scientist; does not tell the people involved (including the scientist); gets friendzone because of a triangle; gets a crush on a rockstar; does not question the fact the rockstar looks like mullet Ford sans glasses until he introduces his favorite band to his partner/bff/guy who chose a triangle over him; discovers Pines Twin drama

- Stan tries to sing a "hey we could be best brothers again it was an accident and I'm sorry" ballad but Ford is too distracted by the fact Stan bandmates are witches.

- Ford in the Demon Realm. Ford in the Demon Realm. Ford is living his autistc dreams in the Demon Realm. Ford has glyths now look out. Ford in the Demon Realm.

- Bill in the Demon Realm. He is pissing off a bigot and being a bad influence to an infant god. Do I hear a hurray?

- Please please please see my vision of Bill babysitting Enzo Gabriel... I mean The Collector.

- Baby King enters the picture at some point.

- Hooty meeting Bill. (Also at some point Hooty HAS to met Soos, I can not explain why this is important to me but it is).

- Sibbling drama featuring Lilith and Eda and Stan and Ford.

- Raeda wingmans Fiddlestan.

- The Collector accidentaly wingmans Billford somehow.

- At some point in history the band devolves from a hit band to a footnote on the history of indie rock 80's bands (basically they just hit BIG in the Demon Realm and end up negleting the human realm) and everyone forgets it until the day ten year old Luz Noceda creates her first AMV using one of their songs and decides that's her favorite band ever.

- Dipper is also a fan. Mabel isn't exactaly a fan as much as she love like one specific song and also thinks 90's Raine is cute.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

*Cackling* Now rank your ot3's!

*long sigh*

SECTION 1:

Yes, there are sections, this is a list of 20 things. I like to be organized. These ones I seek out. I like them. I actively enjoy them on purpose.

1. Roloceit: My BOYS. Are these my 3 favorites? perhaps. You can't prove anything (you sure can, just look at my goddamn Ao3). Something about the dynamics here is just...so good for me? The combination of fluff/angst/multi-talented braincells is wonderful. I need these three to watch a documentary and tear it to absolute pieces. Also they would be so good at...actually having methods of supporting each other??? I love them.

2. Analogince: in the same vein, the SNARK. THE SASS. THE GROUPCHAT THAT WE ALL KNOW EXISTS THAT IS SOO OVERLOADED WITH SALT THAT IT'S A DEHYDRATION RISK. Also healthy communication??? supportive signifs??? good shit

3. Anxcietmus: The Dark Sides™. Again, I think these three just get each other. That means great fluff and great angst possibilities ABOUND and especially when it comes to being a menace in the rest of the mindscape. Yes. Good. Have fun.

4. Intruloceit: Someone please make this nerd take a fucking break for once. The chaos of leading what you THINK is a stuck-up buttoned-up nerd only to feel such an odd mixture of pride and mortal terror at discovering a TRUE mad scientist. Yes. Logan deserves to go ape-shit. Let him.

5. Analoceit: Did someone ask for some amused gay judgement? You got the whole scale here, Distinguished, Functional, and Disaster. They don't need the group chat because they can do it with just a look. Perfect. Wonderful.

6. Intruloxiety: slightly less snark, which is why it's ranked lower, but I don't think it would be any less supportive. Between the three of them I think they'd have a conversation about boundaries right up front and constantly be checking in with each other. Which is good!! Please do this!!

7. Loroyality (am i making up some of these names as I go? yes): The Light Sides™! The reason this is ranked lower is because I think they've got some in-canon struggles that would take some time and effort (from errybody) to sort out before I would consider this relationship healthy, but after that? Forget it. We vomiting sushine and rainbows and our teeth hurt from how sweet they are. I have faith in them.

8. Royaliceit: *sniff sniff* did someone say ANGST??? This is the only one I put up here that I mainly look for to get angst because BOY HOWDY. Especially post-POF? Roman you poor thing why do I project so strongly onto you, my god. This is a MESS and they need to do WORK to FIX IT but it's all about the misunderstanding and the healing and oh my god please someone tell Roman his worth is not based on how well his work is received please. Also if you're like me and you subscribe to the headcanon that the last time Patton and Janus agreed on something it was to stay in the closet as long as possible...*choo choo bitches angst town here we come*

SECTION 2:

These ones I don't actively seek out but you know?? For a headcanon post? They seem pretty chill. Haven't devoted a lot of brainpower to 'em, just think they're neat.

9. Moloceit (my keyboard is so confused you guys): Now THIS. THIS is the obnoxious trio of philosophy majors that ALWAYS hog the good library table. Someone will say ONE GODDAMN thing and they'll be talking about ontology and subjectivity for hours. It's impossible to tell whether or not they're being serious when they do it. As a most-definitely-not-a-philosophy-student, no. I mean, yes but no.

10. Anaroceit: you know those fucking divas that strut into the mall like they own the goddamn place? These bastards. They are the Heathers (except actually decent people) and you will not get between them and their purchases. If you come after one of them the other will overprotective the fuck out of them and rip you to shreds. You might be worried sometimes that they're hurting each other but they do actually talk about their boundaries. solid 7/10.

11. Analogicality: (whoa, we're halfway there...): These three just seem like they'd be super domestic. Not that it wouldn't also be adorable, but just kinda...routine? Virgil doesn't like new shit, Logan likes a schedule, and Patton enjoys doing things together in 'traditions.' Some spice but they're all fairly level-headed so...the most they get is screaming out songs with the windows down (WHOA LIVIN' ON A PRAYER)

12: Intrulogicality: You know those scenarios where you got Person A who runs headlong into crazy bullshit, Person B who likes to pretend they're not as into the crazy bullshit as Person A but is, and Person C who gets dragged into shit? There you go.

13: Anxmoceit: I think once they all sat down and had a conversation they might actually be decent??? But I can't stop seeing Patton and Janus coparenting Virgil so it stays platonic in my head. (listen i don't kinkshame but i am aroace, that does limit me a bit when it comes to this bag of nonsense)

14. Intrumoceit: Again, LONG conversation, but it's better to have one crazy dumbass whom you both love but please stop giving up heart attacks every two seconds bb we can't deal with these palpitations. I think this would require SO much work on Patton's end to make this healthy that I can't see it very clearly.

15. Intrumoxiety: This one I put down here because while Janus isn't the best at being straightforward (or straight) he DOES understand himself enough to actually have a productive conversation when he has to. I think Virgil would be too caught up between the dynamic of Patton and Remus for it to be healthy for him, especially at the beginning. It would end up dumping too much of the conflict resolution into his court and uh...no. No thanks. Do I think they COULD make it work? Yes, of course, but I wouldn't seek it out.

16. Anaroyality: Uhhh yeah they exist. Y'all gotta do some work to establish good boundaries but yeah, I think you could do it. Have a makeup day where everybody just fucks shit UP at a Sephora or an Ulta and try crazy looks on each other. You could do it. I believe in you.

SECTION 3:

These are the ones I will actively avoid, more often than not. If they're not handled carefully--which is not the responsibility of other creators, I take full blame, this is just how I personally interpret them--they can squick me out. The ones with Roman and Remus are down here, and as a disclaimer, this isn't because I view poly relationships where not all parties are dating each other as inherently inferior, not at all. I just think that within a relationship where both Roman and Remus are dating the same person, that has the potential to go REAL bad REAL quick.

17. Intrulogince: Do I want to see Roman and Remus playfully competing to win the favor of our favorite nerd? yes. Do I think it would end up aggravating the rivalry they already had to really bad places? Also yes. Either with Roman backing off and internalizing the idea that he's not good enough or by exploding on both of them. It's a bad time. No. That being said, I have seen things where Logan is just spoiled by incredible things made in the Imagination and those are very sweet. a good time.

18. Intruprinxiety (that looks so weird when it's spelled out, oh my god it sounded so much better in my head): Again, exacerbating a pre-existing rivalry, oh dear me, and this time poor Virgil's caught in the middle? a mess. There is also the potential for them to be childhood friends to lovers which would be very sweet but the overlap with all of their combined histories are...a lot of baggage. Like so much.

19. Intruroceit: The only way I can see this happening is Roman's inadequacy issues and abandonment issues going THROUGH THE FUCKING ROOF and it would force Remus into being a pseudo-therapist for them and Janus your habit of messing with Roman needs to gtfo right the fuck now.

20. Intruroyality: is anyone surprised that this one is my least favorite? Between the squicks I get from Patton as a character, the relationship between Patton and both of the twins in canon, and how much baggage Roman and Remus have...no. Absolutely not. I have horrible memories of some very toxic relationships that I can absolutely see here and no.

*phew* that was a long one. you're welcome.

EDIT: thank you @shinekittenace for names seriously this post is a mess

[friesian]

2, 4, 9, 14 + 15 for the gw2 asks!! (- @astralarias)

HEY CHAR!! nice to see u!!! 2. What race and profession was the first character you made? Do you still play them?

it was marwyd i think. i made my account in late march but sat on my hands until my wife made an account with me LOL. so it's sylvari engineer. he is literally my everything and i play him as much as i can (he's also my main so. scrapper life 4ever!!!!!!)

4. Do you have a favourite playable race?

holds up my NEARLY ALL SYLVARI ROSTER. uhm. nooooooooooooo ;)

yeah its sylvari no breaks. i first played marwyd and was like "these little dudes are kinda funky???" and sorta shrugged it off. i got to the end of the personal story and was like; "OK. these dudes are cool. goddamn."

THEN I PLAYED HEART OF THORNS. we all know how it went from there.

either way im DEEPLY in love with them as a race concept. i'm also a sylvari in real life soooo maybe i'm biased.

9. Do you remember any specific times when the game made you go “oh shit” in a good way?

coming from world of warcraft, i wasn't sure if i was even gonna be ABLE to fight the big bads. most of the big bads in warcraft are locked behind big raids/group content and i just HONESTLY do not like doing it as it gives me massive anxiety. plus i was so new to the game that i knew anything i did was probably gonna be wrong.

doing heart of thorns i was like "I WANT TO KICK MORDREMOTH'S ASS. I NEED TO KICK HIS ASS NOW!!!!" and i wasn't even sure if i was gonna have the opportunity to. however once i did the final instance and got near the end and it plopped me down in front of him, that MUSIC started playing, and i realized i got to have a 1 on 1 with this motherfucker. well it was history from there, LMAO.

14. Favourite NPC who has been a companion of the Commander?

cue me shoving all my canach art and writing and all my posts under the couch

it's canach. it's always been canach. my fucking god. my wife did heart of thorns before me and was like "hey i think you may like this canach guy" she said to me once while we were cooking together. i said; "oh maybe i'll have to see what he's like."

IDIOT. BUFFOON. ABSOLUTE FOOL. she read me like a fucking book and now my mind is infested with a egomaniac cactus. i love him for it though, by god.

15. Favourite antagonist?

THIS IS A TOUGHIE. i'm between mordremoth because of the story relevance to sylvari and kralkatorrik because of the history and complexities with him in general, espsecially with soo-won. also if my url wasn't a dead give away. i am a fan.

i'm going to lean more towards kralk. i really love the added lore we get with the legendary weapons and talking to soo-won after dragon's end fights. something about an old man who just lost himself in the inevitability of rage and madness of his family gets me something stupid.

big runner up is mordremoth, then probably (if we want to get really deep) canach since he DID oppose you at one point. these are my three besties :)

[theoldestsportsy]

Some Henry and Jack lore !!

(I wrote this last night as I was bored, but please keep in mind that like I said, it was overnight, so I was a bit/very fuckin' tired!! Please also know that there might be some gruesome topics and swearing!) Henry stood in front of his orange-colored companion, and father figure, Jack. He was repairing his suit for him, though the silence in the room bothered Henry quite a bit, so he decided to try and strike up a conversation, "Jack?" the magenta man spoke. "What is it now, Henry?" Jack said aloud, sounding a bit impatient with Henry. "I- I hear you mumbling things about your family sometimes.. what's with that..?" Henry said, knowing Jack wouldn't take too kindly to this topic, but he had to come out about it eventually. "..." Jack stayed silent for a moment before letting the wrench in his hand go, placing it aside. "..Jack?" Henry asked, breaking the silence once again. "Fine, if you really want to know, Henry.." Jack spoke again, frustrated, wondering why Henry was so intrigued in his families history. Henry's strange grimace turned into a slight grin. "It all started when the three of my siblings, Dee, Peter and I were born. Only about seven or so years later, our parents unfortunately passed-" Jack was about to continue, until Henry interrupted, "Oh I- I'm so sorry, Jack." "There is no need to apologize, Henry. It wasn't your fault, after all. Any how, because of this, I had gotten myself a job, while, of course, Peter watched after our youngest sister, Dee." Jack stopped for a moment to let Henry process and figure out his opinion on this. "Aww, how sweet, you all worked together like an actual family!" Henry's grin widened. "Don't get so cocky, Henry, for this story doesn't have such a "happy ending"." Jack stated, ruining Henry's happiness. "One day, Peter brought Dee with him to the diner, wanting to show her our high quality animatronic suits and all. It all went pretty well until they both sat down, moments later Dee had seemed to have wandered off the moment Peter took his eyes off of her. Somehow she'd found her way over to the security office, for some random reason she wanted to go inside the office. Upon entering, the door malfunctioned, tragically slamming down right on top of her. When we found her, it was already too late, her frontal lobe and parts of her brain were smashed into her skull." Jack stopped once again, wanting to see or hear Henry's reaction, though Henry stayed silent, either dazed or too shocked to speak. "Hen?" Jack spoke out Henry's nickname. Henry quickly blinked, "O-Oh god, I-" it seems he was correct, he WAS very shocked, although he didn't get much enjoyment out of his reaction, Jack continued. "Peter and I were devastated, Peter, not knowing what to do with his miserable life now, got a job at the diner. Shortly after another tragedy had happened, Peter had a springlock failure and died later in the hospital." Jack waited yet again. Henry seemed to have a large frown on his face, "Oh, wow.. I- Jack.. how do you live with your knowing-.." Henry stopped himself, not wanting to upset Jack. "Anything else, Henry?" Jack questioned him. "Well, what if- I took your brother Peter's name? I could try and replace him, it'd be like he never died, and!-" Henry rambled off until Jack stopped him, "NO." Jack demanded, Henry took a step back from the sudden aggressiveness. "I- I'm sorry, Jack, but.." Jack just glared, "Please, don't ya miss him? I can be there for you just like him, except I won't die!-" Jack groaned, not liking Henry's rambling, complaining and whining, "fine, FINE! You may take the families last name." He knew he'd regret this decision, but he just wanted Henry to shut the fuck up. Henry's frown seemed to turn somewhat upside down, he glowed up and proceeded to hug Jack tightly, "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU SOO MUCH!" Henry exclaimed, Jack just pushed him away and tried to play it cool, "No problem, Henry Kennedy."

[sylvermidnight]

An in depth look at HWS New Zealand

Name: Mikaere (Meaning godlike or one who is like god)

English Given Name: Howard (Howie) Kirkland

Human Age: 18

National Age: 180+

Gender: Non-binary (He/They)

Sexuality: Bisexual

General Appearance: Howie is around 5′5, they’re slight in stature but they can be big in presence. He is Māori, so his skin is a more warm brown than most of his “siblings” He somehow managed to inherit Arthur’s green eyes, something he regrets more than anything about his appearance. His hair falls in thick soft curls around his face, normally tucked back behind his ears. His face and body are splattered with freckles that get just a little bit more prominent when he’s been out in the sun for long periods of time. He has a large tattoo on his back, taking up most of it, and even dipping out across his hips and waist. The second tattoo is a band around his left arm. He also has a large scar running the length of his torso, and a smaller one cutting under his right rib. Aside from those he has many tiny ones across his hands and legs that heal up quickly from stupid stunts. He has a tongue piercing but he doesn’t always leave it in. He tends to fidget with it when he does. 

As for clothes he can be found on one of two extremes. Cottagecore or punk. He is fond of his soft sweaters and work boots. But he also can be seen sporting leather jackets and spikes. It all depends on the mood of the day. But he does typically give off an approachable vibe either way.

General Personality: They’re not exactly a quiet type for sure. They’re outspoken about their needs, wants, and opinions. He’s both a lover and a fighter. Taking care of his siblings when he can, but not hesitating to go to bat for them in a fight. Howie loves children and is always willing to babysit if another nation needs it. He’s a goofball at times, and pulls stupid stunts that can land him hurt or in trouble. He’s one of a few of the anglosphere children to yell in Arthur’s face, in some ways taking after Alfred.

Considered Family List:

Arthur Kirkland (England)

Jett Kirkland (Australia)

Alfred Jones (America)

Matthew Williams (Canada)

Jia Long (Hong Kong)

Ireland

Scotland

Tā moko:

The Manaia rests in the center of his back, surrounded by intricate patterns that somewhat tell his life story.

The Manaia represents the connection to the spirit world and the mortal, and is said to ward off evil. Howie got it right before leaving to fight in WW1 thinking it would protect him, and wanting to bring pride to his culture and home.

On his upper left arm rests the Pakati pattern in a thick band.

This marks them as a warrior and he got it before leaving for WW2. Older now, and independent he believed it was time to take that title as he had been involved with many conflicts leading up to this.

History and timeline:

The New Zealand Wars

Mikaere was born sometime before the coming conflict. Whom he was raised by up until that point is unknown. They do not remember them, and Arthur never met them. When Te riri Pākehā (Another name for the conflict) began Mikaere was still a small child. They don’t remember it all too vividly but they still resent it as it was the beginning of English control and the destruction of their native culture. It was during this time Mikaere was found by Arthur and for lack of a better term, adopted. He was renamed Howard, and took on the last name Kirkland. It was also then that he was moved off the island to best avoid the fighting and when he met his brothers. He bonded well with both Jett and Jia Long (Then anglicized Leon). But there is still a lingering resentment to this day for the happenings of this time period.

Early Childhood:

Howie was raised in the same house as his two closest brothers, and that created a strong between the three of them. Arthur was not the most attentive parent in the world and that lead to many issues growing up. They weren’t unhappy or lonely but they were often homesick and confused. When Howie was around eight or nine he met Alfred for the first time and it is still something they are confused about. Their older brother was much preferable to Matthew or even their father. But it still felt strange. Alfred often came bearing gifts and large boats and many loud and unpleasant people. And at dinner there would always be some sort of argument. He was too young at the time to understand that Arthur was still at odds with his eldest. Other notable events are; the continuation of Māori resistance, a visit from Germany, a visit from Japan, a surprise visit from Russia, and the first New Zealand built locomotive.

Gaining dominion status and the Great War:

After gaining dominion status in 1907 Howie was faced with a choice. They could either move out of Arthur’s home and return home permanently, or they could stay. Jett had gained independence in 1901, six years earlier, and he was home less and less. Out of guilt however Howie decides to stay and look after Jia Long, and at times, Arthur. He worried his father may not be able to handle losing another child. As WW1 crept closer on the horizon Howie prepared to go to war by receiving his first tattoo, the Manaia across his back. The disaster of Gallipoli left him scared as almost three thousand of his men died, he still holds resentment against Arthur for that, and slowly over time it festers. He goes on to fight, transferring to the western front and participating in the Battle of Passchendaele where 3,700 of his soldiers fell. This only added to the length of the painful and deep scar cutting across his heart and torso. Finally the war comes to an end, however when they return home new truths come to light. Arthur confesses to the details behind his name change and how he came to be in his care. This paired with the folly of Gallipoli was enough to make him break ties with his father figure and finally strike out on his own.

WW2:

Howie enters WW2 at Arthur’s behest and participates in joint operations with him for a time. They get their second tattoo, denoting them as a warrior. After the attack on pearl harbor war is also declared on Japan and Howie worries after his older brother significantly. As threats of a Japanese invasion rise Howie finds themselves at home more and more, taking on the role of medic for the first time and finding they rather prefer the position. In June of 1942 Alfred arrives and the two spend a lot of time together before his departure. He participates in the invasion of Italy not as a soldier but as a medic, having decided that is the role he prefers to play. Before the war ends he gains another scar, under his right rib. This represents the battle of Monte Cassino.

Then to present:

After that Howie attempted to avoid conflict. They’d rather not follow in their father or older brother’s footsteps. Though he continues to care for his family, as well as seek Alfred’s approval, he’s more set to look inward. For now he’s moved on to better days, finding a solid relationship with Yong-Soo, and applying for medical school which would be the first time he attended college.

Brief relationship bios:

Arthur:

The relationship is a parental one. Though not exactly solid. Howie loves him terribly but they often find themselves at odds with him. They blame him for a lot of his troubles and rightly so. Their childhood was not pleasant. But for all of the pain they still check up on him regularly. Making sure he knows he’s somewhat appreciated and not forgotten. They do their best to explain how they’ve been hurt and why things can’t be the way they were but it’s difficult.

See following fic for more elaboration:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30438327

Jett:

Jett is Howie’s closest companion and has been throughout their life. Despite being the younger sibling they take a defensive role over him and will fuck up anyone who tries to start shit. They were brought closer via abandonment but they made the best out of it. They’re too halves of the same idiot. Often Howie will get into trouble and Jett will take the blame for them, allowing Howie to keep up his innocent façade.

Alfred and Matthew:

Alfred is somewhat protective over them, while Matthew could not care less. Howie’s relationship with Alfred while distant, is solid.

Jia Long:

Jia Long is the third in Jett and Howie’s group of terror. While not as often involved he never passes up an opportunity to get into trouble with them and Howie often employs him on pranks targeted against Yao and Arthur. They sort of understand where the other is coming from. Not completely, but some of the experiences are the same, causing them to bond. Once again Howie is highly protective over him and will go to fists.

Ireland and Scotland:

I don’t have solid characters for either nation but I do know historically speaking they would have good relationships with Howie. Historically New Zealand has stood behind both of them when it comes to conflict with Britain and the immigration rate back and forth between both countries is very high.

That’s it for now but I constantly have brainrot about this kid so probably more at a later date.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Hi I dont know if you want jercy requests at the moment but i had an idea for one :

Dark percy murdering calligula as a revenge for jason

Hello angel! Whew this request was willldddddd and I had soo much fun with it. There isn't any jercy per se (in fact Annabeth and Percy are together in this) but Percy is furrrrrious about Jason and he exacts a very twisted sort of revenge for his friend's honour. Basically this was an excuse to write dark!percy and by gods I hope I delivered!

CW: revenge driven, grief, graphic depictions of violence

Burning Maze Spoilers

he used to be nice.

He used to be nice.

Percy had been digging around the weapons room when his name had been shrieked like a dying animal. He had been looking for protective gear to give to little demigods in his sword-fighting class, when a scream like broken bones cracked through his body. He had been starting another calm, routine-controlled day at camp half-blood when he heard the news that made him snap.

*Two hours earlier*

“Jackson,” Annabeth knocks at his cabin door. He hears her voice carry through the open windows, and over the continuous sound of the ocean. “Pers, we have breakfast in half an hour and you have a sword class to teach today.”

The event had been printed on her wall of “to-dos” so that neither of their adhd brains would have the chance to forget. But he groans at the reminder, not wanting to escape his warm bed, or the duvet that wraps around him like a hug, or the pillows that hold his head as if he is a god. Sometimes he wishes he was a Hypnos kid. Their whole thing is sleeping . The knock sounds again.

“Seaweed Brain, come on,” His girlfriend sighs, “You promised we’d talk to Chiron about the—"

The loud and obnoxious cry of a harpy sounds somewhere in the distance and whatever she says next is drowned out completely. He knows though. Knows what she’s going to say and what they have to do. So he drags himself out of bed, like the last sack of potatoes on the crate. Heavy and bruised and discarded for the most desperate of the lot.

“I’m up,” He manages to rasp. He doesn’t like talking to people till he’s brushed his teeth, and eaten something, and spent at least half an hour staring at an empty coffee cup. A New Yorker through and through he supposes.

“Okay,” He hears Annabeth call, “I’ll see you at the dining hall then.”

He makes a sound half way between a grunt and a yawn and hopes she understands because that’s the best she’s getting out of him. The morning routine is quick, even done at the speed of a stubborn toddler. Soon he is sitting at the Poseidon table, scarfing down eggs and toast, and washing it done with a second cup of coffee. The buzzing in his veins is completely normal. And he’s definitely not speaking at a thousand miles an hour. This is how he always talks. Why on earth they allow coffee in a camp full of adhd kids, he’ll never understand. But it works in his favour so he isn’t going to complain.

By the time him and Annabeth are done talking to Chiron about introducing therapy to the camp, he feels like his eyes are moving faster than his sensory receptors can process and his thoughts are moving faster than his ability to process at all. So when his girlfriend, smiling at him about something, stops outside their training room he looks at her with furrowed brows and asks, “What are we doing here? Are we training for something?”

She frowns, “How much coffee did you have this morning?”

“Only three cups.” He shrugs, and clenches his hands in his pockets as if she can see through the fabric to the shaking body underneath.

Her grey eyes widen as if she’s about to scold him, a petulant child being chided by their ever tired caregiver. It makes the part of him still attempting to function slightly wild. He squishes that part down with the force of a thousand ships. Someone calls Annabeth’s name so with a quick peck to the cheek she leaves him in front of the training room and jogs towards the middle of camp and out of sight.

He stares at the room, trying to get his brain to stop focusing on things he doesn’t need to focus on right now, like the three lines of a song he heard at the grocery store a week ago that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head.

He used to be nice.

Entering the training room he scans the schedule and sees he’s teaching a class of small people, campers younger than ten who are just learning the ropes but should disaster ever strike will be ushered to the Cabin 9 bunkers to wait out the storm. It is a rule that no-one under the age of twelve be subject to war if they need not be. And he will make damn sure the need never ever surfaces.

He gathers swords of various shapes and sizes, along with a few daggers, and the straw dummies that have seen better days. It boggles his mind that they’re at a camp for children of literal greek gods but somehow there’s no funding for basic necessities like extra cots in the Hermes cabin, and better dummies to stab.

Muttering to himself he moves aside metal and stacks of straw, trying to find protective gear in the pile dumped at the corner of the training room. When he doesn’t see any he lets out a long suffering sigh... he has to go to the weapons room, which is more of a broom closet with deadly devices than anything else.

The room smelt musty, and the reek of rust slams into his nostrils at dizzying speeds. It reminds him of blood, and it made his skin itch with the need to get out. But still he bends down and searches through the mess of celestial bronze, and gold and—

The scream cauterizes his happiness. He is panic and pain and death and everything brutal in a single awful instant.

“PERCY!” His name has never sounded so full of agony, each syllable holds the stages of grief.

He is running towards the anguish before he’s even fully realises what’s going on. But what he sees when he crests the hill is enough to make the warmth of his heart run burning cold.

Annabeth is curled on the ground, tears like rivers of woe streaming down her cheeks and a purple flag clutched tightly in her fists.

“What happened?” His voice is soft. If he hears himself too loudly he’s going to shatter.

Annabeth cries harder, her whole body shuddering. Grief is overwhelming. Grief is all consuming. Grief will make itself known like thorns in your thumb or bullets in your heart.

“What happened?” He repeats.

And someone, far away, right next to his ear, inside his head, says, “It’s Jason, Jason Grace. He’s dead.”

He used to be nice.

It takes him three days. Three days of non-stop travelling, by foot, and air, and sea, to reach Caligula’s home. A palace. A grave. It is three days too long. Too long for a murderer to be walking free as if there are no consequences to his vile actions. But still he is here now and he will see the fall of a great, and watch how he bleeds just like everyone else. Not gold, the colour of the emperor’s one true love, but red, the colour of his victims.

Percy's eyes are almost black with violence, green so dark it reflects the night sky. His hands clench and unfurl as if practicing to wrap around a throat and squeeze till the symphony of breathing plays its last note. His body is strung taut, a bow string waiting to release. He is murder. He is nothing. He is your worst nightmare.

“Caligula.” He scrapes. It is the exact sound of a sword sparking against stone. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Nothing but scared silence greets him. He can feel the fear coating the walls of this burial ground like a fresh coat of paint. He will make a playground of the blood he spills, will invite all manner of creatures to use it as a park. He will revel in the slaughter he is about to participate in.

“Caligula!” His voice is the sharp edge of a small knife. Unassuming but deadly. ‘“It is no use hiding. There is no place you could go where I couldn't find you.” He feels the earth sway underneath him, and he grins. Oh this is going to be fun.

“Fine Emperor, if this is how you want to do it.”

With a shrug, he flings out an arm and turns three columns to dust. He watches the stone crumble, feels the sand on his palm as if he was crumbling the columns in his hands like soft cheese. With a small stomp of his foot a crack rivaling the river Thames splits the marble floor in half. The entire structure shudders, creaks right above him. His grin only gets wider, more dangerous.

“I will level this place to the ground. I will erase it from history as if it had never been. You will not exist Caligula, because you will go with it. Will be crushed under the weight of your own wealth.”

“You’re a fool,” A voice, reedy and nasalled in a way that has his soul curdling, shouts from somewhere on the far side of the room. “You will crush us both."

Percy laughs. He laughs and the sound widens the cracks in the floor. It is deep, and wild, but in the way a wild thing is caged: snapping at it’s bars, hissing to be free. He laughs.

“You are a fool Caligula. A fool if you think i am not willing to die if it means you suffer. A bigger fool still if you think it will not give me great pleasure to spend my last moments watching the life leave your eyes,”

The distant sound of bubbling starts to fill the room. Percy wonders if he can make blood boil. His mother has certainly said so enough times.

“Leave now half-blood,” The Emperor spits. There is still something of arrogant, misplaced bravery in his voice. It amuses Percy. “Leave now and you will not face the consequences.”

“And pray tell,” He contemplates, “Who you think will deliver your consequences if i leave?”

A scoff that echoes into the pathways of his brain comes from the back of the room. “I do not need consequences dealt. I have done nothing to deserve them.”

The sound of bubbling is getting louder. He looks curiously at the cracks still spidering around the room. “Ah Emperor,” He tuts, “That is where you are wrong. People who deserve consequences hardly ever get them. It is those who don’t think they deserve them that become the unlucky bearers.”

“What are you going on about, boy?” He snarls.

The bubbling is loud enough now that Percy almost checks to see if a small brook has carved its way through the floor. There is nothing there except ever growing cracks, turning to rifts and canyons before his eyes.

He used to be nice.

“We can do this one of two ways Caligula.” He starts, honey bees with a sting a little too sharp to be defence. “You can apologise and I’ll kill you quickly, or…” His smile is sickening. “And this is my preferred method, I could watch you die slowly, watch the life drain from your body and into the soil of blood-crops that will grow here, and your dying words will be the mercy you will inevitably beg for.”

The bubbling spills over the cracks, leaking salty water onto the dying marble floor.

“Better choose soon oh dear Emperor,” He giggles, “I am the only thing holding this room together. As soon as I let go the floor will split like your loyalties. You will be crushed to death by your own greed. And if that doesn't happen you will surely drown.” To emphasise his point water starts gushing from the floor, no longer a bubbling stream but a raging river. His laughter is carried along the ripples that hit the walls, already leaking with the all encompassing ocean. “Wouldn’t it be a pity Caligula? To drown in your own home, surrounded by all the things you killed for, watching as they drown with you?”

“Shut up half-blood,” He screeches, “You do not have the power it takes to kill me. You are nothing compared to the centuries I have been alive.”

“Do you know who i am honouring Caligula?” He asks softly, a stark and terrifying contrast to his smile a moment before. “In all your centuries can you remember but one demigod, a dear friend of mine, but just another victim of yours?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, “They are all the same in the end. All bleed, and cry, and piss, and die the same.”

The grin Percy lets loose starts hurricanes. It is the absolute wrong thing to say. ‘“If it is all the same to you Emperor,” He becomes terror. “Then i think i’ll spill your blood at his altar.”

And before the doomed emperor could react an invisible hand wraps around his throat and he was being dragged to the middle of the room. His eyes wide, popping out of his head; hands clawing at his neck as if trying to remove the grip they cannot feel; feet flopping helplessly underneath him.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.” It is a command.

Caligula glares, attempting to spit at his feet.

Percy tilts his head and with a single crook of his finger he slams the emperor into the wall. The crack is deafening. It makes him grin.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.”

Caligula produces an ancient roman gesture, passed through time as if centuries cannot dismantle the insults of humans.

Percy twists his wrist and the emperor’s body contorts into something unrecognizable, bones snapping and shattering to fit their new mold.

“Apologise for killing my friend.”

“Fuck you,” He manages to choke out.

A wave of ocean water alarming in its beauty rises behind him. He is its god. And with a wink he shoves all of it down the emperor’s throat. The column of that pale neck bobs as if attempting to take the water down. He can see the body trying to retch it all up, unable to handle the sheer amount, the salt that comes with it.

“Watch Caligula,” He motions to the palace sinking under the weight of his ocean, “Watch as everything you have ever cared to love drowns.”

Percy grabs a shard of mirror, uncaring of the gash it sweeps across his palm. He holds it up to the ancient powerful Emperor, who is convulsing into nothing. “Watch.”

He used to be nice.

Sometime later when Percy Jackson walks up a hill, and into the fading sun there is nothing but content mania lining his features, and behind him where a grand home once stood, is a trickling river and a single spear carved with the words, “Neo Helios”. The only sign that Caligula, Emperor and murderer, ever existed,

He used to be nice.

Until someone killed his friends.

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

[image id: printed text that reads, "I used to be nice." end id]

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (1)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3400

A/N: Yay! The re-write is here! I changed it so now there are flashbacks and stuff and the chapters are longer! I’m also posting this chapter a day early because of reasons. Anyways, enjoy!

[New York, New York, March 2024]

‘Soulmates?’ You had never heard of the concept.

‘We are destined to be together. The universe made it so.’

You shot up in bed, a light sheen of sweat covered your body. Loki’s words replayed over and over in your head. You hadn’t heard his actual voice in so long but it was still as clear as if he was speaking to you now. It had been twelve years since you had seen him in Germany and he had tried to take over.

‘We are destined to be together.’

The words echoed in your mind. ‘Destined’ huh? Well, if you’d learned anything from the past four hundred and eighty-six years that you were not with Loki, it’s that the universe does a shit job at keeping you together. You ran your fingers through your hair, easily smoothing out the tangled mess. It was too early to think about Loki.

You slipped out of the silk sheets that covered your king-sized bed in your two-level, top floor Upper East Side penthouse. You were very proud of how far you had come. The view was amazing. You could see some of Central Park from one side and the stereotypical New York skyline from another.

As you walked out of your room, you caught your reflection in one of your full-sized mirrors. And that was definitely a nice view. When you came out of Terrigenesis almost five hundred years ago, you quickly discovered that you were now the blueprint for a perfect person. Straight, white teeth, surprisingly tameable hair, and clear, unblemished skin were some of the visually obvious changes. In addition to your perfected looks, you had increased senses, healing, strength, endurance, and your favorite, pain tolerance. Oh, and don’t forget you basically look twenty-five forever.

You checked your phone while you made breakfast in the kitchen downstairs. There were a couple of emails from your employees on their latest jobs. You opened one from Max, your right-hand man. You were reading over some job offers he had handpicked for you when you got a text from the man himself.

Bringing up some donuts!

Max was the only person from work to have access to your penthouse. He was your best friend. The two of you had met when you were at Afterlife nearly fifteen years ago. He was an Inhuman as well. All of your employees were Inhumans, using their specialties to carry out their jobs. Max had the power to change surfaces. It was a strange power, but he had learned to make it very useful. He could cause his pursuers to slip on the suddenly ice-like ground or climb up a glass skyscraper.

“Hello, bitch! I brought donuts!” Max called from the elevator.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Max walked in holding the goods. He always wore eccentric color-coordinated outfits. Even the times you saw him in stealth mode, he had to have some lace or frill somewhere. Today he wore a mixture of neon green and pink with matching eyeliner.

“Are Cosmo and Wanda disguising themselves as your clothes?” you asked.

“Haha,” he deadpanned. “I knew you were going to say something like that. You’re so fucking funny. Soo…” He plopped the three large donut boxes onto your kitchen counter. “Have you heard of the Avenger’s new quote-unquote recruit?”

“Um, I think it’s your job to keep tabs on heroes.” You opened the nearest box and happily pulled out your favorite donut.

“Okay. Number one: I’m not speaking to you as your right-hand, right now, but as your friend.” He held up his finger. “Number two: it’s not really a job if I do it in my free time anyways. You’re paying me to do something that I do on an hourly basis.”

“You stalk the Avengers on an hourly basis?”

“No? Anyways, number three: it’s Thor’s brother. It’s your Loki.”

“What the fuck?” you choke on your donut. Max was the only person who knew you that you and Loki had a history. And that’s all he knew. Nothing about soulmates or all that shit. “What the fuck, Max? Did you try to use donuts to soften the blow? Stop laughing.”

“I-I wish I had caught that reaction on camera,” he said in between fits of giggles.

“Haha,” it was your turn to deadpan. “Fuck, man. I guess we just have to double our efforts to keep ourselves off of their radar.”

“Do you think they’ve forgiven him for New York?” Max composed himself.

“I mean, they must have if they’re letting him join the team.” You chanced another bite of your donut.

“But lots of people haven’t.”

“Lots of people still haven’t forgiven Barnes,” you pointed out. You didn’t know when or why Loki had attacked New York. That Loki was nothing like the man who you had grown to love back in the 1500s. But you were nothing like that girl either.

 “Have you chosen a new job from the list I sent you?” he changed the subject.

“No, not yet, and you have a little…” you motioned to the corner of your mouth.

Max got the hint and wiped some powder off of his mouth. You noticed the sprinkling of grey that was mixed into his curly black hair. He displayed the last fifteen years proudly while you remained unchanged. Max was the closest you’ve been to someone in a long time, and just like everyone before him, you would outlive him. But you would remember him. You remembered everyone. You remembered everything.

Right now, you thought of Agnes, your first real friend. She was your handmaiden and you had met right before everything went to shit. She had helped you cope after you underwent Terrigenesis, although you hadn’t known what it was back then. She had helped you run away and even died for you. You had only known her for nine years, but you compared everyone to her. Max held second place, right after Agnes.

“I think we should take the Senator’s offer,” Max said, jolting you out of your memories. He pulled up the offer on his iPad. “One million to off his upcoming competition.”

“Damn,” you whistled. “He’s desperate, isn’t he? Is there a deadline?”

“No, but I assume we should get it done quickly.”

“Send over the info.”

🌹

You shoved the flower into Jake Morano’s mouth. Blood from the bullet wound in his forehead trickled down until it turned the perfect, white rose red. You snapped a quick photo on your burner phone to send to the Senator as confirmation. With a huff, you looked around the apartment. Mr. Anderson had put up a fight, although it didn’t do anything to deter you and Max. A few glass awards were in pieces on the hardwood floor, family pictures were shattered, and the wall behind you held a couple of bullets from Anderson’s gun.

“All good?” Max asked from his location by the computer. He was deleting all footage of you being there. And everything else, just to be safe.

“Yep.” You walked over to him, your boots making a satisfying clicking on the ground, and proudly displayed the picture of the dead body. “Got the confirmation picture for the Senator. How’s it coming?”

“Almost… there. We’re good to go.”

The two of you left in your favorite black Lamborghini. Unfortunately, you actually had to drive places now that Gordon was dead. You followed his advice, though, and bought a plane along with four other sports cars, a helicopter, and a couple of motorcycles. You knew how to operate every single one of them. What else were you supposed to do except for establishing your contract killing empire?

🌹

Loki stood in the middle of his assigned room with his hands on his hips. It certainly was much nicer than the last prison the Avengers had kept him in. They may say it wasn’t a prison but the twenty-four-hour surveillance from Stark’s new AI said otherwise. Even though it was nicer than the shitty glass cylinder from twelve years ago, it was empty. Thor had shown Loki the few things in his room: books, photographs, and his own goddamned merchandise. 

Would Loki have his own merchandise one day? Everyone was redeemable as shown by Romanoff and Barnes. Maybe there would be plastic replicas of his helmet? No, Loki thought that was stupid. Only heroes got merchandise and heroes had to show up to events and sponsor health drinks or whatever the fuck they do. Heroes had to be nice.

Nothing good ever came from being on Midgard. Most recently, there was his father dying, although what followed was worse. Before that was the attack he had been forced to make on the city. And the first time he had ever come to Midgard had ended with disappointment and heartbreak.

Loki sighed and waved his hand to conjure green and gold accents, sheets, and blankets. At least there was color in the room now. No doubt the AI had reported that he had used his magic. He hoped it had also told them that all he did was improve the room, he didn’t need anyone talking to him at the moment.

“Good afternoon, Reindeer Games,” the AI echoed through the room. Loki glowered at the sound of Stark’s nickname. “There is a meeting in Conference Room Five that the entire team is required to attend.”

Loki hadn’t the faintest fucking idea where the conference rooms were. He left his room and caught sight of his brother and the Valkyrie. The God of Mischief followed the pair down to where the meeting was taking place. Did he really want to go? If he wanted to be part of the team he would have to. He preferred the Revengers, though. While it had lasted. It was smaller.

Everyone was sitting around the long table. Of course, Loki would be the last to arrive. Stark and Barton both glared at him when he entered. Understandable. Romanoff remained impassive, but Loki knew she would bash his head in the first chance she got. Rogers had to remain positive that Loki could be redeemed because if the Norse God could redeem himself, then so could Barnes. Bruce had warmed up to Loki on the journey to Midgard. None of the newer members of the team outright hated him, but they were still cautious around him.

Loki found himself sitting in between his brother and Bruce. Stark went up to the screen at the front and everyone fell silent.

“This is Jake Morano.” The screen turned on to show a dead man with a rose stuffed in his mouth. “He was going to run for Senator against this guy.” The screen changed. “This guy is William Anderson, a very corrupt Senator. In the last month, Morano began to gain a lot of support including a sponsor from us. Well, a sponsor from me in the name of the Avengers.”

“Are you implying that Anderson killed Morano?” Rogers asked.

“I’m saying that Anderson hired someone to kill Morano.” The screen changed again to display multiple bodies left with a rose in their mouths. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a quick search of bodies with roses found in their mouths and we found a shocking amount of similar deaths. The first ones dating back to the nineteen twenties. More recently, some of the deaths have happened at the same time on opposite sides of the globe. Deaths include, but are not limited to, shooting, stabbing, poisoning, drowning, burning, missing organs, being found stuck in a wall, and looking like a suicide. They all have a white rose soaked in blood in their mouths.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a serial killer?” Wilson questioned.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the same guy,” Romanoff pointed out. “Especially if it goes back to before Steve looked like that.”

“It’s gotta be an organization,” Barnes guessed. “Been around for a while, a couple of deaths happening at the same time, and one constant MO.”

“Loki?” Everyone looked at the God of Mischief when Stark said his name. “You’re technically a part of this team now. What’s your opinion?”

“Barnes is probably right,” Loki said after a moment’s hesitation. “The locations are all over the place and there are many different ways the victims met their demise.”

They nodded and Loki returned to silence.

“Alright, game plan.” Stark clapped his hands. “We have to get Anderson into an interrogation room. Round one is the good cops: Steve and Sam. When he doesn’t crack, and he won’t, we up the intensity. Nat and the Manchurian Candidate will do some intimidation. If he still doesn’t crack we can send in Wanda, or even Reindeer Games if she’s not comfortable, to search his mind.”

“Are all Midgardian politics like that?” Loki heard the Valkyrie ask Thor after the meeting. Thor only shrugged so she turned to Bruce.

“I mean, I haven't been here in a while but it’s always kinda been fucked up.”

Only an hour after the meeting, Anderson took out one million dollars in cash. Stark tracked him to a small cafe where he was going to, no doubt, pay the assassin. The team rallied, but of course, Loki wasn’t going. Apparently, he wasn’t ‘cleared’ yet. The only other people staying behind were the Valkyrie, Thor, and Barton due to a recent injury. 

Loki went to his room to sulk, although he told everyone he was thinking. He didn’t want to be here. Maybe he wanted to go somewhere that reminded him of home with tall buildings that reached the sky… 

🌹

"Hello, (Y/N)." Loki’s voice was as smooth as it was in your head, but it was different. The only way you could describe it was that it was solid. It felt less intimate. Like he could bless others with his words, but it was more special because he was here. 

"Loki," you breathed.

"You look more beautiful than I ever could imagine." He stepped closer.

You touched your hair self-consciously. There were multiple knots, and it probably looked like one of those bird nests the dogs always knocked out of trees. You had woken up in a hurry and your hair being trapped in the hood of your cloak probably didn't help.

Then it occurred to you that you were wearing only your nightgown, and you tightly wrapped your cloak around yourself. Loki wouldn’t hurt you, but no man has seen you in an outfit so revealing. Still, you took another step closer.

"I do not know what to say." Fortunately, your voice didn’t shake or waver as you had feared, but Loki could probably feel your nervousness.

You both took a final step closer. You reached up and cupped Loki's face in your hand which tingled slightly when you made contact. You admired his sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. Then you shivered in the cold winter air. Loki noticed and pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him and felt a shiver, a different, better shiver, shoot through your body.

“You’re real.” Your soft voice was almost lost in the biting wind. “I was so scared that I was dreaming.”

Another goddamned dream about Loki? You groaned into your pillow and pushed a few damp strands of hair away from your face. Why now, all of a sudden? Was it because he was so close? Just a few hours upstate in the Avenger’s compound.

Pushing the dream aside, you stretched and got ready for the day. You had sent the photo to the Senator, who you had learned was very fucking corrupted, and he replied with a location. That changed your plans a bit, you hadn't physically met a client in decades, but it was for the better for multiple reasons.

The first reason was that the cafe he had chosen was next to a flower shop where you got your supply of roses. The second reason was that it meant his apartment would be empty. While you went to get the money, and eventually kill Senator Anderson, Max was going to rob his house. It wasn’t something you’d usually do, but honestly, the shitty asshole deserved it.

Your lips were painted red and you wore your usual boots and a leather jacket. Your regular hair was hidden behind a pink and green wig, courtesy of Max. A baseball cap and large sunglasses further hid your appearance. Though if somebody knew your face, the hat and glasses did nothing. There were multiple knives hidden on your body as well as a handgun tucked into your waistband and a pocket pistol in your, well, pocket.

As you walked into the cafe, Izzy, the auburn-haired florist, nodded to you. She had Botanokinesis, plant manipulation, so your supply of white roses was never low. Every once in a while, Izzy would take a job but she had told you she was very happy in her shop.

You noticed the Senator immediately. He still wore a suit and the sunglasses did nothing to hide his identity. There were two young women behind the counter and you suspected that the four other ‘customers’ were too buff not to be the Senator’s security. Anderson had his back to the door which meant you would have to get past his security to get out. You zeroed in on the black briefcase on the ground by his feet.

“Senator,” you greeted and sat down across from him.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the asshole replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“Well of course I couldn’t be,” you rolled your eyes behind your heavily tinted glasses. “My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” He didn’t notice your sarcasm. You pulled out the burner phone and showed him the messages as proof. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase flat on the table and pushed it towards you.

“Open it.” Even though small boobie traps wouldn’t hurt you much, it wasn’t a piece of information you wanted to give him.

Anderson sighed and complied. Then you turned it around to quickly inspect the contents. One thousand one hundred dollar bills. Hello Mr. Franklin. You nodded in satisfaction and comically rubbed your hands together to inconspicuously grab a knife that was hidden up your sleeve.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

You closed the case, stood up, and plunged your knife deep into his left carotid artery. As his security descended upon you, you pulled the knife out and his neck satisfyingly squirted blood. The Senator collapsed with his hands clutching his wound desperately. The pool of blood rapidly grew underneath him.

The two baristas screamed behind the counter and the Senator’s security drew their guns. You flipped the small table for cover as bullets pierced the cafe’s window behind you. Perfect. Just a bit more.

You pulled out the handgun from your waistband and with practiced ease, shot three of the four goons. The last one got the bloodied knife to the face. You elbowed the already damaged window and it finally broke, raining glass down on you. Ignoring the small cuts, you jumped out of the cafe through the window as a familiar red and gold suit landed in front of you. Why the fuck were the Avengers here? What about Loki?

You darted into Izzy’s shop and she played her part well, screaming that you had run out the back when you had actually gone into the side room. You listened as the Avengers followed her directions. One person, maybe it was the Black Widow, stayed behind to help calm down the seemingly hysterical Izzy. If she wasn’t so happy at her shop and she didn’t want to work directly for you, she could be a great actress.

You rolled back the rug on the ground to reveal a metal trapdoor. You entered the code to unlock it and climbed down into the darkness. Behind you, you heard the trapdoor’s magnetic lock click back into place. Two centuries ago, you had tunnels dug underneath Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens for easy getaways. If you went… that way, you would end up in Sandra’s souvenir shop which was a couple of blocks away from your penthouse.

With a million dollars in one hand and a handgun in the other, you walked down the concrete tunnel.

*

*

*

*

*

Taglist:

@kaithehero @liliannyah​ @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury​ @aberrant-annie

[katiehepburns]

so, just binged Legends of Tomorrow, and for some reason, I wanted to write this down.

So, Legends is a really unique show.  It doesn’t take itself too seriously and ridiculous but fun, reminding why I loved The Flash early years (season 1 & season 2).  

apologies, for this rambling mess.  this got written in a burst of energy which faltered towards the end.

What other show would have plots about time travel, Sisqo singing Thong Song during a battle scene, and a child toy’s furry toy Beebo helping the heroes or being seen as a “god.”

The time travel aspects have been a lot of fun.  It’s really hard to pick my favorites (but I am a sucker for 1920 - 1950′s stories), and kudos to the casting directors who have gotten some great actors in guest starring parts (The actors who played JRR Tolkien and Elvis Presley were real highlights for me.  Also I loved the young Marty Stein episodes). Also, Jonah Hex is probably my favorite recurring characters on this show, and I really hope that the writers find a way to bring him back.  

Sara Lance, who I loved from Arrow, is the reason among other Arrowverse recurring players (Stein, Ray, Jax, Mick and Snart) that I started to watch this show.   Sara’s storyline in season 1 and season 2 was really unique and fun to watch her evolve from dealing being brought back by Lazarus Pit, and opening herself open to being a hero and embracing her grief and pain, turning it into becoming a hero and the captain.    My issue is with the later seasons (season 4 & 5) aside from the blindness incident (which became more of a plot device than actual storyline, which could have been really interesting to delve into) is Sara’s main purpose, aside to being a captain and kickass leader, is to be a love interest to Ava.  She has some great moments being a surrogate sister to the other characters, but I wish she had more of an individual storyline (also that job offer thread was also dropped too quickly - I wish we got more of insight into what exactly it was and why it came about).

Ava, her growth over the past three seasons has been interesting and integrating her as part of the Legends has given some fun moments, especially to have her interact with all the other characters and become friends with them, but aside from those smaller side moments, her storyline is so wrapped up and her identity is purely revolves around being Sara’s girlfriend.  I wish that she and Sara had individual storylines than just everything being just about their relationship.  It’s great to see Sara (and Ava) happy and in a healthy relationship  but wish that they weren’t just each other’s plot device.

Mick - it’s interesting that out of all the original cast outside of Sara, that he has lasted the longest.  I always loved the Snart / Mick dynamic (partly because of I love Wentworth and Dominic from their Prison Break days as brothers), so it’s nice to see his character change very slowly, and evolve as the show has gone on.  I just wish he had more scenes with Charlie -  I loved their moments together and they were such kindred spirits.  I am still not a 100% sold on the whole give Mick a teenage daughter, but Lita has been actual a fun side character.  Lita works because she isn’t a bratty/angry/ annoying teenager, but as she spends her more time with Mick, I get that it’s about seeing a new side of him, and they have found a way of having her interact with the rest of the cast.  Lita’s scene with Charlie in the season five finale was really moving and I liked how she was the one who motivated Charlie to help her friends.    

Nate - I have mixed feelings about him.  Yes, he’s fun, pretty, and amusing but sometimes, it just feels like he’s wedged into the show.  I love all his friendships on the show especially with Sara, Ray, Behrad, but all his romantic relationships have fallen flat with me.  I love love Zari and Amaya (they were both wonderful kickass women) as individual characters but I never could get behind their pairing with Nate.  I did enjoy his interactions and meeting Grandpa Steel (I love the actor), and even his flawed and messed up relationship with his Dad.  I am failing to express why Nate just doesn’t work as a love interest for me, but all his pairings, I could never get into, and it’s too bad.  I wish the writers would give him a more interesting storyline that has nothing to do with his profession (his knowledge of history is important but they also have Gideon at their disposal soo..), his family, or a romance. It feels like of late, he’s just shoehorned into the show and it makes him very meh to me.  

Ray - I was likely one of the few who liked his character from Arrow and it was nice to see him really evolve and become his own person (aside from a member of a ill fated love triangle) on LoT.  He was fun and a real great asset to the Legends team, and I really enjoyed how of all of the characters, he interacted with most of all the cast and had relationships with all the different characters that were unique and fun.  One of the great highlights was seeing how he was so welcoming and became a real genuine friend to John Constantine (one of my favorite moments of his was bonding with a dying Constantine).  Also, what other character could bond with the man who was their enemy (Vandal Savage) over Jenga while being stuck in hell?!  I’m just really bitter that the writers choose to write him out because while I loved the second half of season 5, something was missing with Ray gone.  Based on Brandon’s comments about his exit, not to mention the COVID related challenges, I am not sure if Ray will pop up again so soon in season 6, but really want him and Courtney back on the show in an arc or full time.  While the reason behind his exit was disappointing, the storyline did leave the door open for circumstances to change, and Ray and Nora could easily rejoin the Legends.

Nora - she was a real surprise to me.  I didn’t mind Damien Darhk in Arrow but in Legends, he worked really well as a big bad, and plus Neal seemed to have a blast playing him.  Nora was one of those characters who didn’t capture my interest in the beginning, but as time went on, and she became more than Damien’s daughter, she was such a compelling character.  Aside from Charlie, her evolution on the show has been so interesting and it was amazing to see her change and learn to love all of herself, dark and light sides.   At first romance with Ray had me skeptical, mostly because of my feelings of real life couples playing a on screen couple, but it just worked.  Mostly, I love how as Nora slowly changed and evolved, that her relationships with the other characters grew (those Book Club scenes with Sara, Ava, Mona were soo much fun - wish that they had more moments together), there was so much more potential for Nora to bond and really become good friends with Charlie.  Also, the small moments with John and Nora were great, and wish that the writers had given us more scenes with them, because of their unique and dark history.  Also, Courtney as Marie Antoinette was a real blast.  Like Ray, there was so much rich storylines to mine with her especially with Astra in the picture, aside from the fun and amusing places that they could have taken her as the new Fairy Godmother

John Constantine - this will probably be an unpopular opinion, but I absolutely love him, and thought bringing him into the show in season 3 gave it a nice boost of energy.  The beginning of season 3 was a bit rocky for me (it had some great moments, but it was also really hard to get into for some reason).  I know some people say that there is too much of him, but I disagree.  The writers found a way to write him into the show in a natural way without shoehorning him.  Yes, he’s had storylines about him (Astra, Desmond) but also those storylines have also been part of the larger arc of a particular season.  It’s not just about Constantine, but how it has a ripple effect on the overall big bad.  I find him refreshing and fun.  Also, I really enjoy his dynamics with the cast (I love the Sara/John dynamic and god, I adored the Charlie/John friendship SO much).  John and Zari 2.0 attraction and growing relationship in season 5 was a real highlight - they have my OTP kryptonite (polar opposite couple who bicker and banter but also are kindred spirits, who call each other out on their BS but they just get each other even if they won’t admit it).  Can we also have a Mick / John team up in season 6? 

Zari(s) - I really love them both.  While I will miss Zari 1.0, I am interested to see how they will explore this new Zari and how she’ll fit into this team, and if she’ll struggle with having another version of her in the Totem, she has a chance to become more than she is.  Also, how amazing is it to have a smart, brilliant, and kickass character, whose religion (Muslim) that doesn’t make her a stereotype and is embraced as part of who she is, and how it defines her.  It’s not made into a joke.   Also, an aside, I did really love the interactions with OG Zari and Constantine - their side adventures with Charlie in season 4 were so so much fun.  Also, really wish for Zari 1.0, the writers had explored other romantic avenues for her than Nate (I would have loved to have seen a Charlie/Zari romance or more of a flirtation with Jonah Hex). And cat Zari? so cute.   

Charlie - There aren’t enough words to say how much I loved her.  She was another character who just interested me from day one, and I just loved everything about her.  Amaya was fun and kickass, but Charlie, I fell in love with her.  She was snarky, fun, and just fit so well with the team.  Her evolution was really well done. I loved all her friendships with the other Legends especially Mick, John, and Sara.  I was really crushed when the actress wanted to leave the show and work on other projects but glad that the door was left open for her to return for an episode or two.

Since this is soo long, remaining briefer thoughts:

Behrad is a precious bean.  I am so glad he’s going to stay on the show.

Gary, while I like him and he’s worked well with the show’s hijinks, hope that his goofiness doesn’t get too old now he’s a season regular.

I still really miss Jax and Stein.

 Aside from the really disappointing “love story” of Carter and Kendra, Wally was a character was so poorly used on the show and they did such a disservice to him.

Rip, while it took me awhile to warm up to him, still wish they had written off his character better in season 3.  Hope they find a way to have him return for an episode or two.

Human Gideon?  MORE PLEASE

I’d love to see Leo Snart again.  Also, more Jonah Hex!!!

Probably a long shot, but it would be great to see Captain Lance pop up, or it would be fun to have Earth 2 Laurel and Tommy Merlyn team up with the Legends.  Mostly, I’d love see Sara interact with her sister’s doppelganger.

Astra’s storyline in season 6 - really hope that the writers do her justice and watch her change as she spends more time with the Legends.

Nyssa, Sara’s former beloved, come on the show, pretty please?!

Gary Junior II, please don’t destroy the Waverider or try and kill the Legends

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

✰ 𝖇𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖔𝖐𝖎'𝖘 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖊𝖗 ✰

requested: yes / no 

plot: being the king of the disaster’s daughter and the lover of the most insecure boy on the world is fucking hard, but not for y/n ^^

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

-soo basically being loki’s daughter is very chaotic

-like, you are the biggest bastard’s daughter of the nine realms, but he never want you to hurt (especially when he’s hiding from someone)

-and that’s because he sends you down to the earth, to thor and the stark tower 

-thor pats your shoulder and annoys loki

-”don’t worry, brother, i got little y/n”

-you met peter at the school; it’s a little bit difficult to act like a normal midgard-girl, but you try your best

-you are very good friends with mj, because she’s distant with others, and you just try to fit in - mj don’t know too about your ‘little’ secret -so that’s just a perfect friendship, you two cringe together at the school things, and you don’t find the girl scary bitch you are loki’s daughter, you can deal even with hela’s big doggo

-once at history class, you two get in one pair to one project 

-you didn’t care about that much, but peter -who crushes you from the time when he first saw you- fluttering himself to the edge 

-”okay, peter, you are spiderman, you are a superhero, you can do it. y/n just a girl, yeah. you can do it.”

-but he don’t know who you really are oh so poor baby

-everything is fine, and you find tom actually pretty cute, plus he always helps you, even if it’s not about the project

-and when you look at the paper to solve the exercise, tom can’t help but stare at you, your fairness and beauty is so ethereal, but he can’t explain it

-before the project-day, you spend the afternoon at pete, and ned coming too because he sleeps there - he carries one big lego-building in his hands

-and accidentally, when you three studies and the lego falls down, ned and peter just scream, but you use your power to levitate the object, and successfully place it down on the bed

-while you skip the outworld, the two boy drop their jaws - ned nearly throw up 

-when you are done, you look back, and see the two boys just sitting there, mouth opened

-you sigh, and start to panic “okay, please-” but then you realize that you can be far more scarier than this. “if you two tell this to anybody else, then i’ll kill you two, okay?” 

-”b-but what- what the hell was that, y/n?” tom stutters, and you sigh, cursing your father in your head like you always watch what i’m doing, where are you now, you- urrughrhurhg

-but then ned suddenly passes out, and you wouldn't wonder even if this is your father’s reaction to the whole thing

-so at night, when you two nurse ned, you tell your story to peter, and he tries to stay calm and understanding, but in his mind freak out comes after freak out

-peter eases when you tell him that you know tony, his mentor, and you two talk about peter’s spiderman-thing for a whole night - he feels much better that he can chat with someone about this

-and at one time around 3 or 4am, he offers you to sleep, and you two get very close to each other - and tom can't deal with his feelings, so he confesses for you his long-term love when he thinks that you’re asleep

-”i wouldn’t thought that we gonna end up like this, but… i really like you, y/n, like really really” 

-you just smirk, and open your eyes a little bit “i like you too, pete. and don’t start to wonder about this, i have… godlike good senses.” he chuckles, and pats your hair

-”you are yourself a goddess, love, i didn’t doubt it for a second” 

-and from that day, you and pete are partners in crime ohh but this poor baby can’t do any bad, whilst you- you are the little fucking cool princess of the tricks and intrigues

-in a fight you help him to maximize his powers, sometimes arguing a little bit because he did a really dangerous movement

-showing him little tricks like teleporting, he enjoys so so much when you appear behind him and kiss his neck

-and of course that loki notices this, so at first he’s super insecure about peter, and give him the most scariest dad-talk

-”little do you know, midgard-boy, but i am loki, the god of mischief… and on other hand, the death. so if i hear just only one time that you harmed my y/n, you gonna beg for the good things like pain” 

-peter just nods his head and tries to be kind, and when loki disappears, you knock on the door to the occasionally sleepover

-you reassure him that your father don’t gonna make those things what he said

-”don’t worry, pete. he’s just jealous because i never had a boyfriend, but… yeah, he really can torture you, i saw a couple things and the guts and the blood is just blo-” “okay babe, i understand” 

-sitting at the top of the skyscrapers while eating icecream, look down to the walking people and talk about sweet nothings. when you feel bad, peter strokes your back and kisses your forehead, and tries to cheer you up

-”look at that cloud, baby, what do you think, what does it look like?” “i think... a smashed potato, maybe?” “smashed potato, hmm... that’s great. wait, are you hungry?” 

-some time, when you two walk in the city streets, peter begs for you to do some little magic, and you fill his wishes - even if it’s just a tiny bit of air-forcing 

-when you sometimes go back to asgard, you kiss your sweet lil bean deeply and curls his hair with your fingers before the ride 

-”i’ll be back before you blink two, peter-boy.” 

-and when you disappear in heimdall’s gate, he just smiles at the sky and whispers “i love you, y/n, i miss you already” 

-and peter don’t know, but you hear anything, earning a laugh from you - suddenly, the sky is filled with little clouds and rainbows because of you

-”i know, pete. i know.” 

[fyexo]

191031 SuperM Reveal How They Reacted When They First Found Out About the Supergroup

What does it take for a K-pop group’s first album to debut at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart? For SuperM, it takes a lot of hard work and a hefty dose of jumping and popping.

To understand SuperM’s success on the charts is to understand its members, company history and sound. The supergroup is comprised of seven members from three different SM Entertainment groups: SHINee’s Taemin, EXO’s Kai and Baekhyun, and NCT and its Chinese sub-unit WayV’s Ten, Taeyong, Mark and Lucas. In their respective groups and individual solo careers, the members have sold over 14 million records combined, racked up more than 4 billion views on YouTube with their music videos, and have more than 120 million followers online.

While this is not SM Entertainment’s first attempt at the creation of a supergroup (that title belongs to 2012’s Younique), SuperM is unique as a joint venture between Capitol Records and SM Entertainment. The group’s debut single, “Jopping,” is a quintessential “SM Music Performance” track — a term coined by the company to describe their genre-bending style of rock, hip-hop and R&B that, combined with stellar music videos and masterful choreography, creates an experience that leaves a lasting impression long after the first listen.

It’s this self-defined genre of music that has fans around the globe hooked on SM’s artists, and SuperM’s debut single “Jopping” is no exception: with its pulsating garage backbeat, sleek choreography, Baekhyun’s chills-inducing high note, and sampling of the Avengers theme, “Jopping” is truly a high-octane ride from start to finish. However, sections of the song harken back to past hits, like EXO’s “Wolf,” NCT 127’s “Cherry Bomb,” and TVXQ!’s “Catch Me,” rooting the track in the company’s signature style while still exploring a new chapter in SM history.

With a Billboard No. 1 debut album and a knockout showcase in Los Angeles under their belts, SuperM is currently preparing for their first tour, the aptly titled We Are The Future Tour — serving both as a callback to the 1997 song by first generation SM Entertainment K-Pop group H.O.T and setting SuperM’s goal of musical domination all at once. Kicking off in Fort Worth, Texas, the tour will see SuperM performing in ten different cities spaced over three months, and promises to showcase not only dynamic group performances, but their “individual characteristics” too, according to Ten.

PopCrush caught up with SuperM to discuss the group’s first practice session, their upcoming tour and the group’s dream of becoming the first Asian artist ever to perform at the Super Bowl.

You held your first official performance as SuperM on October 4th! What was it like performing in front of fans at the Capitol Records building?

Taeyong: It was awesome!

Mark: It was really, really fun. It was our first time performing as a team live in front of our fans and it was like a new experience — we all felt the same emotions together. I think that’s what really stood out to me; last night we were all getting nervous. We were all warming up together. It’s these kinds of things [that] make it feel like we’re actually a whole team. We feel kind of powerful.

Taeyong: We were all really, really nervous about this whole performance. We wanted to show so much to our fans because it was the first time we were performing in front of our fans as SuperM. Because of that, a part of me feels like I wish I could’ve shown more, so hopefully ... I can show off more next time.

How long did you know about SuperM before it was announced to the world?

Baekhyun: One year ago, but our younger members didn’t know then.

Mark: I learned about SuperM on NCT 127’s tour, so this year. I learned about it a couple months before preparing.

Taeyong: Yeah, me too.

What was your first reaction when you heard about SuperM?

Group: Wow!

Baekhyun: So powerful!

Mark: I actually wanted to say this once. During our early filming all together, I went to Taemin’s room and I asked him, “What did you feel when you first heard about SuperM?” He actually said, “This is actually something that can only happen now.” I actually totally agreed with him once he said it. It’s something that the world never thought that they needed, but now they’ll know that they needed it once we come out. We’ve been preparing a lot and we’re ready to show why we came and why we are SuperM.

Baekhyun: That’s right.

Take us into your first practice session together as SuperM. What was it like?

Lucas: First time, it was a little bit awkward.

Taemin: Awkward!

Ten: Because we’ve never worked with the seniors in our company before, we didn’t know what was going to happen when we started practicing, right? First, the atmosphere was so tense, but then Baekhyun came in and he just kept making jokes about stuff and the fences just like dropped down. From then, we started to get to know each other for the first time.

Baekhyun: I think for us, we felt more comfortable working with them. Also, I was really curious what it would be like to work with the younger, more recently debuted groups. They were more innocent and cuter than I had thought originally! That kinda made me want to take them under my wing and helped us grow closer.

Lucas: And because the seniors kind of looked after us, we felt very comfortable and that was kind of what brought us all together.

How was “Jopping” selected as the lead single?

Mark: We chose “Jopping” because we believed that it had the potential to contain our performance in terms of our dynamics. The way we are as a team, we’re very diverse; we have a lot of talents all rolled in one. We felt that “Jopping” had the capability of holding all of those talents in one piece. We definitely knew that it was going to be the song that we were gonna release as our debut single, and through it we wanted to show our strong side and how strong we are together.

Taeyong: SMP!

Ten: SM Performance — ”Jopping” is in that category.

Taeyong, you helped write and compose “No Manners.” Where did you get the inspiration for that track?

Taeyong: I got the inspiration from it from the movie Sid & Nancy, which I mention in the lyrics. It’s about a couple that have a bad break up even though they’re so in love with each other. Just going off that, I kind of thought, rather than having the relationship end on such bad terms, like you ending up hating that person, maybe it’s actually better to cut it out... [Stops talking and turns to Baekhyun] How do I put it?

Baekhyun: Let me help you out. If the relationship hits rock bottom, you end up hating each other. Rather than letting each other be the worst ex you ever had, it’s sometimes necessary to break up cold turkey before you start hating each other. I think that’s the message of the song.

You’re embarking on a huge tour beginning in November! What are you looking forward to most about performing in the U.S.?

Taeyong, Taemin and Kai, singing: We are the future! [Writer’s note: This is a reference to the H.O.T song of the same name.]

Kai: Oh my God.

Mark: It’s our first tour as SuperM. We are all lovers of performing and so having a tour itself just excites all of us, but to excite as a whole team together is just a total different feeling and so we’re looking forward to it. We’re still rehearsing it; we haven’t fully finished preparing it, but we’re actually thinking about a lot of things that we can show the fans other than just the album. I feel like the fans would love seeing how we all kind of collaboratively work together and I think that’s the best part that we can show the fans from the tour, so I hope a lot of people come.

This tour will see the group performing at prestigious venues like Madison Square Garden, some members for the first time ever in the U.S. How does that feel?

Ten: For me, I’ve always wanted to come to the U.S. and do a tour, and this time I get a chance to work with my SuperM members.... I still can’t believe it that I’m getting to do this! I want to thank all the members for working hard for this opportunity and thank you to Soo-Man Lee [SM Entertainment founder and executive music producer of SuperM] for giving us this opportunity and Capitol for helping us. This show, it’s not just the team, we get to show our individual characteristics too.

What’s your goal for the future of SuperM?

Taeyong: I wish that people all around the world would get to know us, would like our music, and would get inspired by us.

Taemin: I agree and want to add that fans also inspire us. This give and take with the fans as they support SuperM, SuperM also reciprocates that to the fans and I just want it to continue.

With a Billboard No. 1 debut album, what’s the next goal for SuperM?

Taemin and Ten: Super Bowl!

Taeyong: To become the first Asian artist to perform at the Super Bowl Halftime show.

Kai: With Capitol…

Taemin: With Capitol’s support, we can do it!

Lucas: Yeah!

Baekhyun: Let’s go!

source: popcrush

[lunar-writings-love]

College!AU - Yeosang (ateez)

After a break (i’m still super sorry about that) I’m back with the series!! I said I’d do hongjoong second, but a lovely anon sent in a request asking for yeosang or wooyoung and i couldn't say no! 

Author’s Note: bullet fic

warnings: cussing?? ://

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yeosang: 

he’s so precious i love him gOD

anyways yeosangie is ,,, just such an interesting guy 

an enigma really 

everyone knows of him, but not many people know about him

he seemed to be everywhere at the university: in the dining halls, the library, his dorm room, the lounge, he was just ,,,

omnipresent 

everywhere you went ,, just ,, there he was

but because of that he became pretty popular 

he’s just such an easygoing guy and his sense of humor is honestly amazing

people loved to come up and talk to him

the cute english major with that old skateboard always glued to his side 

he truly was friends with everyone

the athletes, the bio majors, the humanities and arts kids, e v e r y o n e 

not to mention he was a major heartthrob 

but this dumbass ,,, never caught on 

girls and guys alike would come up and flirt to no end; asking for his number, help on understanding english for their assignments, how to skateboard,  e v e r y t h i n g ,, but yeosang was too pure for that 

he’d agree to all of it not knowing people’s ulterior motives 

so much that now a days all it took was one side glance from someone and wooyoung was already up and vowing to rip them a new one if they so much as even tried it with yeosang 

he was the members’ baby boy lmao rip jongho 

that being said ,,,

you knew who yeosang was

you and yeosang were never close or friends really, and you doubt he knew your name 

but you knew him because ,,,, i mean the man is gorgeous let’s not lie here your friends mentioned him at least a couple times a week 

and you appreciated the fact that he skateboarded everywhere

as an environmental science major, you can respect people who try to minimize their carbon footprint

so while he may have no idea who you were, it was still good to know that you weren’t alone because the catch was ,,

there was a mix-up in the system and you didn’t get to room with your friends

and at first you were kinda down because the girl randomly placed in your friends’ room refused to do a room mate switch, so you were just kinda stuck there 

but when the start of your second year came around you were relieved to see a familiar face as your neighbor ,, yeosang!1

he decided to room with wooyoung and san which didn’t come as a surprise to u because ,,, those three were joined at the hip 

and the girls you got placed with were both third years who you had never met before

they were nice and meant well, but you were so painfully shy and since the other two were already friends you felt awkward trying to place yourself into the mix

but alas , life goes on  

you developed a routine of waving and greeting yeosang in the morning since you both were cursed had 8 ams

a month into the quarter now and you fell into a nice and simple routine;

wake-up for your 8 ams, wanting to die as soon as you realized you only got 3 hours of sleep, get ready, see yeosang leaving his room also looking like he wants to die , greet him , get breakfast , sit through class, come back, sleep , repeat 

lIfE waS jUSt gReat:DDD

but college really do be like that sometimes

and what was even better !! was that one of your room mates had a boyfriend and liked having him over a lot 

which wasn't an issue and you supported her 

it’s just that ,,,, you wanted to stay in on fridays but she had asked you guys if she could have the room from 5-8 on friday nights because ,,,,

,,,,,,so every friday from 5 to 8 you would either watch netflix or study in your floor’s lounge, and because it was a friday night most people tended to go out so you didn’t mind much 

it did come as a surprise though, when one friday night yeosang joined you at around 6:30

he just smiled sheepishly “wooyoung has someone over”

you nodded in agreement 

“my room mate too”

then .// it was silent ,, both of you just kind of looking anywhere but each other

despite yeosang’s popularity, what people didn’t really know about yeosang was that the boy was also painfully shy and awkward much like a certain y/n

BUT HE WAS DOING HIS BEST

so he tried again “Soo what are you doing?”

you were surprised he wanted to continue talking to you 

“uhhhh just watching some demon slayer”

“bro no way i love that”

“wait really??! are you caught up on the manga?”

“hell yeah do you know what’s up with Tanjirou??”

and before you knew it, it was 9 at night and you had been talking to yeosang about everything and anything for almost 3 hours now 

you had been bLEssED 

then the time came when yeosang’s phone chimed ,, wooyoung was finally done sinning 

and it was time for him to go :////

“you’re y/n, right?”

“yep!”

“cool, I’m yeosang”

“right, i know that”

“....right”

then // it was silent yet again 

but the thing was , yeosang really liked you 

he didn't know your name, but he always thought his --always sleep deprived neighbor-- was super cute 

with your bedhead and 

groggy voice 

and sleepy smile 

ugh

 he really wanted to get to know you more 

but he figured it would’ve been awkward

so before he could lose all his courage yeosang practically yelled at you “DOYOUMaYBEwANNAGetsoMEcOFFEEsoMETIME??!/”

it took you a few seconds to process because hAHAHAH WHAT?!!?

but then you pulled yourself together like the responsible young adult you are and mustered 

“I’d love to, we can meet up next week when the new manga chapter drops?”

and then y’all were exchanging contacts and good nights 

and when he left you internally screamed 

what just happened??

did ,, THE kang yeosang ask u on a date??!?

was it even a date?!?

by the way yes it was 

SO THE FOLLOWING WEEK THERE YOU GUYS WERE 

at a cute coffee shop a couple of minutes off campus 

and the rest is history!!

you got to finally get close and get to know the strange and mysterious kang yeosang 

who wasn't really strange or mysterious at all, he was just a weeb a super cute and nice guy you were totally falling for 

y’all finally kissed on the third date after having an extensive conversation on the ending of naruto and because he’s a gentleman unlIKE his Mom SeonGhWA

and omg you guys were so cute 

he taught you how to skateboard

and you taught him how to be more environmentally conscious 

your dates included going to ramps on campus, attending environmental rallies, having him read english literature to you as you drifted off in sleep, 

and most of all /// lots and lots of crunchyroll premium 

that yeosang stole off of mingi poor boy didn’t even know 

BUT YEAH 

after that you met all the boys 

you already knew wooyoung and san, but you got really close to wooyoung because that ,, makes sense 

all the boys love you sm 

you were their baby 

uwu rip yeosang AND jongho 

and you loved all the members!

and on your two month anniversary, yeosang bought you two matching phone cases 

they were naruto ones 

he gave u sasuke and he kept sakura’s 

“wait why am i sasuke? wouldn’t it make more sense if i were sakura”

“don’t question it” he said as he slipped his phone into his case

sakura was his childhood crush and he wanted her phone case bAbY bOY

but anyways, yes // he was the sakura to your sasuke!

and wooyoung was naruto 

~~~~~~

Okay guys! hERE it finally is after like 5 months ....... I’m so sorry!!1 Hopefully you guys like this one! I’m kinda rusty but I’ll get back into writing!!! Thanks a lot for the love and support!! love you guys!!! <333

- Luna

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Captain America Vs. Superman  {Part 2}

Chris Evans X Reader X Henry Cavill

Warning: Cursing, Drug Use (Weed), Adult Suggestive Conversation

Word Count: 7.9K

Note: Guyyyyyyyyys! Aaaaah! I finally did a one shot. Holy S&*& me, a one shot. Alexa play “I’m Coming out.” Hope you guys enjoy this. It was inspired by this.

This will be posted in two parts as this has tipped into the 13k realm. Soo I guess that means it’s technically not a one shot then. Damn.

I know this is not what I should be working on, but I had this idea and had to get it out.

**Loosely edited**

**Loosely Proofread**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You were up by seven because of salacious dreams in anticipation of the evening ahead. You didn’t know what to do, so you did the only logical thing—cleaned. You cleaned your entire house from top to bottom and changed all the sheets, curtains, towels, and pillow coverings. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. From there you went to the market and picked up something for dinner and some flowers. When you returned, you began cooking, and you didn’t stop until you had more than enough food prepared.

  When it was all said and done, it was after twelve, and it was time for your waxing appointment. There was no way in hell you weren’t going to be perfectly groomed. It had been quite a while since you’d needed to think about getting a wax and you were a little embarrassed when the time came. You weren’t beastly, but you weren’t as smooth as a baby’s ass either. The entire time you tried your best to keep any anxieties at bay. You didn’t think about the possibilities or how it would go down and tried to ignore just how thirsty you were right now.

  By the time you made it home for the night, it was after five, and you felt renewed. After the wax, you went to the spa for a steam treatment and then got your hair done. Part of you felt stupid for doing it because you were about to sweat it out bad, or at least you hoped you were. You filled the rest of your time setting the mood throughout our home and making sure you smelled and looked fuckable. It had been a long time, yes, but you still knew how to seduce a man, tonight it would be two.

  When you saw the sun setting behind the palm trees, your anxiety hit high, and that was when you took out a blunt and sparked it up. You only meant to take a few puffs to take the edge off your nerves but when you heard your doorbell chime you were on your second one. You took three long puffs and held it closing your eyes to center yourself. It rang a second time, and you took up your drink and sank back into the chaise in the corner of the living room you’d set up and designated as your “Zen Lounge.”  You took up your phone and shot off a quick text to both of them.

  MSG: It's open.

  You dropped your phone on the cushions and spread the sheer robe you wore apart so it showcased the lingerie you’d picked up earlier. You then laid nonchalantly across the cushions. It was a bit much, but what the hell, the devil was in the details right. You heard the door open, and with it, your heartbeat sped. After a little while, you heard their footsteps approaching, and then you saw them turn the corner and come into view. Chris wore a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up, and charcoal grey khakis with none other than Nike sneakers. The man loved his sneakers. He was so chill, but so amazing you loved that about him. You looked over to Henry, and he wore a white button-down shirt with navy blue khakis and navy-blue loafers. He was so put together, so suave and you loved that about him. Not to mention the two were fine as hell.

 Henry and Chris stood there gawking at you no doubt shocked to see you like this. You took another drink from your glass of bourbon and sat there waiting for one of them or both of them to make a move. Chris looked to Henry, and Henry looked to Chris, and then they both looked back to you. They both took steps to you before they stopped at the foot of the chaise. They looked over you, and the heat of their gaze set you on fire. You bit your bottom lip, and the two of them split to either side of you.

 They both held a predatory look in their eyes, a look that made your mouth run dry. Before you could lift the glass again, Chris took it and raised it to his own lips and took a long sip as he stared into your eyes. You watched him swallow and wanted to be that bourbon badly, you wanted to be in his mouth. Chris held the glass out to Henry, who took it and did the same. Your attention shifted to him, and his eyes held you right where you were. God, they were sexy. You didn’t know if you could handle the two of them, but it was way too late to turn back. Henry held out the glass to you, and you took it and finished it. Chris took the glass and put it on a nearby table, but he stopped and didn’t move again.

   After a few minutes where nobody moved or spoke, you groaned loudly.

   “Oh, god! You can’t just stand there.”

   “I don’t know what to do,” Henry blurted.

  “Hell me either,” Chris admitted.

   You gaped at the two of them stunned silent.

   “Are you kidding me? You two have slept hundreds of women put together.”

   “Woah wait I don’t know about hundreds,” Henry said.

   “Yeah, I mean it’s been more than ten yeah, but definitely not hundreds,” Chris added.

   “Yeah same here, I’ve had my share of flings and things of the sort but hundreds is a bit of an exaggeration,” Henry continued.

  You couldn’t believe your ears. You’d told them you wanted them, made a plan for it, here was the night for it, you were dressed in a very sexy lingerie set with quite a bit of skin on display, and there they were debating you about their sexual history. You sighed out exasperatedly.

   “Jesus, the point is you’ve slept with women before, you know what to do, how to do it, so do it!”

   “Yeah we’ve slept with women before, and we know how to, but you’re different Y/N,” Chris began.

   “A hell of a lot different. This is different,” Henry emphasized.

   You looked between them and grasped their meaning. This was different. You were friends—best friends; you weren’t some random horny fan or some fling. You looked down, nodded, and rubbed your forehead.

   “Yeah, you’re right.”

   “Neither of us know how to be in this situation, we don’t want to overstep, or make a wrong move,” Chris finished.

   “Okay. I get it. I totally get it. Okay, so I’ll take lead. I mean this was my idea, after all. I’ll take lead.”

   You took another puff of your blunt and held it out to Chris. He took it and took a few puffs of his own before passing it off to Henry who echoed the actions. You took the reprieve to calm your nerves and get into character. You could do this; you were a woman for Christ’s sake.

“Sit. Help me finish this. We’re still us and weed is a part of this friendship,” you said.

   They both sat down at the foot of the chaise and passed the next fifteen minutes passing around the substance. The pressure was gone, the anxiety replaced by a feeling of ease when the jokes came out; heavy sighs replaced with buzzed giggles; awkwardness replaced with a feeling of normalcy. Weed was the best thing in the world, and you couldn’t understand why it was illegal. After the fifteen minutes and a round of drinks, you felt calmer and higher. You leaned back into the pillows and uncrossed your ankles and bent one of your legs.

   “Weed fixes everything.”

   You smiled and heard both of them snort.

  “You’re beautiful Y/N,” Henry muttered, his voice was deeper than usual, and it made you look to him.

   You saw heat hidden behind his eyes, and it was a heat you felt too. He’d called you beautiful before yes, but it was always in passing; “you look beautiful in that dress Y/N,” “you know you’re beautiful Y/N any man would be lucky to have you,” “yeah she’s beautiful but so are you.” They were all friendly; this felt different. You slowly licked your lips and smiled.

   “Thank you.”

   Chris leaned to your bent leg and placed a soft kiss on your knee all while never taking his eyes off you. You breathed out and tried to keep yourself in check. He kissed your knee again, but this kiss lingered and spanned the expanse of your knee. Each kiss lingered longer than the last, and when you felt the tip of his tongue against your skin, you shivered. Lord have mercy, you thought.

   As you focused on Chris’ kisses on your knee, you felt Henry’s hands on your ankle slowly kneading into your flesh. His touch erupted goosebumps across your skin. Henry moved his hand higher and caressed your calf and in the same breath lifted your leg and kissed the top of your foot. Your breath hitched on your breathy gasp. Feeling their lips on your skin in unison was something else entirely. Henry traveled his lips across your toes before his lips wrapped around your big toe and your head slightly dipped back. This must have been how guys felt during oral, you groaned and enjoyed the complex feelings coursing through you.

   Chris’ lips were now just above your knee as Henry worked his way up your leg. Soon both of their lips touched your thighs, one on your inner thigh and the other your outer. You moaned and arched your back, allowing yourself to get lost in the pleasure. Chris’ lips left your thigh and moved to your arm. He traced kisses up your arm, making his way to your shoulder. Who knew innocent kisses could have such a sultry effect. Henry stopped just at your mid-thigh and looked to you. You caught your breath and looked at their faces that were mere inches from yours. The feeling was overwhelming, so you didn’t fight it. You quickly crashed your lips to Henry’s in your first ever kiss, and it was incredible. You felt his tongue dip into your mouth, and it was then he stole your breath. God, he could kiss.

   You bit his lip and softly nibbled it. Henry groaned on your lips, but that only made you want more. You tore your lips from his and pulled Chris’ to yours and kissed him with all the desire you felt. You both moaned as Henry kissed your neck at the exact spot that you loved. Chris took control of the kiss and teased your tongue in a slow dance. Your heart quickened, and before you knew it, Henry’s lips were now on your exposed shoulder. The sheer kimono robe you wore before was pooled around your waist. His lips dipped to your collar before he and Chris switched. Chris dropped his lips to the top of your breast as Henry pulled you into another heated kiss. Before long the three of you were exchanging kisses and while they took turns pleasing your skin. The only sound in the house was that of your shared moans.

   With one hand laced in Henry’s curly hair and the other threaded through Chris’ tresses, you were leaned back on the chaise enjoying their lips working together against your skin. Chris was focused on kissing, licking, and sucking the top of your breast, while Henry was focused on searing your neck with his hot lips. It was then you knew you couldn’t take much more teasing—you needed more. You sat up, forcing their lips to stop. You kissed Chris then Henry and began pulling at Chris’ shirt. You pulled it over his head and allowed the fabric to drop to the floor. You looked over his exposed skin and bit your bottom lip. He was gorgeous!

   You kissed Chris again this time ensuring he understood how much you wanted him. You tore your lips from his and moved to Henry and began working on the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers deftly made quick work of them revealing his chiseled and hairy chest to you. You groaned and kissed him with renewed fire. Chris kissed your shoulder again and caressed your hair softly. You kept your hand on both their chest and felt the rapid beating of their hearts. It seemed you were affecting them just as much as they were affecting you. That knowledge was enough for you to be ready to get a lot more comfortable.

   You pulled your lips from Henry’s and looked at the both of them panting. Their lips were red and swollen from your kisses, and their eyes were glazed from their passion. You tried to catch your breath, but it was next to impossible given everything you were currently feeling.

   “Did we do something wrong?”

   You shook your head at Chris’ question.

   “Not at all. Just—let’s move this to the bedroom,” you suggested.

   They both nodded and stood holding their hands out to you. You smiled and placed your hand in theirs and allowed them to pull you off the chaise. You stood there and for the first time practically naked. You watched as their eyes swept over your figure. Their gaze further set your skin on fire, and it sped your heart. You turned and led them to the steps and up to your bedroom. As you walked up the stairs, you felt their eyes on you, and that gave you the confidence you needed.

  You walked into your bedroom, and the scent of lavender, roses, and freesia rolled out the room. You’d spent a lot of time sexing up your bedroom, you changed the sheets, placed tens of candles around the room and added several bouquets of your favorite flowers, changing the drapes that hung around your canopy bed and ensuring all the tealights you already had set around your room were in good standing. You took a glance around the room smirking at your handiwork; it looked like Mata Hari’s boudoir. You lined Chris and Henry before the foot of your bed and stepped back a few feet.

   For the first time, you were on full display for them.

   “Wow,” Chris gaped, his mouth slightly ajar. You could see the look in his eye, and it made you feel like you were the only one he’d ever had eyes for. You smiled and bit your bottom lip.

   “Turn for us,” Henry requested.

   You slowly twirled in a circle giving them the full effect of your efforts of the day and full view of the lingerie. When your back was turned, you heard both of them take a sharp breath in. You bit harder onto your bottom lip trying to stop the quiver. Once you faced them again, you approached slowly. You traced your fingers down the center of both their chests until they reached the waist of their pants. Before you could make any move, they moved.

   Chris wrapped an arm around your waist and stood behind you and nibbled across the skin that connected your shoulder and neck. You melted against his strong chest and sighed out. With his own hand resting on your hip, Henry cupped your jaw and brought your lips to his, sealing them in a passionate kiss.

You couldn’t focus on one thing because the pleasure Chris brought at your neck was distracting from the desire building in you from Henry’s fevered kiss. You felt Henry forcefully squeeze your hip and pull you closer to his body deepening the kiss. With your body crushed to his, you felt his arousal press against you. You moaned loudly and dropped your hand to his backside and squeezed pulling him more against you. God, he had an incredible ass, you thought. Chris pressed his body to yours, and you felt his hardened length press against you. You moaned again, eager anticipation filling you.

  Chris’ lips moved his lips from your neck to your shoulder and back to your shoulder blade. You felt the dizzying pattern of his finger across your stomach. His finger slipped between the intricate straps of the lingerie before he snapped it against your skin. You groaned and leaned your head back, relishing the feelings they both were giving you.

   Henry traveled across your chest, paying special attention to the skin between your breasts before placing soft kisses over the swell of each breast. He attached his teeth on one of the straps at the top of your breast and snapped it across your skin. It was as if they were mentally communicating with each other coming up with ways to tease you more. Chris’ lips kissed across your back across the buckles of the lingerie and down the center of your spin. He stopped at your tailbone, and it was then you felt the tip of his tongue trace the same path his lips did back to your neck. Once there he forcefully bit you and sucked the skin into his mouth. You couldn’t control the gasp and loud moan that escaped your lips. Henry’s lips moved inward to your nipple, and you felt his hot mouth enclose it over the satin material. You moaned again and sank your fingers in his hair, tousling it further.

   You knew this wasn’t enough you needed more; you needed to be free of the material to feel his lips properly. As if he could hear your thoughts, he gently bit your nipple before moving further down your abdomen. Once his lips met the sliver of skin at your hipbone, you heard his husky moan and felt his hand snake around to your ass and squeeze.

   “Mmmm!”

  You felt Chris’ length jump and pulse against your backside, instinctively you brought one of your hands back to connect at the back of his neck to bring his lips back to your neck. He obliged and sucked the skin into his mouth again while Henry kissed across your thighs that were exposed under the still connected garter. You were beginning to wish you’d chosen a different piece of lingerie. Henry stood and gazed into your eyes with his desire changed orbs. His eyes were darker and deeper and ten times more hypnotizing. You bit your bottom lip again and crashed your lips to his.

   Taking control of the kiss, you quickly moved your lips over his teasing and tempting him mercilessly. Henry once again brought his hand back to your ass and gently squeezed at the same time Chris cupped your breast. You moaned on Henry’s lips, and it was as if a dam had broken. You dropped your hand to the front of Henry’s pants and nearly lost your mind to find him rock hard and more than lightly blessed by the lord above. You rubbed your hand against his hardness and marveled at its thickness. Henry groaned and squeezed your skin more firmly. You dropped your hand behind you to do the same to Chris. What you found made your knees buckle. Neither of them allowed you to fall though. He was intimidatingly long; you could feel the heat radiating off him. You rubbed against him, tearing a throaty groan from his lips. He pressed further onto your ass, allowing you to fully feel how blessed he was.

   “Fuck!” you panted out.

   They both stopped and looked at each other. You wondered if they’d made some sort of plan beforehand. Their eyes dropped to you before they slowly backed you to your bed. You felt your heart begin to race as this was the point of no return. You couldn’t calm the nerves you felt, you were about to have sex with your two best friends, and that realization was huge. You felt the soft mattress against the backs of your thighs and dropped to sit. You looked at the two shirtless gods before you, and you felt your core quiver. Neither of them spoke, they were giving you a chance to back out, or dictate. You weren’t going to back out; there was no way.  You knew what to do.

   You slid back onto the bed until you were sure they had enough space to join you. Henry and Chris looked at each other and then knelt on the bed to you. They looked down at you briefly before Chris dropped his lips to yours kissing you passionately and intently. Henry nibbled your earlobe and slicked his tongue over the shell of your ear. When Chris’ lips descended to your collar, Henry wasted no time kissing you with just as much passion. They were two separate men with evident differences, and their kisses weren’t any exception. While Henry’s kisses were tender and passionate you felt the gentleness of his character shine through it; Chris’ were just as tender and passionate, but they were also forceful and always had a way of dragging out your own deep desires. You could taste his need and feel so much. They were equally great kissers.

   Their lips moved down opposite sides of your body, across the exposed skin at the top of your breasts, over each nipple, down your rib cage, across the soft flesh of your abdomen, dipping to your hips and the tops of your thighs. You felt the snap of your garter and felt them both slowly pull the stocking down your thigh. Where the stocking revealed new skin, their lips took advantage, dropping sloppy kisses and needy nibbles. Each kiss, lick, nibble, and suck had you arching your back off the bed and your head backward. Your skin was on fire, your heart pounding and the need in your belly intensifying. Henry pulled the stocking further down and kissed across your calf, but Chris had only reached your inner thigh. He bit the flesh and sucked it into his mouth, and you felt the first stirs of your release.

   “Shit!”

   You couldn’t believe you were there already; they hadn’t even done much. Henry pulled the remainder of the stocking off your leg and kissed along your foot before putting your big toe into his mouth. You groaned and grabbed your breasts, kneading them of your own volition. When Chris joined in on the torture, you were a moaning and writhing mess. Watching them in action was a memory you wanted to sear into your mind so you could revisit on a cold night. You didn’t know how much more you could take you were quickly venturing out the realm of desire to thirsty need.

   You pulled your feet from them and sprang to your knees. They were still taller than you, but you didn’t let it deter your intent. You kissed Henry, then Chris and back to Henry before you finished with Chris. Your hands trailed down their chest and stopped at the waist of their pants. You sucked your bottom lip glancing down at the evidence of how much they wanted you while fighting the urge to lick your lips. You looked back at them and smiled.

   “Stand up.”

   They stood at the foot of the bed as you moved to sit before them. You didn’t move, you sat there and thought about how you wanted to approach the six-course meals in front of you. After a few moments, you stood and walked behind both of them trailing your finger across their bodies. You mentally thanked their productions for them maintaining their bodies because all the muscle before you was making your hungry. You stopped between them, loving that their eyes never left you. You leaned to Chris and kissed his chest softly. You moved your lips down to a pert nipple and slowly licked around the hardened flesh, ensuring to take your time. You then sucked it into your mouth and nibbled it between your teeth. Chris groaned, and you could hear the difference in his heartbeat. You dropped your lips down and kissed each ab muscle until you reached the top of his pants and the delicious oblique indentations that drove women stupid.

   You kissed and trailed your tongue along his skin, savoring the smooth feel of him. You felt the lurch of his length against your shoulder and prompting you to look up to him. his eyes were bright blue and fully focused on you and spoke of yearning. You pulled back and unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, as you pulled it lower you took notice of the struggle to pull them past his need. That was when you licked your lips; Chris’ hips pumped forward nearly nudging his member on your chin. You wasted no time pulling them down and off him.

   You could feel Henry's eyes boring into you, you stood, kissed Chris again and turned to Henry. You nibbled his bottom lip before tracing your tongue along them. Without warning, he engulfed your lips with his and kissed you. Soon he’d accomplished distracting you from your plan, and you marveled at the power of his kiss. You reluctantly tore your lips from his and trailed kisses across his chest, making your way to his nipple and teasing them as he’d done to you. You felt his body tense, and you smiled on his skin then trailed lower across each of his abs to the same mind-numbing indentations. You loved the hair decorating his skin. As you kissed the indentations, you worked at his belt and pants, pulling them down and off. You looked over him and then back to Chris. He held out his hand for you, and you took it.

   Henry moved to your back and continued placing kisses on your skin. Chris captured your lips with his, and you allowed yourself to get lost in all you’d felt for the last several months. You allowed yourself to enjoy the feel of their lips on you and their bodies curving into your curves. You walked to the bed and pushed them onto the mattress. When you looked down to them, they were both arched on their elbows watching you intently. You walked to the sound system console on the wall and pressed play on the premade playlist. Soft and sultry sounds filled the room; you closed your eyes and took a beat to let the music flood over you.

   When you walked back to the bed, you stood before them and began unhooking the intricate straps of the lingerie you wore. Each slow movement kept their attention, and you loved the feel of them watching you. Normally you were a little self-conscious of your body and didn’t really like the attention, but with them it was different. You knew they hadn’t dated anyone with curves like yours before, but you never felt as if you didn’t measure up to women from their past. Here and now you felt confident and sexy.

   You moved your hands to your back and unbuckled the bra. The material was already molded to your breasts, so it didn’t budge. As you looked at them, you could tell they were both holding their breath. You wished you could hear their thoughts. You lowered the straps off your shoulders and just as it was about to slip you gripped it keeping it in place. You heard a sharp inhale from both of them and smiled.

   “Always knew you were a tease,” Chris expressed.

   You smiled wider and swayed your hips to the sound of FKA Twigs.

   “Me a tease?”

   You smiled and feigned your best faux shock face. They smiled and shook their heads.

   “I haven’t even begun to tease you,” you informed with a mischievous smirk.

   “What do you want me to let this fall?”

   Henry licked his lips glancing over your body, while Chris didn’t answer, he kept a tight clench in his jaw. You knew just what he wanted—what they both wanted.

   “As you wish.”

  You released the satin and lace lingerie, and it fell from your upper body and hung around your waist.

  “My god,” Chris panted out.

   You rotated your hips again to the sway of the music and hooked your thumbs into the straps at your hips and slowly peeled it off all the while looking deeply into their eyes. Once fully free from the material you kicked it to the side and stood there completely bare, allowing them to look their fill. Neither of them spoke or moved; they just laid there, darting their eyes across every inch of your exposed skin.

   “Turn for me Y/N,” Chris requested.

   You smiled; you knew just what he liked. You turned your back and gave him his first sight of your bare ass. Chris was an ass man after all. You’d known it for a long time and happily obliged giving him the view of what he liked the most.

   “God, you’re perfect,” Henry complimented.

   You turned and approached them. You couldn’t decide who to go to first, it was the hardest decision. You looked into their eyes and saw equal amounts of desire and passion. They both sat up and went for your breasts. Their lips attached around your nipple and sucked.

   “Oh my god.”

   You knelt there allowing them to please you enjoying every second of it. The feel of their mouths working different patterns and suctions was working wonders, and you felt that orgasm stir to life again. Chris’ hand crept around to your backside, and he softly caressed it before he squeezed it. You moaned and dropped your head back, letting your eyes lull closed to enhance the sensations. Chris nibbled your nipple softly then more forcefully while Henry took a softer, gentler approach, but then they switched. For the next several minutes, you enjoyed the fluctuations and differences of their mouth and fell deeper and deeper into the pit of your own need and desire. You leaned back, forcing your breast to slip from their lips with a loud, wet “plop.”

   Pushing them onto their backs yet again you nestled between them and dropped a kiss to Chris and then to Henry. You moved your slips down to his neck and sucked as your hand caressed Chris’ chest and nipples. You moved lower across Henry’s abs and to his hip. You then switched to echo the same actions to Chris’ body. When you made it to his hip, he’d become squirmy. You sat up and back onto your legs and looked to them.

   “Off,” you ordered.

  Grasping your meaning both men stood on your bed and slowly peeled off their boxer-briefs. You saw the sprigs of rust-colored hair peeking atop Chris’s underwear and bit your bottom lip in anticipation of the big reveal, but he didn’t move. You looked to Henry and saw dark hair peeking out. When you noticed neither moved, you looked into their eyes and smiled at their attempt to take control back.

   “You want it; you take it off,” Henry said.

   You smiled. That was unexpected, you thought. You trailed your hand up their legs, over their knees, to their thighs and gripped the waistband of the material and slowly pulled them lower. Each agonizing inch made your anticipation raise that much more. The garment nudged on their thickness, and you licked your lips. Tired of the tease you pulled the material down and widened your eyes in shock when their lengths flopped free and bobbed out to you offering everything they possessed. You sat there, taking your time to admire their beauty. When you approached Henry, he hopped off the bed followed by Chris. You looked at the two of them unsure what they were doing.

  “Lie down.”

   You raised an eyebrow at Chris’ order and smiled. You lied across the bed, your head facing Henry and your legs at Chris. Henry dipped down and kissed you his top lip lining up with your bottom one. You’d never been kissed upside down before, but it may very well be how you wanted to be kissed from now on. You felt Chris kiss across your feet before he moved up your legs and thighs. You felt him slide open your legs before he groaned.

   “God Y/N, you’re beautiful!”

   He dropped down and kissed your inner thigh then the other and finally kissing the top of pubis. After a slight pause, you felt his lips drop a kiss on your clit. You gasped in and arched your back off the bed, Henry’s kiss stole the sound. Chris kissed your aching bud again and again, each time he added more and more suction. You moaned and gripped the sheets on the bed, crumpling them within your fists. Henry hovered over your body and took your nipple in his mouth yet again. This time he wasn’t gentle, and you were glad for it you needed more. He licked, sucked and nibbled forcefully and rolled your nipple between his teeth. The action sent shivers across your skin. The havoc Chris was wreaking between your legs coupled with Henry's sublime torture on your breasts you finally felt the sudden and toe-curling push over the edge. Your breathing quickened, your pulse raced, your mouth went dry, your vision blurred, and the rapid flick of Chris’ tongue across your aching need was the last thing you needed.

    “Oh my god, oh Chris, yes, yes!”

   Chris attached his lips to your sex and sucked forcefully ripping and strangled high pitched scream from your throat. A scream that was prolonged ever second both of these delicious men continued the expert manipulation of their mouth. After what felt like hours, Chris pulled his mouth from you and trailed kissed up your stomach until he kissed you, letting you taste yourself.

   “Mmmm, you taste so good Y/N. I love your taste.”

   You were in so much of a daze you didn’t realize Henry moved from above your head until you felt him kiss your inner thigh. You moaned and tried to arch onto your elbows, but your energy was drained. You bit Chris’ lip, and he pulled away to kiss on your neck. Henry trailed kissed down your thigh while Chris took his position above your head. You looked up and saw his hardness. Your mouth watered to taste him. You smiled and made an effort to move.

   You rolled onto your stomach and rose to your knees. You looked back to Henry whose eyes were glued to your ass. You arched your back and bit your bottom lip. He quickly looked to you, and it was then you winked. Turning back to Chris, you looked into his eyes; he looked scared knowing he was at your mercy.

   “Have you imagined this?”

  A smile teased his lips.

   “Are you asking me if I’ve imagined you like this or--,” Chris trailed off.

   “Or imagined me giving you the best head of your life,” you filled in.

   He smiled wider, and you took that as your answer. He totally had. You wasted no time and tipped your tongue out to lick the underside of his length. He moaned deeply, and when your tongue rolled around his tip, he sucked in a breath and groaned.

   “Jesus.”

   Henry took that moment to softly kiss over each swell of your backside and lower his mouth to your core. You gasped at the unexpected touch and took your, mouth from Chris’ skin momentarily. You were still sensitive, but it didn’t seem as if he cared. Henry sucked your lips into his mouth, letting out several slurping sounds. You groaned and shivered at how good it felt.  You closed your eyes and allowed the pleasure to roll through you. He was unrelenting and setting the pace, letting you know just how much he wanted you.

   “You’re right, Chris. You taste incredible.”

   You slowly inched your mouth onto his hardness taking care not to touch him. Once you’d reached a little more than halfway down, you clamped your lips around him and sucked. You moaned. Chris’ hands flew to your shoulders and gripped them. You slowly worked his flesh adding little tongue swirls along the way. Each time your mouth dipped lower onto his shaft, Chris groaned and squeezed your shoulders. Before you knew it, his hand had made it to your head to lace in your hair. Your moans and Chris’ moans sounded in the room. Several times you had to stop unable to breath, moan, and suck at the same time. Henry was going to town. You felt his mouth at your second entrance, and you threw your head back and screeched.

   “Fuck, fuck fuck!”

   Chris didn’t wait, he slipped his length back into your mouth and thrust forward then backward again and again. As Henry sped up his tongue work, Chris also sped his strokes. You tried to keep up the best you could and struggled for a few moments. Henry was making you feel too good to focus. You wrapped your hand around Chris’ shaft and pumped your fist up and down, gradually increasing your pace. You did your best to focus so you could bring Chris the same pleasure he’d brought you. You worked his member using your hands and mouth simultaneously. You suddenly dropped your hand to caress his balls and sunk your mouth further taking his full length.

   “Shit!”

  Chris groaned loudly and pulled himself from your lips with a loud “pop.” You watched him squeeze himself as he stood back from your reach. You smiled, but only for a second, you felt your second release claim you forcing you to drop your head to the bed and scream into the mattress. Henry stood and watched you sprawled across the bed panting heavily. You tried to catch your breath, but your entire body was on fire, and you wanted more.

   “Tapping out?” Henry asked.

   You laughed to yourself and turned onto your back to look up at him.

   “Not a chance, I’m still hungry!”

   You sat up and turned to him lying on your stomach. You gripped him smiling when your hand couldn’t fit around his throbbing heat. Henry groaned and lurched his hips forward, brushing the velvet tip to against your lips. You could taste his complex taste smeared across your lips. You licked your lips and moaned. You kissed his tip and swirled your tongue around him. He groaned softly before you pulled him into your mouth. Your lips stretched almost to capacity, and you moaned feeling a renewed passion. You sped up your lips and focused on the moans and shivers coming from him. Chris kissed your back gently, then kneaded into the flesh of your backside. You heard him grunt and pant as he admired the plump swell of your behind.

   “You’re truly perfect,” Chris whispered into your ear before kissing it and trailing his lips down to your shoulder.

   You took Henry into your mouth as far as you could and struggled because of how thick he was. He began pumping your mouth before his hands connected with the back of your head, guiding you how he liked. It didn’t take him long to pull himself from your mouth. You wiped your chin and looked at him then back to Chris. He walked around to stand beside Henry, and you licked your lips loving the sight of both of them before you. You laid back on the bed and slide to the headboard. Once there, you beckoned them closer. They both climbed onto the bed and crawled to you. Chris took his place before you while Henry went to your side.

   “Superman Vs. Captain America, let’s settle it once and for all,” you teased.

    They both smiled. Chris gripped your ankles and pulled you to him. You allowed your legs to drop to the bed granting him access between your legs.

   “You’re sure about this?”

   You sucked your bottom lip and nodded enthusiastically. He moved to you and kissed you once, twice, and a third time. You pulled Henry to your lips and kissed him before pulling his head to your breasts. You looked to Chris and saw he took the time to sheath himself with the condom you’d placed on the nightstand. He stared into your eyes silently asking you again. You bit your bottom lip, looked down to his length, and waited. Chris settled between your legs and slowly thrust forward slipping the tip of his need into your heat. You sucked in a breath and arched your back off the bed, never breaking the eye contact with him. He slipped several more inches in and then a few more. The feel of him sinking into you, stretching you was amazing, better than you’d ever imagined. You panted and crashed your lips to Henry’s. His kiss soaked up every moan, whimper and groan you let out.

   Once Chris was deep inside you, the look on his face was one of pain, but sheer pleasure. You groaned again. Chris hovered over you slightly and slowly pumped into you. His thrusts sped up until the sound of your wetness and his flesh was echoing in your room. You moaned and held onto his forearm. Your mind kept wandering to amazement that this was actually happening, and it was everything. Henry dipped his hand between your legs and strummed your pearl inching you closer and closer to the edge.

    “God, you’re tight!”

“You feel so good,” you panted out before you took Henry’s length into your mouth again.

   You were enjoying the feel of Chris between your legs and Henry in your mouth. The faster Chris thrusted, the faster your mouth worked around Henry. When you felt as if you couldn’t catch a breath Chris sunk into you again stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves within you. You clenched around him and tore your lips from Henry’s member to let out a loud moan as you came around him. Chris never slowed his strokes; he kept the same unrelenting pace that you were becoming addicted to.

   Suddenly Chris pulled from your heat and looked to Henry. Henry pulled himself free from your lips and switched places with Chris. Before he settled between your legs, he dropped down and placed a kiss on your slit, and the trailed his tongue, tasting your juices. He nudged his tip into you, and you sucked in a breath already feeling the stretch. He looked at you searching for any sign you wanted him to stop, but you didn’t speak. Instead, you touched his hand that gripped your waist, encouraging him to continue. He thrust forward again and sunk more into you. His moans increased, and you squeezed his hand. Each delicious inch he sunk in made you spread your legs further and further apart until you had nowhere else to go. Then needing more, you pulled the condom off of Chris and sucked him into your mouth.

   You decided to use the need and pleasure coursing through you as fuel to bring Chris to his knees. Feeling all of Henry inside of you; you began to work your hips to meet his thrusts, each time you met him halfway, you watched him clench his jaw. Each time he pulled out, you clenched around him; the combination was enough to make him quake. His body shook every time, and by the way he clenched his jaw you knew he was close. You moaned on Chris’ member and allowed him to slip it further down your throat. You did your best to fight your gag and clenched your throat around him. Chris loudly groaned and held your head in place so he could quickly thrust in and out of your wet mouth. You opened your throat so he could freely slip as far as he needed, and he welcomed the new freedom. He grunted each time the tip of his cock nudged your tonsil and each time he did you moaned making the vibration of your moan inch him closer to his release.

   You felt Henry’s body shake and heard a loud grunt before his thrusts became sloppy. Chris followed suit. You clenched around Henry and knew you were close too.

   “Uuugh Y/N,” panted Henry.

   Then your orgasm took over, forcing your back off the bed and making you clamp your lips firmly around Chris. He groaned loudly, and you felt the hot spurts hit the back of your throat, coating it. Henry wasn’t too far behind with his release, he thrust forward twice more and buried himself deep within you to release his essence. Henry collapsed on top of you as Chris dropped to the bed. The three of you moaned and panted as you slowly came down from your high, slowly your both stopped shaking, and your core stopped clenching. Henry kissed your stomach and up your breasts to your lips. You both moaned into the kiss. You were exhausted and completely satiated, but you still wanted more. You delved your tongue into Henry's mouth and moaned as you intensified the kiss. You felt Henry slowly begin to harden inside you before he pulled his lips from yours and dropped his forehead to your sternum.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me Y/N,” Henry muttered.

   You snorted and turned to Chris, whose head was beside you his head facing the slope of your breast. He kissed the side of your breast and up to your lips. From the start, this kiss was intense. You moaned and instinctively clenched around Henry’s still buried member. He groaned and thrust forward forcing another moan from your lips. You moved your hand to Chris’ cock and felt he was already beginning to come alive again. You smiled on his lips and laughed.

   “Jesus,” Chris said.

   The three of you laughed together for several minutes. Henry slipped from inside you, removed the condom, and dropped next to you. Chris turned his body so his head was beside you, and the three of you sighed. Henry kissed your cheek, and Chris kissed your temple. You smiled, staring up at the ceiling. You were utterly content, and you felt one hundred percent adored. It was better than you’d expected.

   “Wow,” Chris said.

   You nodded.

   “You can say that again.”

   “Wow,” Henry repeated.

   You snorted and laughed; you felt lighter than you had in months, it was as if the stress, anxiety, and tension your body had held on to had evaporated and drifted away.

  “God, that was incredible,” Chris continued.

   “Makes you wonder if we should have done this long time ago, huh.”

   Henry smiled at your comment and shook his head.

   “I think it happened at the right time.”

   You bit your bottom lip, and you agreed.

   “Guess the only thing left is an answer,” Chris said, turning to you.

  You quizzically looked at him, trying to grasp his meaning. Henry turned his body to yours as well looking at you expectantly.

   “An answer to what?”

   “Captain America or Superman?”

   You widened your eyes at Chris and his question and pinched your lips together stifling a laugh.

   “You’re not serious.”

   “Man of Steel--,” Henry began before Chris cut him off.

   “Or America’s ass?”

   You snorted and laughed loudly, unable to hold back anymore. They couldn’t be serious. You looked between them and saw their straight faces and knew they were serious. Your laughter died down as you tried to form an answer.

   “Unfortunately, I need more than one round to logically and confidently answer that question.”

   You smiled widely and looked at the two of them who mirrored your smile. You felt like a little girl again all bubbly and giggly, and you loved this feeling.

   “Round two, huh.”

 You licked your lips and sucked your bottom lip. Henry and Chris looked at each other before they both shrugged.

   “Hope you know what you’re asking for,” Henry teased.

   “I hope you can keep up.”

   They smiled, and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered again in anticipation for what you were sure would be a long, loud, pleasure-filled night.

The End

TagList:

@sarahboseman  @texasbama @heyauntieeee @airis-paris14 @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandas-vibranium @wakanda-inspired @theunsweetenedtruth @ashanti-notthesinger @reignsxjackson @halfrican-heat @ambthegamer @simplyyamberr @dramaqueenamby @muse-of-mbaku @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @stressedgyal @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219  @destinio1 @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @blowmymbackout @purplehairgawdess @thehuntoyobun @wakandamama @wakandawinning @profilia @zxddy-panther @h-challa @babygirlofwakanda @misswakanda2018 @ororowrites @hutchj @myfavemarvelfanfics @lavitabella87 @afraiddreamingandloving @autumn242 @purple-apricots @skysynclair19 @hersheyskissesss @blue-ishx @blublubleu @90sinspiredgirl  @tchallaswife @tchallamakesmeh0lla @turn-thy-paige @blackchickfics @blackpantherismyish @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @naturally-bri @flawlesslybeautiful14 @qweentbh @lunaerly @theoutereffect @twilight-sapphire-lover @pupyluv247 @stark-red19 @cockyboysandsugarism @maverickabull @madbadsiren @aykanna @myaw731 @ruruly20 @mixedmelanin @brittyevans @bezzywazhere @laketaj24    @taint3dvirgin @soulsparker @theresnomoregoodones @syreanne @loveandcigarillos  @heyauntieeee @heybriheyyy @wakanda-bcth @uhlxis  @maliadestiny @dadinhas-heat @yaachtynoboat711 @geeksareunique @bultalongthewayside @ajspencer1892 @captiansaveasmut @imaginewhoever @terrablaze514 @starsshines-blog @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @darkandlovely94 @sithlordslut @wavyyc @naturalistamisslyn @nigarachi15 @madamslayy @blackandfair @kreolemami @mylastnameisthe-fish @kaykay0829 @chaneajoyyy @tequilajay27 @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @slimmiyagi @im5ftbutmythroat66 @jaeee-http @madhatterhelsing @sunflowerpsalms @wakanda-shit-is-that @deliciousstreetkidcroissant @jecourt @vebner37 @disneysdarlingdiva @melaninmarvel @alanastormborn @dolphinpink310 @wonderbell @ohleucothea @queentearra @bitchbetterhavemydinner @fentybabyy @kaykay4454fan @priya212 @kitkit1690 @chrismarcs @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @blackpantherimagines @ovohanna24 @sweetpeachjones @kslo000 @nubian-queen18 @omgsuperstarg   @airis-paris14 @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @stressedgyal @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219  @destinio1 @drsunshine97  @blue-ishx @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @prettyprincessushio @treeondrea  @ursapharoh05  @blackpinup22 @kaytauru @big3gocandykahn @kissingpineapples @ilcb7 @wildaboutchrisevans @dadinhas-heat  @fitfineandstayingalive @misspooh @michele-onel @gorjiss @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @muva-milaje @limbo-limbo-limbo @awkwardlyabstract @blxck-brxndie @chrismarcs @meeky-imagines @inlovewith3 @metalarmlover @mellowjellow6 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @sweettea-and-honeybutter @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @ursapharoh05 @treeondrea @ovohanna24 @marvelheaux @romanceoftheeveryday @mufasathatniggatho @cltex84 @sweetbearcolorgarden @msincognito67 @blackpantherimagines @mosagram @lunaerly @mar-ta-3 @ljstraightnochaser @lewatigress @akimi-youngblood @beezywazhere @bekahdean87 @teechallas-blog @jasmindaughteroftheworld @cocooned-butterfly @emoniclark22 @chereedrop619 @theblulife @niggarachi15 @drsunshine97 @ursapharoh05 @msincognito67 @missdeerstalker15 @wakandamama @great-neckpectations @stressedgyal @avenger-marvel-fan @arieljamiyla @avenger-marvel-fan @vibranium-soul @monae-boss @queenxchallaxkillamonger @amirra88 @ jaeee-http @omg-itsnadi @fonville-designs @sydneebleu

[gimmesumsuga]

Orectic (M)

Orectic (adj) - ‘of or concerning desire or appetite’ 

Pairing: Hoseok x hybrid!reader

Warnings: Gratuitous, tooth-rotting fluff.  Smut; kissing, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected penetrative sex, ?breeding kink if you squint hard enough.  

Word count: 21K

Thank you @yminie for my beautiful moodboard!

“It'll just be for the week, and it isn’t like you guys haven’t spent any time together by yourselves before!”

It'd seemed like a harmless enough request when Jung Hoseok’s sister had first called him to request he come play sitter for the week; an opportunity to make some quick, easy cash during the winter months when attendance to the dance classes he taught inevitably started to wane.  

“C’mon, it'll be fine!”

Sitting was probably the wrong word for it, anyway.  You weren't so much a pet; his elder sibling had always been very firm on that matter from the very second she'd first brought you home. You were a companion, a confidant - a best friend who just so happened to be blessed with pointed feline ears, a sleek, silken tail, and a propensity for jumping three foot in the air whenever you turn around to find a well-placed snake-come-cucumber that Hobi may or may not have planted there a few minutes earlier.  

Yes, you may have a complete and utter dependence on your guardian to keep a roof over your head and food on the table, but that's not your fault.  And it's not as though his sister is wrong; the two of you do get on.  

Well… at least these days you do.  

When the two of you had first met over a year ago you'd been incredibly wary of him, to begin with; almost to the point where you'd visibly flinch whenever he dare address you or if he ever sat just that little bit too close.  Your history hadn't been disclosed by the shelter when his sister had offered you a home, but it didn't take a genius to take a guess as to why you might be so nervous at having an unfamiliar male in your home.  

While the practice has recently been made illegal, sexual exploitation remains a grotesque and unfortunate reality for all too many hybrids since they were created less than half a century ago, and it’s something you’ve remained resolutely silent about regardless of the gentle questioning Hoseok's sister has put you through.  It breaks his heart to think that that might’ve been something that you’d had to face in the past, but if it was something you’d been subjected to, you sure as hell don’t seem about to admit it.  

So, without a legitimate excuse with which to refuse his sister's pleading request, Hobi finds himself agreeing to keep you company for the coming week ahead.  It's been a while since you've seen each other so he knows you'll probably take a little while to warm up to him again, but that's ok; he's always been the patient sort.  There’s always the catnip he’s stashed in the bottom of his overnight bag, too, should the situation ever be so dire that it’s needed.

The journey to his sister's place doesn't take too long - half an hour, give or take - and along the way Hobi isn't ignorant to the lift in his mood with every mile that passes.  He'll never say it out loud, but ever since his old housemate Yoongi moved out (a convenience thing, rather than any ill-feeling between the two of them) the apartment has felt far too quiet.  It'll be nice to have someone to spend some time with; something to break up the monotony of his ever-present thoughts.  

Index finger pressed firmly against your doorbell, Hobi’s narrow hips swing from side to side at the tinny salsa tune he hears coming from the other side of the door to signal his arrival.  There’s a bright smile on his face by the time his sister answers, and when he opens up his arms to her, pulling her into a tight hug, her answering smile is just as wide.  

“Jiwoooooo!” he gushes as the familiar scent of her hair floods into his nostrils.  She smells safe - she smells like home - and Hobi finds himself lamenting it having been so long since the last time he came around.  There’s really no excuse; not when she only lives over the other side of town. “Still just as pretty, I see,” he admires as he pulls away, patting her cheek, and as she grins back he bends to pick up the overnight bag he’d rested down by his feet, stepping over the threshold.  

“Ever the charmer, ‘Seok,” she replies with a fond roll of her eyes, pushing the front door closed behind him, “How’s that working out for you?  Lured any poor, unsuspecting women into your clutches lately?”  

“Not since Soo-In, I’m afraid.”  Hobi laughs gleefully at the expression of disgust that contorts his sister’s features at the mention of the night he’d managed to successfully seduce one of her friends - much to her horror at the time.  “I must’ve lost my edge.”  

Secretly, he’s worried that he might have.  He hasn’t slept with anyone at all since then, and six months is starting to feel like an awfully long time…

“We can but hope,” she snarks, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised as she snatches Hobi’s bag right out from his hand and deposits it at the bottom of the stairs before sweeping past him and into the living room.  She grabs a jacket hung on the back of one of her soft, crushed velvet armchairs (Hobi’s always thought they’re hideous, but then who is he to talk about good taste?) as she goes and promptly folds it into away her own suitcase, unzipped and hanging open upon her coffee table.

“So, New York, huh?  You excited?”  He watches her pack, stowing away all the last few essentials she’ll need for the trip she’s barely stopped talking about since she found out she was going just a short few weeks ago.  Folding his arms, he notes the time on his watch; she needs to leave soon, or she’ll be late for her flight.  Typical Jiwoo, always cutting it fine.  

“You have no idea,” she grins maniacally, pausing with her case half zipped up, one sleeve of something hanging out the side, “People are actually gonna see my designs, Hobi.  Finally!  Important people!”

“So I hear,” he smiles back, and underneath his crossed arms he feels his chest swell with emotion, “Proud of you, sis.”  

“I know.”  She stuffs the sleeve back in and hurriedly seals the case the rest of the way, patting it firmly once it’s done.  “Maybe when I’m a famous fashionista you might actually listen to some of my tips.  God knows you need them.”  

This time it’s Hobi’s turn to fondly roll his eyes.

“Anyway, the fridge and freezer are fully stocked, all you gotta do is get stuff out in the morning to defrost and try to make it through the week without giving yourself food poisoning.”  She hauls her case off of the table with a groan and it thuds heavily on the hardwood floor as she sets it down.  He dreads to think how much she’s paid for the extra luggage allowance… “There’s plenty of fish, plenty of lacto-free milk - but you don’t need to worry about that.”  

Nodding, Hobi unfolds his arms and takes a glance around the room at the mention of your rather specific dietary needs.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’s not noticed you when entering a room; sometimes you sit so silent and still that it’s almost as though you’re not really there until you chose to reveal yourself.  He swears you do it on purpose, actually, just to watch him jump and shriek when you suddenly appear, an amused little smile tugging at your lips as he clutches his chest in fear.  

“Speaking of; where is my ward?”

“Kitchen,” she replies shortly, exhaling a sigh, “She’s busy doing that whole ‘cold shoulder’ thing she always does whenever she knows I’m going away.”  

“Oh.”  Taking a few steps forward, Hobi’s able to lean forward to peer round the door to the kitchen which stands slightly ajar, and through the gap he can just about make out your stiff form sat at the kitchen table, back straight and pen in hand.  

“Ah, she’ll be fine,” his sister dismisses with a wave of her hand, and as her hand passes her face Hobi notices her eyes suddenly widen as she catches a glimpse at the time.  “Hooo shit.  Will you shove this in the car for me while I say bye?  ThankyouIloveyou,” she gushes, thrusting her suitcase towards him, and like the obliging younger brother he is Hobi does as she asks, lugging her case out onto the drive and stowing it away in the ridiculously small trunk of her equally ridiculous car with an exaggerated groan.  

By the time he finds his way back inside and into the kitchen, his sister’s whole torso is wrapped around you from behind, your face almost entirely obscured by the blanket of long, black hair that surrounds you.  

“Gonna miss you,” he hears Jiwoo say, squeezing you in her grasp as Hobi watches you attempt to huff her hair out from your face in a series of heavy, exasperated exhales.  

“You better,” comes your snarky reply, and after a moment more your pen is begrudgingly laid down and you’re squeezing his sister’s forearm as you quietly insist that she fly safely.  When Jiwoo releases you, standing straight, Hobi’s is both surprised and oddly moved by the glassiness he sees in your eyes when they dart his way, your lips parting, embarrassed at being seen in such a way.  He wishes that your spine didn’t stiffen again so suddenly on seeing him, or that your tail didn’t immediately increase in size where it hanging through the slats of the kitchen chair on which you sit, glossy fur standing up on end.  

It’s only a temporary reaction - he knows that - but it still kinda hurts.  

“Hey kitkat,” he smiles, raising one hand in a lame, gentle wave that you slowly return, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you nervously look him up and down with eyes that are just a tiny bit too large for your face.  He’s been calling you by that nickname for almost as long as he’s known you, and though you’d initially bristled on hearing it, Hobi couldn’t help but notice over time that a light blush that had started to colour your cheeks whenever he’d say it; a sweet little glimpse at the softness that lays underneath your somewhat frosty exterior.  

“Hello Hoseok,” you answer softly, and oh, Hobi had forgotten the way the hairs on the back of his neck always stand up whenever you say it that way.  You’re the only person in his life who ever, ever addresses him by his full name, and if he’s honest with himself, he’d happily keep it that way if he could.  

Neither of you says anything then, after that, and in the seconds that follow Hoseok’s sister looks back and forth between the two of you, curiously chewing her bottom lip“Well,” she announces to break the silence, walking from the space she’d occupied behind you to approach Hobi instead, her arms held open wide in invitation to a parting hug, “I’ll just leave you two chatterboxes to it, shall I?”  

“Love you,” he mumbles into his sister’s hair, embracing her with all the strength he can muster.  He may be the younger sibling, but he’s always been fiercely protective of his big sister, and he has a sneaking suspicion that no matter how old they get that’ll always remain the same.  “Have fun, alright?”  

“Oh you bet your ass I will,” Jiwoo grins as she extracts herself from his arms.  She looks between Hobi and you, frowning slightly when she sees the way you’re shyly staring down at the crossword puzzle you’ve been working on for the majority of the morning rather than at her brother stood opposite, a pen in your hand and your pointed ears flicking anxiously this way and that.  “You two will be ok, right?” she checks, and Hobi gives her his best, most reassuring smile.  

“Course we will,” he enthuses, directing all the positivity he can muster your way and smiling even more broadly when you meekly return it, tail swishing gently behind you from side to side, “Right, kitkat?”

“Sure.  Right.”  

The first couple days at his sister’s place pass without significant incident - quiet yet comfortable.  It’s the same as it always has been between the two of you; a delicate dance around each other until you’ve warmed up enough to decide to lower your guard.  Luckily for him,  it only takes until later on that first evening for that to happen, and whilst he’d like to have thought it was his winning personality that’d done the trick, deep down he knew it was far more likely to have been the tiny pouch of catnip he’d stashed away in his jeans pocket that’d ended up luring you over to sit at the opposite end of the couch that night, rather than over the other side of the room like you usually do.  

Still, it was a pleasing development, and by the third night of him staying there you’ll sit next to him whether he’s reeking of the herb or not.  He’s never really spent this length of time with you before - just the two of you - and the more of it that passes the more Hobi starts to notice little quirks of yours that he’d never picked up on before; like the way you always scrape the skin off of the fish you eat (a painstakingly slow process, due to your utter refusal to ingest even a single shiny scale), or how your whole body will twitch and shudder before you sneeze.  

His most favourite thing about you, though, is how you always nod off to sleep whenever the two of you are sat in front of the television.  It doesn’t matter what time of day it is, or what you may happen to be watching; within an hour or so you’ll be long gone, regardless of your valiant efforts to try and fight it.  Your eyes will droop and your head will bob up and down as you try to cling to wakefulness, but before long you’ll have given in and snuggled against the arm of the couch; body curled in on itself, tail wound around your form.  It’ll flick in your sleep, sometimes, and Hobi can’t help but wonder whether you’re dreaming whenever he sees it happening, imagining what you might be dreaming about.  

He catches himself smiling fondly at the peaceful expression on your relaxed, sleeping face all too often, actually, as the days pass, and by the third night he has to physically sit on his hands to keep himself from reaching out and to stroke his fingers through your hair like he’s longing to; just to check to see if it’s as soft as it looks, or whether your sweet triangular ears really do feel like velvet to touch.  

Boy, this could be trouble.  

Hobi’s always thought you’re cute, sure, but at the same time, he’s also known that you’re totally off limits.  Not only are human/hybrid relationships still considered fairly taboo, but you’re his sister’s best friend.  She was pissed when he hooked up with Soo-In - and she was no more than a mutual friend through a co-worker - so he can only imagine what Jiwoo’s reaction would be if he confessed he’s had the hots for her feline roommate for as long as he can remember.   

Not that he’d ever admitted it to himself until fairly recently.  It was a difficult revelation for even him to swallow, but after bumping into you in the hallway one morning after your daily dip in the tub - dressed in nothing but a towel, soaking wet and blushing pink - he could no longer ignore the stirring down south that your appearance inspired.  Especially when you’d so softly uttered a shy ‘good morning’ through nervously bitten lips.  

It’s his own growing awareness of these feelings that lead to him feeling pretty relieved when on the morning of the fourth day he receives a call from Namjoon, asking if he wants to hang out.  His friend is pleased, actually, when Hobi reveals that he’s staying at his sister’s place; it’s closer, for one, and makes it more convenient to bring his own hybrids - Jin and Jungkook - along with him too.  They can get a little boisterous when out together in public places (Hobi still remembers the one time Jin had indignantly thrown his banana flavoured milkshake all over Jungkook when he’d kept on bothering him for a sip once he’d guzzled his own), and you’re still a little skittish when in unfamiliar places at the best of times - without the added pressure of meeting two new hybrids on top of that - so it’s probably best that it happens in an environment in which you’re most comfortable.

You seem a little nervous about the idea when Hobi first suggests it but eventually relent, persuaded by his promises of salmon en croute for dinner the following evening should you agree.  Not that he has any idea how to make salmon en croute, that is, but with the way your eyes had glistened at the very mention of it, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least give it his best try.  

You’re just clearing up the remnants of lunch when your three visitors happen to arrive, handing Hobi the dishes and plates to wash rather than get your hands wet yourself.  Although you bathe daily, you still tend to avoid water when you can; flinching back whenever stray drops flick your way so often that Hobi has to fight the urge to smile. He can’t resist laughing any longer, though, when you honest to god hiss at the splash Hobi creates when he accidentally drops a glass into the water through his slippery fingers.  

After you’re done looking embarrassed at having let your feline nature so obviously show through, he’s pleased to find you grinning sheepishly back, your cheeks flushed such a pretty shade that it’s all Hobi can do not to scoop some bubbles from the washing up bowl and boop them straight onto your nose.  

It’s at that precise moment, when he’s grappling with the desire to verbalise just how damn cute you look with your feet pointed inward and your hands still clutching your sweater, that the doorbell rings.  Your tail instantly thickens in volume, eyes darting towards the kitchen door, and Hobi’s quick to grab the tea-towel to dry his hands, shaking off the excess bubbles.

“I’ll get it,” he assures you, briefly touching your arm as he passes you by, attempting to soothe some of your nerves.  It’d felt like a natural thing to do - touching you - and it isn’t until he’s walking through the living room and towards the hall that he realises that that’s the first time the two of you have ever had any form of physical contact at all, even in all the time he’s known you.  That, in itself, is shocking enough, but what really gets Hobi’s smiling is the way that you hadn’t seemed to mind; not at all.  You hadn’t flinched, you hadn’t frowned…  

“Hey Joon!”  Hobi tries to shove all thoughts of what any of this could possibly mean as he pulls open the front door to reveal his friend - as tall as ever and hair ash blonde - stood waiting on the doorstep.  He’s flanked on either side by his two hybrids, both of whom slightly shorter and darker than he is, and even Hobi - as straight as an arrow as he professes to be - can admit that the three of them certainly make a striking image when stood all in a row.  

“Hey Hobi,” Namjoon smiles back good-naturedly, dimples pitting his cheeks, “You’ve met Jin and Jungkook before, right?”  Hobi looks between the two hybrids, noting the way both of their ears had swivelled Namjoon’s way in amongst their hair at the mention of their names.  Jin’s are slightly bigger than Jungkook’s but similarly black as night, matching the tails that Hobi can see hanging behind the both of them and the hair that sits atop their heads.  

“Just once,” Hobi replies, offering Jungkook a warm smile.  He’s definitely the shyer of the two felines - Hobi remembers as much from before - and Jungkook’s eyes predictably drop to the floor before he manages to find the courage to smile back, pulling at his hoodie sleeves.  “Come in!”  He steps back from the door, allowing them entry, and Namjoon is the first to enter, shrugging off his coat, with Jin next and Jungkook close behind.  

If it weren’t for Hobi knowing about the age difference between the two hybrid brothers he’d likely think that they were twins, given how similar they look at certain angles.  Tall, dark and handsome are words that would easily suit either them, and as he leads the two hybrids into the living room - and closer to you - a little nagging voice at the back of his head starts to wonder whether or not it was really a good idea to want to introduce you.  What if you really hit it off?  What if -

“You have a lovely home,” Jin observes as his eyes travel the room, and Hobi can tell from the way his chin is tilted upward that he’s subtly sniffing the air, taking in the scene of the place - the scent of you.  

“I can’t take credit - it’s my sister’s,” Hobi informs him, noticing the fascination with which Jungkook lingers by the arm of one of the sofas that happens to have a cardigan of yours lay across it, “Hers and her housemates.”   

“Ah yes.”  A handsome smile spreads across Jin’s face at the mention of you, growing wider as he continues to speak.  “Namjoon told me another hybrid lives here, although he forgot to mention it was a female.”  Namjoon, who is just sinking down into the sofa on the opposite side of the room, rolls his eyes at the suggestive tone that accompanies Jin’s words.  

“Behave, Seokjin,” Namjoon scolds lightly, although there’s humour twinkling in his eyes, and when Jungkook comes to sit next to him the affection he harbours for his hybrids is plain for Hobi to see from the way Namjoon reaches out and runs his fingers through his dark hair; a gesture that Jungkook nuzzles into, a contented smile on his face.  “Where is she, anyway?”  

“I’ll go get her.”  Presuming that you must still be hiding away in the kitchen - as is your usual habit - Hobi asks his three guests what they’d like to drink and then rushes off to find you, pulling the door to behind him.  When he turns, he sees you sat at the table anxiously biting your thumbnail, your eyes wide when they land on him.  “Are you coming out, kitkat?”  he asks gently, busying himself with fetching milk from the fridge and a beer for Namjoon rather than putting any more pressure on you than necessary.  He pours two glasses for Jin and Jungkook and then after a moment’s thought pours out a third for you as he waits for your reply, and by the time he’s putting the carton of milk back into the fridge he still hasn’t received one.  “Namjoon’s a good guy, and they’d really like to meet you.”  

“They would?” you ask quietly, expression so open and innocent that Hobi feels his heart thump hard beneath his ribs when he risks a glance your way.  Swallowing, he nods.

“Of course.”  Turning back to you, he extends a glass of milk to you in an offering, his kind smile very nearly faltering when your fingers accidentally brush his as you take it, drawing it towards your chest, held tightly in both hands.  “And I’ll be right there with you, ok?”  You nibble your bottom lip for a second before eventually nodding your head, pushing back your chair and rising from it determinedly.  

“Ok, Hoseok,” you say softly, trustingly, and god, he’s sure he must be grinning like an idiot when the two of you walk back into the living room together at the way you keep so close to his side, very nearly touching but just not quite.  Handing out the drinks that he’s brought, he introduces you, and all the while he does so he’s wishing he was ignorant to the way the two hybrid’s attentions are fixed so firmly on you, their eyes running you up and down.  

He supposes it’s not something Jin and Jungkook can really help doing.  Their breeding includes animal instincts, after all, so he tries not to clench his jaw too hard at the way Jin goes so far as to change seats just to sit next to you on the sofa, offering you both a hand in greeting and winning smile to match.  It soothes his frustration to see how hesitantly you take it and how stiff your shoulders are as Jin kisses the back of your hand - Namjoon chuckling at the display from across the room - and when Hobi sits at the other end of the sofa and you immediately shuffle over to be closer to him rather than your feline counterpart, he can’t help but smile, feeling smug.  

You stay that way as the five of you talk back and forth with a movie playing on the television to fill any silence that may fall in between, and there isn’t a second that passes during the next hour or so that Hobi isn’t acutely aware of just how close you’re sitting to him.  In an effort to avoid Jin’s advances you’ve shifted so far over that your thigh is very nearly touching Hobi’s - your shoulders in direct contact - and even he is starting to understand why the hybrids seem so taken with the way you smell at this point.

And they are taken with you; there’s no doubt about that.  Jin doesn’t seem to have time for anyone else - his attention solely fixed on you - and you’re not given chance to be shy with the way he’s constantly addressing you; asking you questions, telling stories and cracking some of the worst jokes Hobi thinks he’s ever heard (that’s not his jealousy speaking, he swears).  Even Jungkook has come out of his shell, no longer sitting passively against Namjoon but perched right on the edge of the sofa nearest to you with his doe eyes wide and excited, his tail vibrating happily every time he manages to grab a little bit of your attention away from Jin.

Hobi swears Jungkook’s trying to do things to impress you, too - like taking off his hoodie to flex the well toned muscles and his forearms and biceps whenever you’re looking, or when he’d leapt up to fix whatever problem it was that had momentarily occurred with the DVD player and then strutted back to his seat once it was done like he’d done more than just take out the disc and give it a good blow.  

It’s merciful, really, that you don’t seem particularly taken with either of them.  You’ll engage them in conversation, sure, smiling politely and answering their questions in that soft, timid way in which you so often speak, but it doesn’t go beyond that.  Is it wishful thinking on Hobi’s part that the smiles that you give him seem far more genuine?  Warmer, sweeter somehow?  It might well be, but that doesn’t stop him enjoying it.  

“Want another beer?” Hobi offers to Namjoon as he places the empty one back on the coffee table and then leans back into the plush sofa with a contented sigh, crossing one leg over the other.   

“Nah, gotta drive,” he dismisses, and Hobi is just about to turn back to you to ask more about the trip you and his sister had taken to the beach last summer when Namjoon speaks again, grabbing his attention back.  “I wouldn’t mind a coffee, though?”  

“Sure,” he smiles at his friend, about to rise from his seat feeling secretly loathe to leave you alone next to Jin when he’s looking at you that way, but before he can stand you’re doing it in his stead, brushing off your skirt.  

“I’ll do it, Hoseok, it’s alright,” you offer, and he wishes you a quiet thanks as you turn your back and make your way into the kitchen, your tail gently swaying from side to side behind you.  He doesn’t realise he’s watching you go until he catches Jin’s eyes and realises that he was doing the same, unable to keep his eyes from narrowing a little at the smirk that twists the elder hybrid’s full mouth.  

“I’ll go give her a hand,” he announces, rising from the sofa and exiting after you faster than Hobi can think of an excuse to stop him without looking like an unreasonable asshole.  When Namjoon engages him in conversation he finds that he’s only really half listening, his mind preoccupied with worries of what the two of you might be doing next door.  

Jin wouldn’t try anything, right?  The two of you have only just met, and -

The sound of china breaking barely a minute later has Hobi leaping to his feet and rushing across the living room at lightning speed, his concern for you rendering him completely oblivious to the bemused looks on Namjoon’s face on witnessing his nervous behaviour, or the sound of the younger man calling his name.  Shoving open the kitchen door, the scent of the freshly brewed coffee that’s spilt all over the otherwise pristine white linoleum floor invades Hobi’s nostrils, but that assault is nothing in comparison to the punch in the gut he feels at the sight laid out before him.  

You, trapped against the kitchen table with Jin at your back, your eyes wide with alarm and shaking hands hovering in midair whilst the tall hybrid’s arms wind tighter around your waist.  Jin’s face is nuzzling at the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, and Hobi feels his stomach twist with horror when he sees a flash of Jin’s perfect white teeth immediately prior to him dragging them along your otherwise flawless skin, purring deep.  

Anyone who didn’t know you as well might mistake the sound you make at that moment as one of arousal, but Hobi knows better.  It’s a whimper of fright, not pleasure, and when he sees the way your ears are pinned back against your scalp as you helplessly twist and squirm in Jin’s unyielding grasp, Hobi feels his blood begin to boil, temper rising until he can practically hear it roaring behind his eardrums.  

“Get off her,” he snarls as viciously as any predator might, his hands clenched in angry fists at his sides, and at the sound of Hobi’s voice Jin abruptly looks up, his lips pulling back to display his teeth in a show of aggression, tail lashing wildly to and fro behind him.   

“Mine,” he snaps back possessively, and Hobi is just about to go for him - more than ready to forcibly rip the other man’s hands off of your body if need be - when suddenly Namjoon is holding him back, one large palm planted firmly on his shoulder.   

“Seokjin!” Namjoon’s voice is just as firm as his grasp and laced with dominance.  “Let her go,” he commands, and Jin visibly falters, licking his lips.  His eyes, which had been almost entirely pitch black when he was attempting to stake his claim, are suddenly clearer again, and they flick back and forth between Hobi and Namjoon unsurely as he slowly loosens his hold.  “Now.”  

It takes a couple of seconds for Jin to fully remove himself from you, and during that time Hobi’s gaze never leaves your face.  He tries so hard to reassure you with just the look in his eyes, wanting nothing more than to rush over and take you in his arms as soon as you’re free of Jin’s, and he would if he didn’t think such a barrage of physical affection would only startle you more.  

You flee from the room too quickly for Hobi to have the opportunity to comfort you, anyway, regardless of his desires.  You run past him with what looks suspiciously like tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, your lips pressed tightly together, and when Hobi impulsively reaches out to touch you he's met with a response from you he's never had before; not in all the time the two of you have known each other.  

You flinch away as his fingertips brush your skin, almost as though he’s scalded you, and though it hurts to see you jump away from him so, it’s less than the pain he feels on hearing the sound that you make as he does so.  For daring to reach out to you, you emit a harsh and angry hiss, and as the ugly sound passes your usually soft, sweet lips, you wear an expression more feral and guarded than he's ever witnessed on you before.  It leaves him speechless - desolate - and it isn’t until Namjoon speaks that Hobi is able to break out of the state of shock your rapid exit has left him in.

He tears his gaze away from where it’d lay staring blankly at the doorway through which you’d ran, running his hand through his hair.  

“I’m so sorry,” Namjoon hastens to apologise, dropping his hand from where it’d rested on Hobi’s shoulder, “He’s not supposed to be in rut yet - if I’d have known I never would’ve brought-”  

“I think you should go,” Hobi interrupts harshly, unable to bring himself to look at the hybrid in question who’s come to stand sheepishly at Namjoon’s side, staring down at the floor in shame.  

Realistically, Hobi knows he shouldn’t be so angry.  It’s not as though any hybrid enjoys being such a slave to their animal instincts, or can even be held fully accountable for their actions whilst they’re under the influence of them, and yet… “Joon, it’s fine,” he sighs, attempting to soften his tone when he realises just how mortified his friend appears to be.  “But I still think it’d be a good idea for the three of you to head home.”

“You’re right,” the taller man concedes, letting the hands he’d been so fretfully wringing together fall back down to his sides.  “Come on, Jin - let’s get you home.”  Mournfully, the hybrid stood next to him nods and then silently follows him out of the room, his tail tucked between his legs; ears pressed flat against his hair.  Jungkook doesn’t ask what had happened when the three of them re-enter the living room, but the change in atmosphere is enough to tell him not to question Namjoon’s sudden announcement that it’s time to leave, and as Hobi follows them to the front door the younger hybrid lingers at Jin’s side, looking worried by his brother’s sudden and drastic drop in mood.  

The goodbyes that are exchanged on the doorstep are a little strained, but Hobi manages to summon up the enthusiasm for a parting hug goodbye with Namjoon at least; a tight-lipped smile on his face as he pulls away.  That same fixed smile remains as he waves them off, and Hobi is just about head back inside and shut the front door when all of a sudden Jin seems to have a change of heart and turns back.  He returns to the doorstep despite Namjoon calling his name, seemingly undeterred by the cold suspicion with which Hobi regards him.  

“I really am sorry,” he tells the human male earnestly, eyes wide.  Hobi knows the sincerity of Jin’s expression should spur some feeling of forgiveness toward the hybrid or lessen the anger he feels, but he’s not ready to let it go just yet.  Not until he knows you’re ok.  “Please, apologise to her for me.”  A stiff nod is all that Hobi can manage in reply, but it seems enough for Jin.  The handsome feline gives him a small, regretful smile and then returns to the car where Namjoon and Jungkook are already waiting, its electric engine impossible to hear over the music playing so loudly inside that Hobi’s surprised it doesn’t make the windows shake.

Hobi doesn’t linger at the doorway to watch them go; too lost in his own thoughts to spare another on waving goodbye.  He wanders back into the kitchen and sets about mechanically cleaning up the split coffee, but all the while he does so all he can think about is you; how scared you looked when you were trapped in Jin’s arms and the tears he’d seen in your eyes.  The vicious way you’d hissed at him when all he wanted to do was hold you tight…  

Are you crying upstairs in your room now, he wonders?  It breaks Hobi’s heart to imagine it, but no matter how badly he wants to climb the stairs and go check on you, his own anxieties won’t let him.  What if you’re angry at him?  It was his fault for inviting them all over, after all, so he wouldn’t blame you for being mad.  He’s not sure what he’d do if you turned him away from your room, or worse if you decided to hiss at him again, or told him that you hated him.

Wringing out the cloth over the sink, he watches the brown liquid he’d mopped up swirl away down the plug hole and mulls over what he should do.  By the time he’s finished cleaning up, he’s decided that it’s probably better idea to just wait for you to come down and just apologise then, rather than trying to rush or push you.  That way, you’ll both get a chance to regroup and calm down rather than make the situation worse.  

Not only that, but it might provide some valuable time for Hobi to figure out how the hell he’s going to make a passable salmon en croute to make all this up to you.  

In what appears to be a fortunate stroke of serendipity, Hobi’s usually subpar culinary skills seem to have vastly improved since the last time he’d tried to cook anything from scratch.  The smell coming from within the oven is enough to make his mouth water, and the last time he’d peeked inside the filo pastry he’d spent so long painstakingly preparing looked perfectly golden and crisp.  If this doesn’t get him back in your good books, he’s not sure what will.  

He’d been wary of leaving you at home alone to go and fetch the ingredients he’d needed - at first - but had reassured himself that after the kind of afternoon you’d both had, the chances of you wanting to leave the house were probably slim to none; especially since hybrids aren’t technically allowed to roam the streets by themselves.  

Still, he’d bought dinner as quickly as he could using the money his sister had paid him, and by the time he’d returned home, Hobi was relieved to find everything exactly how he’d left it.  Well… maybe relieved might’ve been the wrong word.  It was positive that you’d not gone out wandering, sure; but not that you’d remained holed up in your room with the door firmly shut.  

And that’s where you remain now, some two hours later, with Hobi stood with his fist gently knocking against the wood and a nervous look on his face.  There’s nothing but silence on the other side to begin with, and for a moment Hobi wonders if you might’ve just fallen asleep.  He cautiously knocks once more, just in case - he wouldn’t want you to go hungry - and after a second or two more he’s able to make out the sound of rustling sheets and footsteps coming nearer.  

Ever so slowly, the door opens to reveal half of your face.  One red-rimmed, puffy eye that looks warily back at him through the small gap and Hobi’s heart sinks on seeing it.  You’ve been crying exactly as he’d feared, and now he feels even more guilty than he did before, a lump in his throat as he forces a smile.  

“Hey, kitkat,” he begins, voice soft, “I made dinner if you’re hungry.”  Your one eye flicks down the floor and back up again, but for the moment that’s all the response he gets.  He can tell from the shape of your mouth that you must be biting your bottom lip, though - not that that makes him feel any better.  “I made the salmon like I promised.”  At the mention of fish, Hobi swears he can see your one ear twitch with interest.  He widens his smile encouragingly, letting the offer linger in the air, and after a second or two more his patience pays off.  

You open the door to the bedroom the rest of the way, flashing a meek, hesitant smile as you mutter,

“Ok.”  It’s not much, but it’s something, and as the two of you head back downstairs again Hobi can feel a hope that everything will turn out ok starting to kindle in his heart.  In gentlemanly fashion he pulls out a kitchen chair on which for you to sit at the table, smiling encouragingly as you lower yourself onto it, nervously pulling on your sleeves, and he tries not to let the silence bother him as he dishes up dinner for the both of you, one plate at a time.  

“I hope it’s alright,” he says as he places your portion in front of you; pastry parcel of fish next sat next to a mound of freshly steamed vegetables Hobi prays he hasn’t overcooked, “It actually turned out to be easier than I thought.”  You say nothing, but when Hobi turns around from fetching you a fresh glass of milk from the fridge he can see your nose twitching with interest as you inspect your meal.  That has to be a good sign, surely?  

“It looks good, Hoseok,” you reply timidly, picking up your knife and fork, and as he sits opposite you, you finally look up at meet his eyes, “Thank you.”  

“You’re welcome,” he beams back, and in the centre of his chest he feels a pleasant warmth bloom at the smile you return right before your gaze drops back down to your plate.  

Hobi can’t bring himself to take a bite until you’ve first had yours, and it’s with bated breath that he waits while you slice into the pastry and then scoop it onto your fork, losing flakes along the way up to your mouth.  You don’t say anything as you chew, either, but by the way your tail starts to swish happily back and forth behind your chair and the eagerness with which you dig in for more, he presumes it must’ve turned out as well as he’d hoped.  

When he finally takes himself a bite of his own, that suspicion is confirmed.  The two of you eat in companionable silence with just the sounds of your knives and forks scraping against the plates to fill it for a while, but with every mouthful Hobi takes he can feel the weight of the apology he’s so desperate to make sitting heavy on his insides.  Your mood seems to have lifted now that you’ve eaten, so that’s something.  At least it might make you more receptive to what he has to say; less likely that he’ll be hissed at again.  

Taking a deep breath, he settles his knife and fork down on the plate for a moment.  

“I’m really sorry,” he starts, awkwardly placing his palms on the flat of the table for lack of knowing what else to do with them, “About what happened earlier.”  Abruptly, you stop eating - your cutlery poised in mid-air - and it’s only after a second or two that you finally recommence what you were doing, scooping up a mouthful of peas without looking up from your plate.  

“It’s alright,” you quietly answer, but Hobi gets a distinct feeling that it’s not.   

“I shouldn’t have invited them over.  I never would’ve done if I’d have known Jin was in rut-”

“How could you have known?” You do look up when he says that, jaw working up and down as you chew, gaze steady. “It’s not season; it was just bad timing and bad luck that’s all.”  Your attention turns back to your plate but Hob can't help but stare, shocked by how casually you're speaking of it after so little time has passed - how frightened you'd looked before.  

“But the way he acted towards you…”  Sighing, you finally pause, resting your wrists on the edge of the table with knife and fork in hand as you look back at him with those wide, feline eyes of yours.  There's a sadness in them that Hobi finds hard to witness; a world-weariness you shouldn't possess at the tender age you share.  

“I've had worse, trust me,” you state, and the bluntness with which you confess it has Hobi sick to his very stomach.  All the dark things that they'd feared might fill your past seem as though they might be true, and now he finds himself wanting to hold you even more desperately than he did before;  to care for you and comfort you until all those horrors are long forgotten - dead and buried in the past where they belong.  

“I'm so sorry,” he mumbles because it's all he can think of to say, his brows furrowed as though in pain, and the sad smile that you give him only makes his heart hurt all the more.

“Don't be,” you say, shrugging your shoulders, and as you say your next words Hobi is baffled by the light pink flush that colours your cheeks, matching your bashful expression.  Why are you blushing now, of all times? “Besides your sister, you're nicest human being I've ever met.”

And just like that, Hobi's feels like he could sing.

The air seems to clear between the two of you, after that.  You seem in a better mood for the rest of dinner, more relaxed and talkative, and you even go so far as burst into peals of laughter when Hobi makes the mistake of trying to speak around a mouthful of peas and subsequently inhales one of them.  Your reaction may sound callous, but you’d made sure to withhold your amusement until after he was done coughing and spluttering over his meal and only then gone on to tease him about the delightful shade of magenta his face had momentarily turned once you knew he was no longer in mortal danger.  

In fact, as the rest of the night goes on Hobi starts to wonder if the events of earlier that afternoon might have been a blessing in disguise.  When he suggests that the two of you watch a movie after you’ve finished helping him clear and wash the dinner plates you seem particularly receptive to the idea, eagerly picking out a title you’ve been wishing to watch.  Your offer to share some of your highly prized lacto-free ice cream also catches him off guard - you’re usually a little possessive when it comes to your food - though when Hobi elects for the tub of mint choc chip that he’d had the foresight to purchase earlier he swears he sees a hint of relief in your eyes.  He scrunches up his nose on witnessing it, unable to resist the urge to smile at how endearing you are to him in all that you do; from the way you practically scamper into the living room ahead of him with a spring in your step, to how you curl both arms protectively around your ice cream tub as you devour it, ears quivering with delight.  

You don’t sit at the other end of the sofa to him that night; you sit right beside him.  Your bodies aren’t close enough to touch but near enough for Hobi to feel your body heat, and enough for him to almost jump out of his skin the first time your head falls forward and then bobs up again as you once again succumb to the temptation of sleep, as is so often your habit.  Honestly, he’s surprised the force with which he startles doesn’t wake you, or that he manages not to scream.   Trust you to ask to watch a horror movie and then abandon him by falling asleep during so that he’s left scared shitless and all alone.  

Still, it’s not as though he’s really paying attention to the movie anymore.  Once he’s certain that you are really as fast asleep as you look, Hobi can’t find the will to pass up such a perfect opportunity to admire your face.  The two of you are the same age and yet when you sleep you suddenly appear so much younger to his eyes; so innocent and unburdened.  He wishes he were brave enough to reach out and touch you - to brush back the piece of hair that’s fallen down across your forehead without fear of waking you.  Would you mind, he wonders? Would you -

A high-pitched scream from the tv has Hobi jumping in his seat again, heart racing a mile a minute as his head whips round to face the offending sound.  He’s relieved to find there’s no horrific spectre crawling out of the tv toward him as he’d so irrationally feared there might be but just as his breathing is starting to even out something else happens to steal it all together - sucking the air right out of his lungs.  It’s not ghosts or goblins that’s accelerating his pulse now, however, nor is it fear that’s widening his eyes; it’s the feel of your body leant against his and the weight of your head resting on his shoulder that’s flustering him so.  He glances to the side to sneak a peek at you and sure enough you’re still fast asleep, your lips slightly parted with the steady inhales you take, chest gently rising and falling against his arm.  

For a while, all he can bring himself to do is look at you.  Hobi tries not to breathe too deeply for a little while so as not to wake you but then has to give that up when the lack of oxygen starts making him light-headed and thankfully, you only snuggle closer as his lungs expand.  There’s a contented smile on your face that he automatically mirrors, and though he still can’t work the courage to touch you it somehow doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore - not when you feel so warm pressed up against him, your legs drawn up onto the sofa and your knees digging into his side.  

Hobi’s sure that there’s a smile plastered on his face the whole way through the rest of the movie, and he’s glad you’re not awake to see what a ridiculous sap he must look.  You probably don’t even realise what you’re doing, or have any idea of the way it makes him feel to hear your soft little sighs, and when the movie is over Hobi’s almost reluctant to let the moment end.  It has to, though; it’s getting late and you deserve to sleep in your bed rather than against his bony shoulder.  

“Kitkat,” he calls softly, “The movie’s finished.”  If there’s one good thing about having to wake you it that at least he has a legitimate reason to touch you now, and it’s with a shy, cautious hand that he reaches out to gently touch your arm.  You stir lightly on contact, mumbling something under your breath, and once Hobi has managed to tame the ridiculous butterflies in his chest he rubs that hand up and down your arm once more, jostling you lightly.  “Time for bed.”  

You murmur again, moving yourself up off of his shoulder with all the co-ordination and grace of someone that’s still half asleep, and by the time you’re peeling open your eyes and groaning out a confused ‘hmm?’, Hobi’s sure you probably won’t remember ever having slept on him at all.  

“You slept right through it,” Hobi tells you, smiling as your delicate eyebrows furrow into a frown.  

“I did?”  

“You did,” he confirms, and at that you moan, frustrated with yourself, “I don’t know why you bother trying, sometimes.”  

“No,” you sigh, pausing to yawn in what you’d probably say was a very unladylike fashion - mouth wide open and tonsils on display, “Neither do I.”   You yawn again, closing your eyes as you extend your arms above your head and scratch around the base of your ears, messing up your hair.  Hobi’s never seen you look so relaxed or unguarded before, and he loves that you’re letting this side of you show - even if it is because you’re not really yet fully awake.   You stand from the sofa, rising up onto your tiptoes to stretch out your limbs with your arms extended upward, and Hobi has to turn his head not to be tempted to look at the little slither of skin he knows will be exposed when your sweater inevitably rises up.  He still swallows at the thought of it, though; still feels the heat of it on his cheeks.  

“You coming up?”  Your question totally derails him for a moment, and when all he does is stare at you, mouth gaping like a fish, a bemused smile spreads across your face.  

“Oh, yeah, soon,” he manages to sputter out once he realises it was merely a question that you’d spoken, rather than an invitation.  You nod, satisfied, tail flicking rapidly from side to side as though you’re trying to stretch that appendage out, too.  

“Well, sleep well when you get there,” you smile, playing with the hem of your sweater as you stand over him, and when Hobi wishes you a goodnight in return you simply nod your head and turn to leave only to pause again once you reach the door.  “And thank you again for dinner, Hoseok,” you tell him softly, and if Hobi didn’t know any better he’d start to think the way you’re lingering was an indication that you were reluctant to part ways, too.  “It was lovely.”  

“You’re welcome,” he replies once again, totally oblivious to the huskiness his own voice has developed on seeing the way your front teeth are pressing into your bottom lip, hips gently swaying from side to side as if in time to some music that only you can hear.  

“Night.”  Neither of you mention that this is the second time that you’re saying it, or that somehow it feels different from any of the other times you’ve said it before.  

“Goodnight,” he whispers back as you slip out into the hall, and once you’re gone Hobi slumps back into the sofa cushions, running a hand over his face.  

Fuck; he is definitely, definitely in trouble.  

The next day does nothing to help Hobi’s growing affections towards you wane; if anything they seem to get stronger with every passing hour.  He’d come downstairs in the morning to find that you’d already cooked him breakfast - sweet egg toast, just the way he likes it, sat alongside a fresh cup of coffee (extra milk, hold the sugar) - and the sheer look of happiness on your face when he’d been so surprised and so grateful for the effort you’d gone to had made it difficult for Hobi not to want to grab you and kiss your right then and there, right across the kitchen table.  

You’re acting differently towards him, and Hobi can’t quite figure out why.  It’s not an unwelcome change, by any means - just a little sudden - and he can’t get used to suddenly being the one that being stared at rather than the other way around.  You linger and you look, and every time he catches you you’ll blush an even deeper shade of pink than the last time; though it still doesn't seem to stop you.  

Most surprising of all, though, is when you suddenly suggest that the two of you go out somewhere for the day.  It catches Hobi so off guard he almost chokes all over again but somehow you end up convincing him to take a trip to the aquarium in the centre of town, and on the journey there Hobi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so excited; tail practically vibrating with joy the whole time you’re sat next to him in the passenger seat.  

The people selling tickets look a little nervous to be allowing admittance to a feline, and he’d worried that their whispered conversation about whether to let you into what could be considered an all-you-can-eat buffet for someone like you might bring you down - but it doesn’t.  You remain chipper, ears pointed and smile wide, undeterred by the odd looks people send your way when you stand with your nose pressed right up to the aquarium glass making quiet little clicking noises at the back of your throat as the fish pass you by.  

It’s as you’re standing watching majestic sea turtles pass you overhead that Hobi first feels the tentative brush of your fingertips against his.  It’s a fleeting touch but it’s enough to make his heart feels as though it’s stopped beating in the time it takes for you to do it a second time, looking anywhere but directly at him as you smoothly slip your hand into his - the way the tip of your tail is flicking this way and that giving any indication that you might be nervous at all.  Immediately, it feels as though his palm is too sweaty - his whole body far too warm - but you don’t seem to mind.  In fact, after a moment longer you go so far as to link your fingers between his, squeezing back at the experimental tightening of Hobi’s hand around yours, a secret smile on both your faces.  

Neither of you mention this new development, but others around you certainly seem to.  Hobi’s sure he hears an old woman tutting as they pass, shielding her grandchildren from the sight of you as if it’d somehow corrupt them to see, but he could care less what she thinks - what anyone thinks.  All he cares about is how perfectly your hand seems to fit inside his and how you don’t seem to want to let it go, even when he pays extra for you to have the chance to feed the otters, or touch and feel the open-topped coral display.  

Absentmindedly, he realises he’s probably blown all of the money his sister had paid him in advance for doing her this favour, but Hobi doesn’t care about that either.  It’s worth every penny to see you like this; happier than he’s ever seen you before.

Your good mood persists when the two of you get home, too.  After lunch you decide you want to take another shot at watching last night’s movie again, and though Hobi knows it’s pointless and that’ll probably end up finishing it alone, he doesn’t have the heart to point that out to you.

Much like the following evening, you choose to sit next to him on the sofa.  This time, though, you’re close enough to touch, a thigh pressed alongside his, and as the movie progresses Hobi tries not to let it show how greatly it affects him to have you turn your body towards his and purposefully snuggle up, leaning your head on his shoulder.  You draw your legs up again and curl into him, your tail curling similarly around the curve of your behind, and the next time it flicks up into the air during a particularly frightening moment you let it come back down to rest across his thighs rather than the sofa; little by little, closer and closer.  

Hobi feels like he can’t breathe when you lay your arm across his torso with one palm pressed flat to his stomach, but he’d happily suffocate if it meant you’d never move.  He, in turn, lays an arm bravely across your shoulders, and at the happy little sound you make as you wriggle up against him, his lungs suddenly feel as though they’ve re-inflated with air.  Relieved that you’ve accepted his token of affection, Hobi allows himself to relax back into the sofa cushions to better enjoy the feel of you next to him and relish in the moment.  

If ever there was a time to touch you the way he’s longed to, wouldn’t it be now?  He drags his eyes away from the film to look down at the top of your head and the soft, silken ears that sit amongst your hair, and as though you’re able to feel the weight of his gaze on you, you suddenly look up; a small, coy smile appearing on your lips when you realise he’d been staring.  Hobi smiles back, eyes creasing into crescent moons of happiness, and then very gingerly starts moving his hand towards your hair.  He does it slowly to give you plenty of time to pull away but rather than flinch you simply blink, maintaining his stare with that same, gentle smile on your face as he starts to run his fingers through your hair.  

It’s just as soft as he’d imagined - like silk between his fingers - and at the contented way you close your eyes and tilt your head back into his palm, Hobi is emboldened.  Carefully, he inches his fingertips closer to the base of your ears.  

“Is this ok?” he asks quietly, not wanting to break whatever spell it is that he seems to have you under, and when you nod your head in consent he goes ahead and slips his fingers deeper into your hair to seek out the spot where your scalp and ears meet.  When he begins to scratch at their base as he’d seen Namjoon do to Jungkook the day before, a sound erupts from you that he’s never heard before; a deep purr of pleasure that vibrates through your chest and shoots straight into to his groin, filling his insides with heat.  Hobi feels guilty for it spurring such a reaction in him, but how is he supposed to help himself when you start grabbing at his t-shirt and twisting your back to turn yourself further towards him?  Or tilting your head back into his hand to encourage him further, eyes blissfully closed?  

“Does that…”  Hobi has to clear his throat before he can continue; enraptured with how velvet soft your ears feel against the pads of his fingers. “Does that feel good?”  Somehow your purring only seems to get louder when he asks you that, and suddenly you’re turning your head towards him and pressing your face into the crook of his neck.  You start nuzzling into him, alternating between kissing his throat and rubbing the angle of your jaw against every inch of available skin as you tug at his shirt, and it’s only from having observed domestic cats do something very similar before that Hobi understands what it is you’re trying to achieve.

You’re scenting him - rubbing yourself all over him and mewling so prettily as you do it - and before he knows what’s happening you’re suddenly up on your knees on the sofa next to him, very nearly climbing onto his lap.  

Hobi stutters your name as his hand leaves your hair, sliding smoothly down the length of your back.  He only remembers about your tail once it’s too late and he’s already touching it, palm brushing against its silken base where it protrudes from the purpose made gap in fabric of your jeans.  The very moment he touches it you moan wantonly - lips parting against the cheek you’d been so busily kissing - and your back is arching to stick your rear further into the air, an enticing curve that -

Suddenly you stop, deathly still as your hot breath blows against his face with every laboured breath you take.  

“Are you… are you ok?” he asks, quickly removing his offending hand.  He hadn’t realised how out of breath he is until you’d stopped nor how hard he is inside his jeans but now you have he… well now he’s just nervous, waiting for you to say something - anything - to break this awkward silence.

“Fuck,” you whisper under your breath, and then out of a state of complete inactivity, you suddenly spring into action, lurching back away from him and scrambling off the couch, red in the face.  You can’t look him in the eye as you stand there tugging on your sleeves, and Hobi is just about to reach out to try and take your hand when you take an abrupt step back, shaking your head.  “Hoseok, I’m sorry,” you gush, voice breaking, and to his horror he realises you look as though you’re about to burst into tears at any given moment, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I can’t…”  

You run from the room before he can say anything more, and for the second time in as many days, Hobi’s left staring at your exit with wide-eyed confused written all over his face.  

What the hell just happened?  Did he… did he do something wrong?  Has he inadvertently crossed some kind of line he didn’t know existed?  Hobi will be the first to admit he knows nothing about the do’s or don'ts when it comes to hybrid/human relations but it wasn’t as though you seemed to dislike anything that he was doing; the opposite, in fact.

Hobi groans, leaning forward and pushing his face into his hands before running them back through his hair, biting his bottom lip with worry as his mind turns over and over in search of answers.  It’s not getting him anywhere, though; he knows the only way this’ll get sorted out is if he actually gets up off of his ass and goes upstairs to speak with you.  And yes, it might well be awkward, but not as awkward as it’ll be come the morning if things are left this way.  Whatever relationship the two of you have built this week will be all for nothing otherwise, and Hobi isn’t willing to let the way he’d felt this afternoon when your little hand was held in his go without a fight.  

Bracing himself for the possibility of the most horrendous rejection of his life, Hobi climbs the stairs and heads towards your room.  Just like yesterday, there’s nothing but silence on your side of the door, but he doesn’t let that keep him from raising his fist to knock, steeling himself with a clench of his jaw and a shuffle of his feet.   

You answer far quicker than he’d expected you to, your voice hesitant as you call back,

“C-come in.”  Cautiously, Hobi pushes open the door and steps inside, closing it gently behind him.  You’re sat against the headboard of your bed when he enters, your knees drawn up to your chest and your arms wrapped around them, and Hobi is relieved to see that this time your eyes are free of tears.  You do look flushed, though, in both your face and across the top of your chest, and as he approaches your bed you watch him warily, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“I’m…”  Oh god, how does he put this? “I’m sorry if I… if I did something wrong or… or if that was too much or too fast?” He feels as though he’s grasping at straws; embarrassed at how flustered he feels when the two of you never even got so far as kissing.  What happened downstairs on the couch can’t even be classed as heavy petting, but Hobi’s wanted to touch you that way for so long that somehow that brief moment had already felt like so much more than that.

Logically, he knows it’s probably a good thing that you stopped things before they went too far.  The situation between the two of you is far too complicated; there’s too much at stake if it all goes wrong.  

“We can just forget about what happened, ok?” he offers when you’re slow to reply, your gaze focused down at the blankets on which you sit rather than Hobi’s searching eyes, “I don’t want things to be awkward between us, so don’t worry.  No hard feelings.”  It hurts him to pretend as if none of this matters - as if it’s all nothing but a bit of meaningless flirtation and nothing more - but Hobi would rather stuff all his feelings back down again than risk losing your friendship entirely.  “If you changed your mind it’s-”

You look up, grabbing nervously at the denim of your jeans.  

“I didn’t-” You abruptly stop, sighing with frustration.  “-I haven’t changed my mind, I just…” Hobi takes a step closer to the bed, and as he draws nearer to you he notices that your hands are trembling.  Your whole body is, actually.  Does he really make you that nervous?  

“What’s wrong, kitkat?”  The permanent blush that’s present on your cheeks darkens further on hearing your nickname, and as Hobi gingerly sits himself down on the edge of your bed he watches you restlessly shift, tucking a strand of hair behind you ear.  

“I’m not… in full control of myself right now,” you confess down to the bedsheets, avoiding his gaze.  Frowning, Hobi tries to catch your eye.  

“What do you mean?” he persists.  You press your lips together, tensing for a moment as though you're working yourself up to something.

“I'm in heat,” you blurt out in a rush, and even Hobi is aware of how wide his eyes must appear when you finally look up and find him practically gawking back at you.  “I'm not supposed to be,” you hasten to add, “It's not season yet but… but with what happened yesterday and Jin and I think it... it set it off early or something, I don't know.”  

Hobi struggles to think of what to say when you fall silent, anxiously awaiting his reaction.  It certainly all makes a lot more sense now; your sudden desire for physical closeness, your affectionate behaviour… what happened downstairs….

“Oh god,” you groan, mistaking his dumbfoundedness for horror.  You shove your face into your hands, and when you rake your hair back off of your forehead Hobi can make out beads of perspiration lining your hairline; evidence that what you say is true.  “I'm sorry, Hoseok… You must think this is so… so gross.”  

“Of course not.”  He's quick to try and assuage your fears, not wanting you to believe for even a single second that he would think of you that way.  “It's not your fault.”  

Besides - if Hobi is being honest with himself - seeing you like this has only made him desire you even more; complexion flushed with hormones and heat, pupils wide with want, body quaking.  You look more alluring than any creature he's ever seen before, but this is hardly the time to tell you that.  He doesn't know much about hybrid heats, but from what he's heard they can be almost unbearable to endure if left un-sated or untreated.  

“Do you have something you can take?” Hobi asks, “Does Jiwoo have some medicine stashed away for you somewhere?”  He tries to pretend he doesn't see the way your eyes are travelling the length of him up and down as he speaks, or how you lick your lips while staring at his own before you next reply, shifting your bottom on the bed.  

“Don't think so.”  You sound a little distracted as you answer, biting into the flesh of your bottom lip.  The look in your eyes is starting to make Hobi a little nervous - nervous and excited - so he quickly moves as if to stand from the bed before he's tempted to go making any unwise decisions.  

“I can go get some, it won't-"  Quick as a flash, you're suddenly on your hands and knees and your hand is wrapped around Hobi's wrist, keeping him from walking away from the side of the bed.  He swallows as he looks down to where your dainty fingers have ensnared him, and when he looks back up and into your eyes the predatory gleam within them has all of his blood rushing south between his legs.  

“I don't want the pills,” you purr softly, and looking at you now Hobi never would have been able to guess you were the same woman who was sat so nervously on the bed just a few moments ago.  

He feels you tug at his wrist and allows you to pull him back down to sit on the mattress; unable to resist your siren call.  As soon as he's within reach you're leaning forward on your hands and knees to nuzzle yourself against him like you were before, purring low, and then your lips are at his ear, teeth nipping at the lobe as you whisper into it,

“I want you, Hoseok.”  

For a second, Hobi is sure he forgets how to breathe.

“Me?” he blurts, very nearly choking as he speaks.  He’s fairly sure that that’s what he heard but it seems so unlikely - so fantastical - that even as you continue to press soft, slow kisses to the sharp angle of his jaw, he still feels the need to check.  

“You,” you confirm lowly, crawling further forwards on your knees.  Your shoulder bumps into his, and as your mouth trails lower down onto his throat Hobi feels one of hands encroach onto his thigh,  squeezing through his jeans.  

“I… uh…”  Unsure of where to put his hands, Hobi finds himself clutching your blankets as his head tilts to the side, willfully exposing the most sensitive parts of his neck and shuddering when you kiss and lick and nuzzle at them.  “I’m not sure this… t-this is a good idea.”  A disgruntled noise rumbles past your lips and onto his skin, vocalising your displeasure.  

“Why?”  You pull away for just a second, long enough just to look him in the eyes, and though they’re wide and feigning innocence, the lustfulness within them only makes you harder to resist.  You’re going to be his downfall; of that one thing Hobi is sure.  “You want me.”  He blushes at how bluntly you state the fact, laughing nervously.  Has he always been so transparent?  “And I want you,” you persist, dragging his gaze back to yours by tugging at his shirt, balling the material in your fist.  

“But… Jiwoo.”  Your face is so close to his that Hobi doesn’t need to speak louder than a whisper to be heard, and at the mention of his sister your ears swivel outward, a smile tugging at your lips.  

“She doesn’t need to know, Hoseok,” you assure him, leaning in further to brush the tip of your nose against his.  Barely a centimetre lays between your lips, and as his eyes zero in on the soft, pink petals of your mouth Hobi’s impressed by the strength he manages to summon in order to resist you.  He deserves a medal for this, really, what with how long it’s been since he last had a woman practically crawling into his lap.  “I won’t tell if you don’t.”  

Who knew you could ever be such a temptress?  Who knew a smirk could ever look so delicious on a face as sweet as yours?  

“Won’t you help me?”  Slipping your hand from his shirt down onto the seat of his jeans, you nudge your nose against his cheek, eyelashes fluttering prettily against his skin.  “It hurts, Hoseok,” you whine softly, and when you press the heel of your hand against the rapidly swelling bulge between Hobi’s legs his breath hitches in his throat, his hands clutching the blankets even harder than before.  “I haven’t been bred in so long.”  

He’s powerless to stop the groan that falls from his lips on hearing that, especially with the way you’re rubbing your palm along the length of him through his jeans so enticingly.  The only way he’s able to hold it back is to sink his two front teeth into his bottom lip, shutting his eyes to avoid the sultry look in yours, but even having done that he knows this show of willpower won’t last long.  

“Will you do it?” you plead, groping at his crotch, and Hobi can feel himself starting to perspire from the sheer heat that’s radiating off of you; every breath you speak blowing hot air across his face to further boil his blood. “Please, Hoseok.”   Your pretty eyes close and in turn, so do his, and in the split second that follows before your lips press gently to his, Hobi is sure it feels as though his heart might burst through his chest with how frantically it’s beating - how desperately it soars.  

It’s a brief kiss - a chaste one - but as you pull away licking the remnants of his taste from your lips, Hobi’s mind is made up.  He can’t fight this any longer; he doesn’t want to.  Consequences be damned.  

“Please, will you fuck me?”  

“Fuck, yes,” he declares thickly, and in that instant all the passion he’s been so painstakingly holding back is suddenly set free in a flurry of lips and teeth and limbs.  

His mouth crashes into yours and his hands release the bedsheets to tangle instead into your hair, pulling your face further onto his own as you kiss him back with equal fervour, very nearly tipping forward into his lap with how eager you are to close the space between you.  Hobi’s no longer careful about avoiding your velvet ears, either.  He digs his fingers into the base of them and takes advantage of the way your mouth falls open in an enthusiastic moan to push his tongue past your lips to seek out yours.  The taste of you has him longing so desperately for more than he starts impatiently pushing you backwards, leaning his weight on you until you’re falling onto your back amongst the covers beneath him, and when he pulls away to survey you the heaving of your chest has him swallowing thickly, cock twitching in his jeans.  

“You’re so hot, god,” he groans into the base of your throat, the tang of your sweat almost sweet on the tip of his tongue.  He means it in every sense of the word; amazed by how blisteringly hot your breast feels underneath his palm when he begins to greedily grope and squeeze through your sweater.  “You’re burning up, baby.”  

“Kitty,” you gasp out as his hand slips under your clothes to get a better feel, your nipple quickly hardening under the simplest brush of his thumb, “Call me kitty.”  

“Kitty, hmm?” he enquires, relinquishing the tender skin of your throat he’d been gently sucking on in order to look up and see you nod, coy.  He feels a swell of satisfaction in his chest when he sees how fucked you look already - how blown out your pupils are - and when you gasp as he tweaks at your nipple that satisfaction transforms into a smirk of pride.  

You’re so responsive to his every touch that if it weren’t for your condition Hobi’s sure he’d take great satisfaction in drawing this out and playing with you for hours and hours on end but for now he resists that urge, settling instead for stripping you of your sweater.  You’re naked underneath - naked and flushed all over - and Hobi devours you greedily with his eyes, grinning down at you as he begins to similarly unbutton your jeans, knelt at your side.  

“What a pretty little kitty you are.”  Holding your gaze as you blush even darker, he begins to peel you out of your jeans an inch at a time.  You have to lift your hips in order for your tail to slip free, but the moment your bottom lands back on the bed you begin to help him further by pulling your legs free as he drags the denim further down, ripping off your socks as he throws your jeans to the side.  Unashamed, you part your thighs to display yourself to him, and Hobi groans aloud at the sight of the ruined, sunshine yellow underwear that’s clinging like a second skin to your core.  

You’re sopping wet - dripping with desire - and on seeing how it affects him to see you so Hobi can only try not to cum on the spot at the salacious way you then nibble your lip and slip your thumbs into the waistband of your panties to dispose of them, too; laying yourself bare.  

“You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear,” he tells you breathily, a little light-headed at how little blood there is to fill the rest of his veins when there’s so much of it rushing between his legs; so hard that it feels he might burst.  You don’t seem to register his words, though, too preoccupied with pushing yourself up off the bed onto your elbows and tugging his lips down onto yours by the front of his shirt, eager tongue licking its way into the hollow of his mouth.  

“Take off your clothes,” you murmur into the kiss that desire has made uncoordinated and sloppy, pulling at his shirt once more, “Hurry, Hoseok, please.”  Your saliva wets his lips but neither of you mind and when he has to separate himself from you in order to tear the offending article of clothing off you practically chase after his lips, stealing them back as soon as you have the chance.  Now that his chest is bare you can’t seem to keep your hands off of him, either, sliding your palms down from where they’d rested on either side of his neck to grab at his biceps, nails digging in deep to make him hiss and curse.  

When he coaxes you onto your back they change target, trailing down his chest to start impatiently tugging at his belt as your hips roll upwards from the bed into nothing, and as Hobi kisses his way down your chest, cupping your breasts in either hand, you start to whimper and whine beneath him.  Your skin is so smooth - the weight of your breasts perfect in either palm - and the gasp of pleasure that you inhale when he takes one of your nipples between his teeth has Hobi groaning as he sucks it further into his mouth, wet and warm.  

“Please, Hoseok!” you cry he flicks at it with his tongue, gently pinching the other between his thumb and forefinger until you’re mewling and twisting and only then letting go to kiss lovingly at the swell of your breast.  He removes the rest of his clothes as he spends precious moments worshipping your flesh, slipping down his jeans and boxers in one and unceremoniously kicking them free of his limbs, peeling off his socks as he repositions himself to kneel between the legs you so obligingly spread to make way for him.  As he lies back down on top of you and recaptures your lips, your arms wrap around his shoulders to draw him in close, holding tight, and Hobi can’t get enough of how perfect your naked skin feels against his.  With every shift of your hips, the softness of your stomach brushes against the swell of his cock and the friction feels so good that he can’t stop the way he instinctively starts to grind back against you, smearing your skin with pre-cum.  

The slight sheen of perspiration that lines your skin aids the glide of his hand as it ventures down across your stomach, too far gone now to want to draw this out any longer or tease you any further.  With your fingers grasping at the back of his hair, he gets his first feel of the warm, slick wetness that’s coating your core and immediately he groans, captivated at how eagerly you invite him in; legs spreading, hips tilting, lips parted in a soundless gasp of pleasure.  

He's sure he's never known a human female be this wet - this responsive - and as his digits trail up and down your slick, swollen folds, Hobi absentmindedly wonders whether it's a hybrid trait that has you reacting so generously to his every little touch, or whether this is a new experience for you too.  Are you always this way, or is it because it’s his body that you’re trapped beneath rather than any others that you’re acting like this?

Could this really all be just for him?  Could you really be as wrecked as your whimpers of his name against his lips make you sound?  

Hobi dares to pray that all his runaway thoughts might be true as he loses himself in the feel you.  His fingertips gently part your lips to rub against your entrance, and as your hips lift up from the bed as if trying to encourage him inside, Hobi lets one finger shallowly dip inside and rocks his pelvis into yours to seek out the friction his neglected cock so desperately needs.  The way you clutch at his shoulders and writhe underneath him bolsters his confidence, prompting him to slide that one long, lonely digit knuckles deep into your blistering heat, and every inch is so tight - so wet - that Hobi swears he can feel the phantom squeeze of your pelvic floor around his length as your insides constrict around his finger to drag him deeper.  

“M-more,” you mewl as he withdraws his digit and then plunges it forth again; a little rougher this time.  Your head has fallen to the side to press your face into the pillow and there’s an expression of exquisite agony painted across your features that Hobi can’t imagine he will ever tire of seeing.  Underneath him, your whole body is trembling with a need so great that it’s starting to affect him too; his breath similarly shaking with his every laboured exhales.  “Need you, please.”  

“Don’t want to hurt you, kitty,” he soothes as he closes the space between your bodies, chest to chest as his lips press to yours in a sweet, loving kiss, “Gotta get you ready.”  As your noses brush, Hobi adds a second finger alongside the first to stretch you open further, clenching his jaw to keep himself from moaning at the way you clench even tighter around the intrusion and cry out into the kiss you share.  Your fingernails dig into the breadth of his shoulders as he curls his digits towards himself inside of you, seeking out the sweet spot inside of you and then flexing them back and forth once he’s found it, pleased at the way you squirm, begging him for more.  

“I’m ready now!” you insist, and suddenly you’re attempting to change position even whilst you’re still trapped beneath him, wriggling so impatiently that Hobi’s forced to withdraw his fingers from you and sit back on his heels, watching with widened eyes as you roll over onto your stomach and then push yourself up onto all fours.  His aching cock jumps against his stomach at the way you arch your back to raise your behind further up into the air, your tail twitching restlessly where it hangs slightly to the side down one of your buttocks, and when you reach back to grasp the other and pull your cheeks apart to better display your hole, Hobi swears he hears himself whimper at the sight.  

You’re so pink inside - so ripe - and every fold and crevice is glossy with your juices, begging to be tasted.

“Please,” you beseech, voice shaking as your hips sway tantalisingly from side to side, grabbing at the pillows on which you lean, “Please!”  Hobi takes to his knees and quickly shuffles forward to assume his rightful position behind you, placing his hand on top of yours and squeezing it tight, alarmed by the genuine distress evident in your cries.  For a second your trembling seems to settle; soothed by his touch, a sigh of relief leaving your lips.  

Hobi wishes he could see your face so he can kiss you and comfort you - look into your eyes - but he knows that’s not what you’re interested in from him right now.  There’s only one thing you want and you’re already rubbing yourself against it, angling your hips so that Hobi’s swollen cock is slipping back and forth between the groove at the tops of your buttocks.  The sight of it is so erotic that his body seems to start moving all of its own accord, pelvis rocking gently to push back against you, and Hobi can feel himself frowning with the effort it takes to hold back as he grabs a hold of each of your hips to stop you, knowing he’ll cum all over your back if you carry on for even a second longer.  

Once more you call out for him, sobbing his name into your pillow, and on hearing your plea for mercy Hobi finally grasps himself by the base of his cock and nudges its blunt, swollen tip against your folds, hands shaking.  Your tail shudders with expectation, torso tensing under his palm as you brace yourself, and just as he’s about to finally give in and sink himself into the heat he can feel radiating out from your core, Hobi falters.

“I…” he chokes out, stomach sinking as he realises what a grave miscalculation he’s made, “Fuck, I-I haven’t got a condom…”  

“Doesn’t matter,” you gasp out, and it’s only because of the firm hold that Hobi has on your hips that you’re unable to sink yourself back onto his length as you’re attempting to.  “It’s not a real heat.  I’m not-”  You have to pause to let out a mewling whimper, a tremor running down the length of your spine, top to bottom, “-not fertile.”  

“You’re sure?”  He deserves two medals for this, he thinks; ten in fact.  You’re so ready that your juices have already wetted the tip of his length, and it’s only the thought of his sister’s wrath that keeps Hobi from taking you then and there, as deep and raw as you desire.  It’s a struggle though, and as his fingertips dig deeper into the flesh of your hips your tail flicks irritably from side to side, temper easily frayed under the influence of your heat.  

“I’m really, really sure,” you groan in frustration, and past your shoulders he can see your head flopping forwards to rest in your hands, fingers twisting in your hair.  “Please,” you beg, and this time it’s a quiet whimper that passes your lips rather than a cry, muffled against your palms, “Please, I need it.”  Your voice sounds thick with tears, and as Hobi leans forward to press consoling kisses against your lower back he feels your hand suddenly land on top of his where it lays upon your hips, grabbing it tight. “I need you - just you.  Only you.”  

His lips linger against the curve of your spine, eyes closed as he lets the weight of your words settle in his heart.  Do you realise the way those words make him feel?  The seeds of hope they plant so firmly in his mind?  Probably not, but now’s not the time to focus on such things.  

Hobi straightens up after one more kiss, trailing one long-fingered hand down the path his lips just travelled down your spine, a tightness in his throat as he shuffles forward so the front of his thighs meet the backs of yours.  

“I’ve got you, kitty,” he coos down at you, his head tilting to the side to watch as the head of his cock disappears between your folds, slow and steady, “I’ll give you what you need.”  Pressing forward with his hips, Hobi’s thighs begin to shake as you welcome him in.  Your back arches, knees shifting even further apart to try to open yourself up for his considerable girth - spreading, stretching - and you’re so tight, so scorching hot inside, that Hobi can feel himself starting to sweat already; and he’s not even all the way inside.  

“Fu-fuck,” he hears you gasp out into your hands as he grits his teeth, determined to take his time so as not to hurt you despite wanting so desperately to force every inch of his length inside of you in one glorious, mind-numbing snap of his hips.  He knows that under the influence your heat you can’t be trusted to know your own limitations; you’ll take too much, too hard, and Hobi will be damned if he’ll take advantage of your current state just to satisfy his own -

Noble as his intentions are, all of them are rendered null and void when you suddenly push yourself up from elbows to palms and jolt your body back against him, spearing yourself on his cock with a moan of sheer relief.  Your head is thrown so far back that Hobi can see the pinks of the inside of your ears, the tips of your hair becoming wet with perspiration as the tendrils drape down onto your back, and Hobi’s not sure that the sound he makes as he becomes so suddenly buried within you is even human - a string of half-uttered curse words flooding from his lips as he grasps onto your hips for dear life, forcing you to keep still.  

Immediately you tug against his hold, pulling yourself off of his cock and then sinking back onto it over and over again, mewling and moaning, and Hobi finds himself so paralysed by pleasure that he’s powerless to do anything but let you.  He’s entranced with watching his length disappear inside of you, dripping wet when it reappears, and powerless to resist how eagerly your walls devour every inch of him, greedy for more.  

“Hoseok,” you moan, the curve of your behind bouncing against his abdominals, “Hoseok, move!”  Blinking, it’s at that moment that Hobi realises that all he’s done up until now is kneel completely still and let you use his body to get yourself off.  He swallows, embarrassed at having been so entranced by the sight of you that he’d completely forgotten his part, but just as he’s about to get with the program and show you some of his very best moves you suddenly fall still, huffing with frustration.  

“Should I give Jin a call?” you jibe, twisting your neck to look back at him over your shoulder, and if it weren’t for the playful glint in your eyes and the curl of a smirk on your lips Hobi might have actually let his feelings get hurt.  You’re trying to push him into action - goad him - and god damn it, it’s working. “Clearly I was wrong to think a human could do a hybrid’s job.”

Hobi’s eyes narrow jealously at your mention of the elder hybrid, his jaw clenching, and he knows he doesn’t imagine that little shiver of excitement he sees pass through you as a sudden growl erupts from the back of his throat.  He snatches a hold of your hair and tugs your head back, sharp, snarling at the way you shriek with a mix of pleasure-pain, and his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your ass as he grabs a hold of that, too, shoving himself in deep.  

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who was begging for my cock five minutes ago,” he reminds you, jolting his hips forward again so the head of his cock smacks into your cervix and then holds it there, snug inside your walls.  With his grip on your hair as leverage, Hobi straightens up and pulls you with him onto your knees so that your back is pressed to his chest, skin on skin.  “Only me, you said.”  He whispers the words into your ear, delighting in the way you shiver and sigh as he then presses his lips to the slope of your neck, sliding his cock in and out of you from underneath at a pace so agonisingly slow that it tortures you both.  “Isn’t that right?”  

“Y-yes,” you whimper, body flinching in his grasp when he bites into your throat and then draws the flesh between his teeth, sucking harder and harder until he���s sure to have left a mark behind,  “O-only you.”  

“That’s right,” he confirms after having relinquished your neck with a soft, wet pop of broken suction.  Each of his hands are now full of the weight of your breasts, his fingers busy with best manipulating your pebbled nipples in whichever way will best make you gasp and keen.  “So why don’t you lay back down for me, kitty, and take your fucking like a good little queen?”  

Frantically nodding your consent, you gasp a yes; a soft sound that turns into a sharp shriek at the unexpectedly savage thrust Hobi delivers into you, slamming his hips into your behind so hard that you jolt forward, falling back down onto your hands and knees.  With one palm pressed squarely between your shoulder blades, he forces you down further till you’re laid flat out on the mattress, his knees keeping your thighs spread wide apart as he sinks down with you.  

“There you go,” he soothes, hooking his hands under either side of your hips to tilt your pelvis upward and allow him to sink even deeper inside with a groan of pleasure so low that it vibrates through his chest.  Earnestly, he starts to move, gradually picking up speed with every forward cant of his hips.  He has exactly how he wants you now and you’re exactly how he’d imagined you’d be; soft, pliant, vocal.  “Perfect,” he moans aloud, vocalising his final thought, “Such a perfect pussy.  So warm and wet and - fuck - just for me.”

“Yes!” You push back against him, toes curling into the mattress as your head turns to the side where it lays on pillow, supple mouth hanging open.  Like this, Hobi can watch every single bit of pleasure he’s giving you mould your features, and he loves how little you care to hold it back, letting out each and every sound you care to make; frowning, gasping, grabbing at your pillow.  It feels as though you're completely at his mercy, and he'd be lying if he said that didn't get him off.  

“This is what you wanted, wasn't it?” he asks you through gritted teeth, thrusting forward so hard that your whole body lurches with the force of it, “Is this hard enough, huh?  Is this what you want?”  The sound of skin slapping against skin is almost loud enough to match your cries as Hobi drives into you as hard as he possibly can, dragging you onto his cock with the unforgiving grasp he has on your waist.  

Incensed by your climbing pitch, Hobi lashes out and smacks his palm against your ass impulsively, and god, the way your core contracts around him when he does it is so exquisite that he can't help but do it a second and third and fourth time.  By the time he's done you're very nearly sobbing with pleasure and your legs are shaking so badly you can't keep your hips up anymore - can't find the strength to push back against him - so Hobi wraps his stinging hand underneath your waist and holds your pelvis up for you, the position allowing him to rub two fingers against your clitoris at the very same time.  

“Are you gonna cum for me, kitty?” He can tell you're getting close by the ever increasing tightness of your walls, squeezing his cock impossibly hard with each and every thrust.  “Gonna show me how bad your pretty little pussy needs breeding?  How much you want my cum?”

You’re too far gone to reply; too overwhelmed by pleasure to formulate anything other than the syllables of his name as they pour from your lips.  Hobi’s fingertips slip and slide between your legs as he pushes the both of you closer and closer to the edge, and when your body starts to tense beneath him - your nails dug deep into the mattress - he knows you’re very nearly there.  

“C’mon baby,” he grunts, letting his weight drop down onto his elbow to close the distance between your bodies as far as he possibly can without pressing on the base of your tail and hurting you in the process. Lay so close to you he can push even harder - even faster- slide every single inch so deep that it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins. “Let me hear you purr.”  

“Hoseo - oh! Fuck, fuck!” Every muscle in your body begins to twitch as your orgasm draws near, and it takes Hobi every ounce of willpower he has to keep going despite the pressure building in his own abdomen - how engorged his aching cock has become as it pistons relentlessly in and out of you.  He’s not sure he’s ever been so desperate to cum in his life, but he’ll be damned if he finishes before you do.  He’ll make you scream his name if it’s the last thing he ever does.

“I’m gonna, oh god, I - Hoseok!” you shout as your whole body goes stiff, your core squeezing so tight that Hobi can’t even pull out anymore; trapped inside you as your walls milk him for his cum. Your broken call for him may well have been lost amongst the feathery down of your pillow but even so, it proves more than enough to finally push him over the edge, finally giving in and letting go with a deep, guttural groan of pleasure.  

“Oh f-uh-uck,” he moans languidly, pressing his face into the space between your shoulder blades to muffle the sounds that pour out of him as his hips undulate against you, his buttocks clenching with every drop of cum that pulses out to coat your insides.  Even when it starts becoming too sensitive to bear Hobi can’t seem to keep himself from moving, rocking his softening cock in and out of you just an inch or two, no more, just to better enjoy the sensation of his cum spilling out of you in time with his slow, gentle thrusts.  

You seem to be enjoying the feel of it, too; head turned to the side on the pillow and a blissful expression on your face.  Your eyes are closed and you’re purring happily - well and truly satisfied - and seeing you like this fills him with a sense of pride he can’t even begin to describe as he places a sweet, gentle kiss against your shoulder blade, smiling to himself.  

“Feel better?” he asks quietly once over-sensitivity has forced him to separate himself from you, taking great care to not simply collapse on top of you now that all the exertion seems to be catching up with him.  He lays at your side instead, wincing slightly at the ache in his thighs and then promptly forgetting all about it the moment you choose to lay your head on his chest, snuggling close and exhaling a contented sigh.  

“Much better,” you confirm, laying your arm across his waist and placing a kiss against his pectoral, a silly smile stretched across your pretty face.  Ever so gently - as if moving too quickly could suddenly steal the moment away - Hobi curls his arm around you to draw you even closer.  He looks down at you, observing every fleeting sigh or flick of your ears with an adoring look in his eyes, and after a few quiet, contented moments pass he realises that that funny feeling has returned in his chest; that same weight, that same tightness.  

Now, though, it seems even stronger than it did before, and when you finally open up your eyes and look up at him wearing an expression far too innocent for the things that have just come to pass, that sensation gets so heavy that it’s almost a struggle to breathe.  He looks away, a little frightened by the strength of what he’s feeling.

“Hoseok?” Your voice is so soft and gentle that Hobi almost doesn’t hear you call his name, preoccupied as he is with watching your hair fall through his fingers.  He meets your gaze again and tries to ignore the frantic pounding of his heart and the little voice inside his mind that’s whispering promises of fulfilled hopes and dreams if only he were brave enough to actually open his mouth and tell you how he feels.  

“Do you think…” He swallows, nervous to hear what you’re about to say. “Do you think we can do it again?”

Three more times Hobi finds himself buried between your thighs that night, and each and every time is just as hot and heavy as the last - just as intense.  He’s always considered himself to have fairly good stamina in the bedroom but by the time you finally fall asleep in his arms - well and truly out for the count -he’d been very near to throwing in the towel.  Every inch of his body aches from having been so determined to make each and every time just as good as the last - to give you a night neither of you will ever forget.  

If retrospect, perhaps he shouldn’t have pushed himself so hard.  If he hadn’t maybe he would’ve had enough energy left to appreciate how perfect it felt to fall asleep with you curled into his side, your limbs - tail included - wrapped up with his.  

Unfortunately, Hobi doesn’t get the chance to relish a slow and sleepy awakening with you either.  It’s the sound of his sister’s front door opening and closing and her shrill voice calling your names from the bottom of the stairs that jolts you both awake, and it’s with hushed whispers and wide-eyes that the two of you scramble to pull on your clothes and try your best to make it look as though you hadn’t just spent almost the entire night tangled up in each other’s arms.  

As luck would have it, Jiwoo is far too excited to see the both of you to notice that something might be amiss.  The lengthy tales she tells of her many exploits abroad take up almost the entire morning, and though Hobi tries his very best to seem interested - and he is, honestly, he is - he can’t help but be constantly distracted by the sight of you sat across from him at the other side of kitchen table; so near and yet so far.  Your eyes will meet as Jiwoo gesticulates wildly between you, practically frothing at the mouth with excitement as she speaks, and each and every time they do the prettiest of blushes will fill your cheeks.  A secret smile will spread on your face and you’ll bite on your bottom lip to keep it from growing too wide, eyes glancing away, and every time it happens Hobi sits there and wishes he could just lean across the table and kiss you more and more and more.   

Mercifully, after what feels like hours of nodding and smiling along, Jiwoo finally runs out of steam.  His sister may be a relentless chatterbox but she's not immune to jet lag, and eventually she begins to stretch and yawn over her empty mug of coffee, declaring that it's time for bed.  

“I gotta say, I almost didn't expect to find the place still standing,” Jiwoo comments as the three of you filter back into the living room, and behind her Hobi smiles wryly down at his feet.  

“Who do you take me for, ‘woo?”  

“Need I remind you of the summer of ‘01?” Hobi cringes at the mere mention of the ill-conceived house party his 16-year-old self had decided to throw during one of his parent’s week-long absences.  His friends had made such a mess of the place with their underage drinking that it was only thanks to his big sister's help that he hadn't ended up getting his ass kicked when they'd gotten home the next day - and she's never let him forget it.  

“I think you'll find I've matured since then,” he grins, pausing by the sofa and leaning his hip against it, arms folded.

“Sure you have.”  Jiwoo rolls her eyes fondly. “He didn't go bringing any girls back, did he?” she jokes, directing the question at you and then lifting her eyebrows expectantly when all you do is stare blankly back at her, too caught off guard by the question to answer.  

Hobi quickly covers for you by forcing out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.  

“‘fraid my dry spell is still going strong.”  Your eyes meet his over Jiwoo’s shoulder and he flashes you a reassuring smile that you awkwardly return, tail flicking nervously behind you.  

“Good to know,” Jiwoo yawns, covering her gaping mouth with the back of her hand and smacking her lips once it's done. “Would've been a shame to have to burn those sheets.”  Hobi tries very hard to maintain an innocent expression despite his guilty conscience, trying not to tense when his sister walks into his arms and embraces him, squeezing tight.  “I guess you'll be heading off home then?” she asks she pulls away, and on finding himself unable to think of a quick enough response to say otherwise Hobi simply nods, following Jiwoo up the stairs to pack his things whilst you stay behind with the intention of clearing up breakfast.  

Anticipating that she'll fall straight to sleep, Jiwoo says her goodbyes at the door to her room, thanking him again with a sweet smile and a kiss on the cheek.  She probably wouldn't be anywhere near as grateful if she knew what it was she almost walked in on this morning, and as he repacks his overnight bag his thoughts are awash with anxiety.

This wasn't how he'd pictured this morning turning out.  The two of you were supposed to have time to talk all this through once you woke up; figure out what's going to happen next and where - if anywhere - this should go.  He swears Jiwoo wasn't meant to be back so early but… actually… now he looks at his watch, it turns out to be a lot later in the day than he'd originally thought.  

Not that that should come as a surprise; it's not exactly shocking that the two would sleep in late after everything you got up to.  

Heading back downstairs with his bag in hand, Hobi wonders if maybe might be able to steal you aside for just a moment or two now that his sister's gone to bed.  It's not ideal by any means, but frankly he'll take what he can get over leaving a great big open question mark hanging over the two of you.  

You very nearly bump straight into each other when he enters the living room, both of you flinching backward to avoid crashing in the doorway and then laughing lamely when you realise what you've done.  

“Hi,” Hobi greets you, cringing internally at how absolutely unnecessary the greeting was.  Still, he feels a little better when you say hello back, smiling coyly down at your feet, and as the two of you stand toe to toe Hobi's suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to touch you again.  He reaches out to smooth a wayward piece of hair off of your face, and as he leans close Hobi swears he can smell his aftershave lingering on you.  

“How are you feeling?” he asks, trying to keep his voice low, and god does it pain him to withdraw his hand from your face.  

“Tired,” you reply just as quietly, “But good, thanks to you.”  He can't help but grin at that, very aware of how his face feels as though it's filling with heat at the meaningful look in your eyes.  

“Glad I could help.” He gives you a second in hopes that you might say something more to save him the nervousness of doing so, but when all you do is keep looking back at him with those sweet, innocent eyes of yours he figures he's going to have to be the one to do it - the one to address the elephant in the room.  

“About that,” he starts, shuffling on the spot, “About last night… what are we - I mean - how do you think we-"

Jiwoo shouting your name from her room completely interrupts what he was trying - and failing - to so in-eloquently say.  He falls abruptly silent as your eyes dart off to the side, peering up the staircase to check whether or not she's there - whether she might see the two of you stood so close - and when you promptly call back that you're coming in reply Hobi realises that the moment has well and truly passed.  

It'll have to wait till another time; another day, another meeting… hell, another phone call will do.  

“Sorry,” you apologise sheepishly, ears pressing flat against your hair but perking up once he smiles, shrugging loosely.  

“It's alright.”  He pauses, trying not to let his smile falter.  “You better get up there,” he says, glancing over his shoulder up the stairs. “I'll see you soon, I guess.”

You smile warmly, and just as he's about to step away and make for the front door, you reach out and curl your hand around his forearm, stopping him in his tracks.  He raises a questioning eyebrow at you but all you do is smile some more, your gaze flicking down to his lips right before you close the gap between you and bless him with a sweet, parting kiss.  

It's brief and it's chaste, and yet it makes Hobi's heart thud just as hard as any of the others you've shared.  

“Thank you,” you whisper against his mouth, and by the time he opens up his eyes you're already gone.  

When Hobi had thought that clarifying the ins and outs of your relationship would have to wait till another time, he never once predicted that three months on down the line he'd still be completely none-the-wiser as to where the two of you stand.  

He can't deny that part of him had been glad to get home.  He'd missed the sound of the ocean lapping against the shore adjacent to which his apartment block stands and the smell of freshly baked rolls that creeps under his door each morning, courtesy of his elderly neighbour that lives next door.  

Still, however nice it is to be back in his own space - back in his own bed - he can't seem to get you out of his head.  Now when he lies amongst his bedsheets bathing in the morning sunlight all he can imagine when he closes his eyes is you how you should be right there, sprawled out next to him with your smooth skin all aglow, crying out to be touched.  

If he'd thought the place felt quiet after Yoongi had moved out, it's nothing compared to how it feels now.  

He feels like a bit of a chump now, for thinking that you'd call.  It's as much his fault as yours, he supposes, that the two of you haven't talked since he left; he could pick up the phone just as easily as you.  He'd worried Jiwoo would answer if he did, though, and then what would he say?  Before that week all the contact that the two of you had ever shared had been as a threesome - always with Jiwoo present or involved in some way - so would she be suspicious if you and he suddenly started chatting just the two of you now?  

It's not even as though three months is a long time for him to go without seeing his sister.  There have been periods before where he's gone almost six months without making the journey across town to touch base, and yet somehow these twelve weeks have felt infinitely longer than any that have gone before.  

He knows why, of course; he'd be an idiot not to realise.  He misses you - misses you every damn day - and he really wishes it wasn't so.  The more time that passes without hearing from you the easier it is for him to start to believe the nasty little voice in his head that's whispering he's a fool; why else wouldn't you have tried to contact him unless everything he felt - feels - for you is as one-sided as he fears?   

Eventually, as time goes on, Hobi manages to convince himself to start to let it go.  He should have never gotten his hopes up in the first place and he should've known better than to read into the way you acted during your heat.  He was just in the right place at the right time, that was all, and the intimacy you shared was just a means to an end and that's… that's ok, he reckons.  He's glad he was there to help you, regardless, even if that's all it was or will ever be.  

Besides, it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway.  The two of you are from almost completely different worlds, and -

“Jung Hoseok!”  The frantic banging on his front door and the familiar sound of his sister's voice hollering his name from the other side startles him so badly that he very spills the boiling hot water he'd been about to pour into his cup all over the counter, yelping as he jumps on the spot.  

He hastily places the pan back on the stove as the banging continues, and then rushes to the door with a nervous lump in his throat that feels as though it's getting bigger with every step he takes.  

“You better open up this damn door right now or I swear to-"  Hobi yanking open his door cuts Jiwoo off abruptly, her mouth slamming closed - though it doesn't stay that way for long.   Before he can ask her what's wrong - what she's doing here - she starts to rant and rave once more.  “What did you do?!” she exclaims, cheeks tinged red with anger, “I leave you for a week - a week - and you go and-"

“‘Woo, woo,” he interrupts, holding up his hands in innocence, eyes wide in the face of her fury, “What am I supposed to have done here?  It'd be nice to know what I'm getting yelled at for before you kick my ass.”

“Not what - who!” she hisses.  Suddenly stepping aside, Hobi’s stomach drops as he watches his sister tug you into the middle of the door frame from where you'd been lingering just out of sight, and from the moment he lays eyes on you Hobi knows exactly what's wrong.

You're in heat again; a real one, this time.  He'd be able to spot it a mile off.  Your pupils are dilated and your eyes are slightly glazed; every inch of your trembling body shining with sweat.  It's practically dripping off of you, and even from several paces away he can feel the heat radiating off you and hear the pained whimpers that are falling from your lips - ears flat and tail tucked between your legs.  

The look on his face on seeing you in such a state must give him away because suddenly Jiwoo is repeatedly slapping him on the arm with her tiny, furious hands, cursing his name.  

“For fucks sake - you did, didn't you?!” she blusters, continuing to slap even as he ‘owowow’s’ and flinches under her barrage.  “She won't take her pills, ‘Seok, and you wanna know why?” As his sister backs off and gestures to you, Hobi can practically see the apology and embarrassment in your eyes. “She wants you, ‘Seok, and apparently, only you'll do!”

His eyes dart nervously back and forth between you and Jiwoo, caught somewhere between the urge to explain and the burning want to help soothe your pain.  

“I… uh…” he starts, but Jiwoo simply cuts him off, shaking her head as she gently pushes you forwards toward him, her hands in the small of your back.  

“I can chew you out later for this,” she grumbles, “But right now… she needs you more.”  Unsure about what else to do, Hobi holds open his arms to welcome you into them and then very nearly falls over with the force with which you rush into his embrace.  With your face nuzzling against his chest, you instantly begin to purr, long and loud, and as he wraps his arms around you to pull you close you cling right back, sighing happily when he presses his face into your hair and kisses between your ears.  

“Urgh,” Hobi hears his sister grimace, but when he looks up he's surprised to see her wearing a smile rather than a frown - albeit a reluctant one. “Of course you two would look fucking adorable,” she groans, “I hate you both.”  He can't help but grin smugly back at her as you begin to plant needy, frantic kisses against his neck, clenched fists tugging at his shirt.  

“Hoseok,” you whimper against his jaw, pushing your body against his, and at that Jiwoo decides to make a rather rapid exit, pinching her eyes shut so as not to see her best friend and her brother all over one another.  

“Just… just call me when you're done, ok?” she says, waving a hand your way with her eyes still closed.  Hobi's rather glad they are, actually, considering you're now tugging at his belt and sinking to your knees.  

“Uh-sure-ok!” he hastily replies and then promptly swings the door closed just in case Mrs Kim from next door decide to pop her head out to see what all the fuss is about - and just in time, too.  His back crashes against the wall as you grasp him by the hips and push him back into it, his pants and underwear already hanging around his knees as he grunts and groans your name.  

Needless to say, the next few hours pass by in a bit of a blur.  The two of you get lost in each other exactly as you did before - sweat and skin and tangled limbs, grabbing hands and deep, unyielding kisses- and if Hobi thought you were insatiable the first time it's nothing to compared to how ravenous you are now you're in a genuine heat.  By the time you're finally through with him Hobi isn't sure he'll ever be able to get it up ever again, though when he gazes down sees the look of perfect contentment on your face - just like before - he's sure he'd still give it a damn good try if you asked it of him.  

“Kitkat,” he whispers, brushing his thumb against your cheek.  The other is pressed to his chest as you snuggle up to his side, every inch of you swelteringly warm, and your eyelids flutter as he touches you, slowly pulling open your eyes.  

Hobi hates to wake you - he can empathise with you feeling so tired, after all - but part of him fears if he doesn't say all the lines he's rehearsed in his head for so many months now that the chance may escape him again.  How long would it be until the next time you need him again, should he let that happen?  

“Hoseok… what's wrong?” you ask, mirroring the frown that he realises he must be wearing as you similarly place your palm against his cheek, concerned.  

“Nothing,” he assures you, making a considered effort to smooth out the lines etched across his forehead.  He takes your hand and turns his head to press a kiss to your palm, heart fluttering with both nerves and excitement at the way your eyes sparkle in response to his affectionate gesture.  “I just…”  He steels himself, taking a breath.  “I missed you, that's all.”

A beat goes by, and as it passes Hobi's sure he sees you take a deep breath too, your cheeks filling with a blush.  

“I missed you too,” you answer quietly, biting down on your lip, and Hobi swears his heart is about to burst out of his chest at any given moment at the way you shyly smile.  “I was… I'd hoped that you'd call.”

“You did?” he sputters out, flushing with embarrassment when you chuckle your amusement back at him, pushing back a piece of his fringe that'd fallen into his widened eyes.  

“Of course…” you smile, and Hobi can barely believe that this is happening - that any of this could be true. He must've fallen asleep, or surely he must be dreaming.  How else could you be lying there next to him looking as perfect as you do; bathed in the afternoon sunlight as it pours in through the window, aglow with happiness. “I like you, Hoseok… I've always liked you.” You blush as you say the words and roll further onto your front, his sheets slipping further off your shoulders to expose more skin.

“Really?” he asks, because for all the sunshine attitude and positive disposition he displays to the rest of the world, underneath it all he's just as insecure as the next guy; struggling to believe someone as perfect as you would want to waste all your time and affection on him.  

“Wasn't it obvious?!”  He laughs because, no - no it wasn't - but he's glad it is now.  He can see the affection in your eyes as you gaze up at him; can feel it in the gentleness of your touch.  Quietly, you go on, “I told you, Hoseok… I only want you.”  

“Me?” he repeats shyly, feeling like some love-drunk fool.  He knows it might sound like he's fishing, but quite the opposite is true.  He needs to hear it just one more time to believe it might be true; that you really do care for him as he does you.  

“Yes,” you patiently reply, “Just you.”  Your grin grows in time with his, hips rocking happily from side to side under the covers.  “Only you.”  Happy butterflies swirling inside his abdomen, Hobi takes your face in both of his hands, palms cupping your cheeks and thumbs tracing the angle of your jaw.  “My mate.”  

“That’s right,” he confirms in a whisper, and then draws your face towards his to kiss you; sweet and slow and deep.  It feels as though it goes on forever but Hobi’s in no rush, enveloped in warmth from the sun shining hot through the window onto his back and the heat of your body pressed to his front, your hands pressed neatly to his chest.  

“What are we going to do about Jiwoo?” you ask once the two of you parts, settling down to lie with your head on Hobi’s chest and his fingers tracing circles into the skin of your arms.  

“Ah, I’ll take care of her,” he dismisses casually, pressing a kiss into your hair.  Sure, Jiwoo might be mad for a little while, but you’ll get over it; Hobi always has been able to wrap his big sister right around his little finger given adequate time and enough shopping trips.  

“Besides, he muses, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “I hear Yoongi has an adorable new pup at the shelter who needs a good home.”  

“Oh?” Your ears flick with interest, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes as you quickly catch his drift, “A dog?”  Hobi nods, slouching further down into the pillows and squeezing you tight.  

“Jimin, I think his name is.”  

“Jimin, hm?”  His heart swells with affection for you as he watches you mull it over, thinking so hard it’s almost as if he can the cogs in your mind.  You shrug your approval a few seconds later and Hobi can’t help but wonder if you’d be anywhere near so accepting of the idea a canine entering your lives if it weren’t for the need for the two of you have some serious making up to do where it comes to his sister.

“It might not be such a bad idea, I guess; lord knows she could do with a good rutting.”  

[beauzoleils]

ABIGAIL  COWEN ,  CISFEMALE ,  SHE / HER    →   according  to  the  school  records ,  NATALIE  LUCILLE  BEAUSOLEIL  has  been  attending  sacred  heart  for  the  past  three  years .  i  last  saw  them   hanging  around  the  john  bracken  library  ;  i  think  they  were  working  on  writing  her  novel .  at  twenty - one  years  old ,  natalie  has  been  studying  english  literature  and  get  this ,  i   heard  that  she’ll  zone  out  while  writing  papers  for  class  and  come  to  surrounded  by  pages  and  pages  full  of  archaic  languages  she  doesn’t  speak   —   figure  it’s  true ?  everyone  around  here  always  associates  them  with  a  moonlight  sonata  echoing  through  empty  halls ,  seats  in  the  back  row  at  the  opera ,  and  dead  flowers  pressed  between  the  pages  of  an  old  book .  in  the  time  since  these  strange  happenings ,  they  have  encountered  unexplained  occurrences .     

HI ,  hello .  i’m  hannah  n  this  is  like .  the  only  thing  i’ve  been  thinking  about  recently ,  aka  i’m  so  excited .  ok  anyway !  i’m  20 ,  kickin  it  in  the  est !  i’m  a  full  time  student  ( majoring  in  being  a  dumb  bitch  n  gay  rights  and  i’m  at  the  top  of  my  class  baby . . )  and  i’m  ALSO  a  preschool  teacher  so  if  i’m  ever  Not  here ,  i’m  with  my  babies  ! !  but  that  isn’t  the  reason  why  ur  all  here . .   ur  here  for  an  intro  post !  so !  

let’s  talk  abt  my  girl . . .  𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄  𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐋 !

okay .  so .  first  thing’s  first .  i  have  some  Real  Things  prepared  for  my  girl ,  including  but  not  limited  to :

a  pinterest  board !

a  stats  page !

and  what  i  call  NATALIE :  A  TRAGEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS .  it’s  kind  of  a  bio ,  mixed  in  with  some  stage  directions  here  and  there .  it’s  a  quick  read  n  rly  gives  you  that  Natalie  Flavor  if  you  know  what  i  mean . .  so  if  you  feel  so  inclined  n  wanna  take  a  look . .  but  full  disclosure  it  rly  does  hit  different  than  just  reading  this  intro 

anyway !  i’ll  give  a  more  condensed  version  of  her  bio  here  n  some  info  abt  her  personality  n  some  random  headcanons . .  etc !

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐈 :  𝑨 𝑯𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

alright  SO .  our  girl  natalie  was  born  on  april  13 ,  1952  to  michel  and  colette  beausoleil .  it  was  a  thursday ,  and  it  was  ALSO  eleven  weeks  before  colette’s  due  date ,  so  we  all  know  that  can’t  be  good 

( spoiler  alert :  it  wasn’t )

natalie  was  supposed  to  be  a  twin ,  but  the  other  baby  ( a  boy  named  pierre )  didn’t  survive .  they  didn’t  think  that  natalie  would ,  but  she did !  unfortunately ,  her  parents  were  too  wounded  by  the  loss  of  their  other  baby  and  it  was  all grieving  and  no  celebrating .  

also .  there’s  more  info  abt  her  parents  n  how  they  met  in  the  bio  but ,  a  sparknotes  version  is  that  michel  was  a  playwright  in  paris  and  colette  was  a  ballerina / his  muse  and  they  rushed  into  a  marriage 

michel  made  it  rly  big  a  couple  yrs  after  natalie  was  born  and  so  they  decided  to  use  that  $ $ $  to  send  natalie  away  to  an  expensive  boarding  school  in  london  called  our  lady  of  sacred  suffering .  it  was ,  of  course ,  a  catholic  girls  boarding  school  and  natalie  hated  it  there

but  they  hated  natalie  there  bc  she  was  just  the  WORST  catholic  school  girl  of  all  time ,  so  it  was  mutual

meanwhile ,  her  relationship  w  her  parents  is . .  very  complicated .  her  dad  is  just  kind  of  The  Worst  across  the  board ,  very  reliant  on  drinking ,  definitely  got  into  drug  use  at  some  point ,  had  lots  of  affairs  with  the  young  actresses  in  his  plays .  and  colette  was  just . .  very  sad  and  very  absent  so  the  support  was  Minimal

natalie  has  a  lot  of  issues  that  are  all  rooted  in  her  childhood  tbh .

somewhere  along  the  way ,  she  found  a  deep  passion  for  Writing  and  developed  this  sense  of  purpose  and  for  a  minute  things  were  going  very  well 

which  we  all  know  means  things  are  about  to  get  WORSE . 

on  her  eighteenth  birthday ,  natalie  receieves  a  card  in  the  mail  from  her  mother  for  the  First  Time  Ever .  and  she  immediately  is  like .  huh .  well .  something  is  Wrong .

she’s  right .

( tw :  nondescript  mentions  of  car  crashes  &  death )

a  week  later ,  she  receives  word  that  her  parents  were  involved  in  a  serious  car  accident  at  the  pont  de  l’alma  tunnel  in  paris  and  her  did  not  survive  the  accident .

( end  tw )

her  mother’s  family  is  not  convinced  that  michel  should  walk  away  from  this  without  blame  and  decides  to  take  legal  action  against  him  and  get  him  convicted  with  a  more  serious  charge  than  just  manslaughter . 

they  promise  to  keep  natalie  out  of  it  as  much  as  possible  but  when  it  comes  time  to  testify  as  to  whether  or  not  michel  had  a  history  of  not  caring  about  colette’s  life  and  well - being ,  the  only  one  who  can  speak  to  it  is  natalie .

so  she  testifies  and  it’s  her  testimony  that  is  the  metaphorical  nail  in  the  coffin .  

( tw :  suicide  mention )

michel  knows  it ,  too .  that’s  what  natalie  thinks .  he  turns  up  dead  in  his  jail  cell  the  day  before  he’s  supposed  to  be  sentenced .  she  never  knows  if  he  deserved  the  life  sentence  he  was  going  to  be  given .

( end  tw ) 

so  then !  she’s  an  orphan !  but  she  does  gain  control  over  everything  that  her  parents  left  behind ,  which  turns  out  to  be  a  lot .  

she  sells  their  house  in  paris ,  goes  to  wales  to  begin  university ,  and  hasn’t  gone  back  since  then .  but  like ,  she  grew  up  in  london  for  the  most  part  so  she’s  not  exactly  sad  about  being  away  from  paris  and  all  the  ghosts  there .

and  now  she’s  at  sacred  heart ,  working  on  writing  her  debut  novel ,  which  is  the  ( albeit ,  dramatized  and  fictionalized )  story  of  her  parents !

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐈𝐈 :  𝑨  𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀 .

so  basically ,  she’s  got  issues .

fictional  character  inspo  includes :  jo  march ,  alaska  young ,  cheryl  blossom

if  you  know  anything  abt  astrology . .  she’s  an  aries  sun ,  mercury ,  and  venus . .  and  a  scorpio  moon  and  mars . .  and  a  gemini  rising . .  i’m  so  sorry JKDSFM

she’s  very  emotional  but  does  a  super  good  job  of  hiding  it  and  keeping  all  those  emotions  ( esp  the  intense  n  darker  ones )  buried  away . .  deep  down  where  no  one  could  see  it

the  minute  that  ppl  kind  of  ? ?  but  two  and  two  together  n  realize  who  she  is  ( bc . .  in  my  head . .  her  dad’s  whole  trial  was  kind  of .  A  Thing  that  the  public  knew  abt . )  they’re  probably  rly  concerned  w  Little  she  shows  any  real  emotion  to  the  whole  thing . 

rly  she’s  just  the  queen  of  compartmentalizing  n  repressing !

she’s  very . .  Assertive .  like ,  when  she  wants  something  she’s  going  to  do  whatever  it  takes  to  get  her  way  

very  Very  reckless .  she’s  like . .  so  fucking  impulsive  that  it  physically  Pains  me  sometimes .

she’s  very  smart  but  like .  More  So ,  she’s  very  clever  and  very  sharp  with  her  words .  a  very  fast  thinker  and  a  very  loud  talker 

someone  please . .  tell  her  to  stop  yelling .  she  needs  to  Relax . 

she’s  very  charming  i’ll  say  it .  n  like ?  seems  cool ?  the  kind  of  person  that  you  meet  and  immediately  want  to  hang  out  w  them .  

very  flirty ,  has  always  used  that  charming  smile  of  hers  to  get  ppl  in  her  corner  and  she’s  not  gonna  stop  now !  she’s  very  good  at  making  ppl  feel  special  

but  like .  she  means  well  most  of  the  time  sdkfj  her  heart  is  in  the  right  place  okay

big  time  trust  issues .  big  time  commitment  issues .  painfully  independent  and  refuses  to  let  anyone  know  how  much  she  cares  about  them  until  she’s  like . .  Really  sure  that  they  aren’t  going  to  hurt  her

also  very  afraid  of  hurting  people ,  which  is  another  reason  why  she  struggles  to  get  attached  to  people .  she  definitely  has  this  deep - rooted  fear  that  Bad  Things  follower  her  and  she  doesn’t  want  to  drag  ppl  into  that

it’s  literally  a  toss - up  as  to  whether  she’s  going  to  seem  like  she’s  demanding  ur  attention  or  entirely  disinterested  in  it .  bc  she’s  all  over  the  place . 

but  like .  i’m  an  emotional  BITCH  so  she’s  probably  going  to  end  up  being  100000%  softer  than  i  intend  bc  i  project  too  much  soft  bitch  energy  onto  my  characters  Always .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐈𝐈𝐈 :  𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺 .

so  many  things .  literally ,  anything .  just  a  disclaimer ,  if  u  read  thru  this  and  had  An  Idea  then  like .  yes  Pls  tell  me ,  i  want  it  xoxo 

but  here  are  some  i  have  up  in  the  old . .  noggin .

EXES .  please ,  please . .  for  the  love  of  GOD  give  me  some  angsty  exes  nonsense .  do  you  need  someone  who  broke  ur  characters  heart ?  consider  natalie  UR  GIRL .  she’s  Emotionally  Damaged  and  has  the  capacity  to  be  the  angstiest  ex  of  all  time ,  okay ?

give  her  a  weakness .  she  needs  someone  who  she’s  Actually  vulnerable  around  and  actually  sees  her  have  emotions  and  knows  she’s  not  just  this  huge  Mess  all  the  time

i  rly  want  someone  that  is  like .  from  the  same  ( ish )  bg  as  her  in  the  sense  that  like . .  they  also  were  surrounded  by  nice  clothes  n   expensive  private  schools  n  Luxury  but  like .  they  Thrive  in  it  the  way  natalie  used  to  wish  that  she  could .  n  just .  i  think  it  would  b  a  super  interesting  dynamic  bc  they  would  just !  clash !  so  intensely ! !  n  tbh  nat  would  probably  b  lowkey  jealous  Still  n .  spicy !

@ all  those  ppl  who  are  into  theatre :  i’m  Dying  for  some  connections  of  ppl  who  knew / knew  of  her  father  n  would  know  what  happened  w  him  perhaps  on  a  deeper  level  than  ppl  who  read  it  in  the  newspaper  a  few  yrs  ago . .  ( bonus  points  if  they  lowkey  idolized / looked  up  to  her  dad  bc  thats  a  Big  Mess  and  could  b  spicy  as  fuck  to  explore ,  u know ? ) 

idk  if  any  of  y’all  have  characters  who  grew  up  in / around  paris ?  but  if  there  are . .  then  Perhaps  someone  who  knew  her  in  her  youth ?

okay .  not  to  be  Trash  but  like .  i  rly  want  her  to  have  a  dynamic  that’s  jo  x  laurie  adjacent ?  do  they  have  to  be  in  love  w  her ?  no !  i  just  want someone  that  has  that  genuine  bond  w  her  and  they  care  abt  each  other  n  goof  around  n  like . .  i’m  already  getting  soft  on  main ,  huh , ,

she’s  soo  fucking  messy  that  like . .  all  the  messy  fwb / frenemies  with  benefits / one  night  stand  type  of  plots . .  yes  pls 

i  always  want  there  to  b  a  badass  girl  squad  like .  a  group  of  ladies  n  theydies  that  take  no  shit  n  get  in  fights  for  each  other  n  rly  truly  ride  or  die  w  each  other . .  we  can  workshop  the  name  ok  but  for  now ?  my  girl  squad  is  open  for  applications 

okay .  let  me  cut  myself  off  right  there  but  i’ll  leave  you  with  my  WANTED  CONNECTIONS  TAG  n  also  again  i’m 10000%  okay  to  just  brainstorm  out  something  else  completely  if  its  what  ur  feeling !

if  u  read  all / any  of  this . .  i  love  u . <3  either hmu on discord ( let's go 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝒷𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓈 ! #6227 ) ksdjfskm  OR !  like  this  n  i  will  come  to  u !  okay ,  that’s  all ,  bye 

[rmjagonshi]

In For a Penny, In For a Pound - Chapter 2

On AO3

Stan had spent most of the morning puttering around on deck. Checking and double checking the tie downs for the anchor, fixing the guidewires for the antenna. Hell, he’d even mended the fishing net the seven-eyed shark had torn through two weeks back. Anything to avoid going below deck and facing his brother.

No matter what he did, no matter how many times he’d intentionally stuck his hand with a fishing hook, he just couldn’t get the memory out of his head.

It lingered on the edges of his mind, even now. The harsh breath, the throaty moans.

Stan flicked his eyes to the cabin window to check if he was alone before he adjusted himself, pausing a second too long to run the palm of his hand over the seam of his jeans. He wasn’t hard, not exactly, he couldn’t get hard again so soon after, not like he used to. But he’d been at half-mast since he’d scrambled out of the bathroom that morning and yanked his coffee cup out of Ford’ hand. The kicked puppy look Ford had given him certainly had done him no favors. Stan figured he deserved the burnt tongue he’d gotten from the scalding liquid when he’d guzzled the cup down.

He hadn’t even bothered to venture down to get something to eat when lunch time rolled around. His stomach grumbled at him as it digested air and bland coffee. But the thought of food made him queasy. And he wasn't ready to face Ford just yet. He could hardly think about his brother without his mind pulling up the memory from last might.

What’s even worse, was that he’d indulged in it. Instead of just leaving it a it was, he’d actually gotten off with the image of his twin in his mind. There was no way he could get around that. No way he could deny it. No amount of logic could make this ok. Knowing Ford, he’d try to write it off as some sort of psychology mumbo jumbo. At least…Stan thinks he would. He honestly doesn’t know what Ford would do.

Oh, GOD! What would Ford do if he found out? Suddenly, that kicked puppy look from this morning twisted into one of anger and disgust. Ford would leave. Or he would ask Stan to leave. They’d sail to the nearest port and Ford would leave him there. He’d lose his brother again. Third time’s the charm. This time it would be for good.

Stan’s fingers faltered over the knot he was tying in the ropes. His brother would leave. Everything he’d worked for would disappear. Ford would tell the kids. The kid’s parents would keep him from ever seeing to talking to them again. He couldn’t go back to Gravity Falls. Soos…god. What would Soos think of him? Soos had spent his entire adolescence looking up to Stan. Not that Stan was the best of role models, but Soos had forgiven much of Stan’s lackluster history. There was no way he would forgive this. If this fell apart, Stan didn’t even have the Mystery Shack to go back to. If this got out, it was all over. He would lose everything. He’d go back to living in his car under a shitty overpass. Back to the ‘nameless grifter’.

But it wouldn’t. He wouldn’t say anything. And he wouldn’t let this change anything. Stan was an old hat at ignoring his feelings. He could ignore this. He would just find some babe at the next port they stopped at to get his rocks off and this would go away. Everything would go back to normal. It was going to be okay. He’d claim that he was feeling off and needed some space to lick his proverbial wounds in peace. That was it. Ford would buy that. Stan always had a habit of hiding when he was hurt or bothered by something. It wasn't that abnormal. Yeah. He could play this off.

Stan took a breath and threw down the net he’d been working on. He needed to make amends. He could do this. Stan rose from the deck chair he had molded into over the past few hours. It was going on three in the afternoon. And he’d skipped lunch. Knowing his brother, Ford hadn’t eaten anything either. Man would go days without eating, subsisting on only coffee if someone didn’t shove food in front of his face. It had been a real problem through highschool. Stan had gotten into the habit of packing both of their lunches, making sure to cut the crusts of Ford’s sandwich everytime. Stan would usually find Ford tucked away in the library or studyhall and would drag him to the roof so they could eat together. On days Ford had resisted, they’d find a quiet corner in the library and eat there. Stan wondered how well Ford had taken care of himself in college.    

Well, no time like the present to make amends. But his feet wouldn’t cooperate. He paced over to the railing to lean on it. They were listing off the north coast of Ireland. Ford was following some school of fish with toes on the end of their fins. Stan had caught one back near Iceland and they had been following them for the last week or so. Something about migration patterns or whatever. Stan didn’t pay much attention to his brother’s weird anomalies unless it was dangerous. He’d gotten enough of mundane weirdness in Gravity Falls.

It was pretty clear for November on the Atlantic. Sky partly cloudy with hints of sunlight peeking out from behind the fluffy grey wisps. It was a stupid dream of his, but when he was young and was laying on the beach with his brother, he’d always imagined flying up to the clouds to curl up in their softness. Being surrounded by the soft, puffy white cotton. He still imagined doing it, even all these years later. He knew that the clouds weren’t actually soft like cotton. He knew they really looked like fog up close, but he could still dream.

Stan sighed, closing his eyes and breathing in the crisp sea air. Alright. No more dawdling. He was a grown man. He could push his feelings aside to go and make up with his brother. He slapped the railing twice and walked over to the cabin door. Pushing it open, he could hear the beeps and boops from Ford’s computer array, the lights and screens flickering with sonar and radio printouts. The table pushed against the far wall was strewn with books and notes and maps. Ford had made the effort to keep record of everything they came across in their travels. He stayed up at all hours of the night to record his thoughts and experiments. He even went so far as to sneak a flashlight and notebook to bed. Stan a banned all notetaking in bed when they had to throw out a set of sheets when Ford’s pen had leaked all over.

That was another thing he was going to have to worry about. There wasn’t much in the way of clothes washing out in the middle of the ocean. They had a hot water tank and a crank washer in the engine compartment turned lab. He could always wait until they made port to do his laundry, but he didn’t fancy sleeping on a bare mattress for however long it took Ford to make up his mind about landfall. He hadn’t even bothered to check how bad the mess in his sheets was. Too busy having a moral crisis over his sexuality to even consider cleaning up.

Stan hoped Ford had left well enough alone, but he doubts it.

When he took the steps down to the galley, Stan was met with an empty room. Sink filled with two coffee mugs and a plate with crumbs. Table strewn with books and papers and a laptop computer sat open on Ford’s side of the booth. The bathroom was also empty, save for a stray pair of folded socks that Stan had missed putting on this morning. The bulkhead to the lab was closed and locked. Stan assumed that there wasn't much of a reason to check. Nothing but the low thrum of the modified engine (courtesy of McGucket and his brilliant engineering) and the mess of beakers and lab specimens Ford had saved.

Nothing left to check but their bedroom. Separated from the rest of the galley by a thin curtain, the bow of the ship housed two beds on either wall. Storage and footlockers the the far wall. Sure enough, when Stan hesitantly pushed the red weighted cloth aside, he caught sight of Ford napping in his bunk. Ford’s glasses were askew and resting on his forehead. A book was perched between Ford’s loose fingers and his nose. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a coral V-neck sweater pulled over it; forgoing the life-vest in favor of comfort. He wasn't snoring yet, so it was likely he’d only just dozed off.

Stan stood in the doorway, arm lifting the heavy curtain, and just looked. Mainly because he could. It still took him by surprise, even now, looking at his brother. That he was really there. That he was real. That those thirty years hadn’t been a waste. That the past summer hadn’t been a hallucination brought on by grief. Ford was real. He was safe. He was home. And Stan still marveled at that fact.

His eyes followed the line of Ford’s jaw not blocked by the book propped up by his nose. Swept over the creases at the corners of his eyes and over the faint scars on his fingers. Fluffy gray hair in disarray from sleep. Stan was filled with an alarming sense of affection. His chest swelled with it until he felt like it would burst. His brother was adorable. No other word for it. Stan’s adorable nerd brother. A soft smile worked its way onto Stan’s face. He’d work through whatever this was and they would go back to how it should be.

Stan eased into the room, letting the curtain swing closed behind him. He stooped over Ford’s bunk and pulled the book from his brother’s loose grasp. Ford’s hand twitched. A sharp inhale cut through the quiet room, and Ford’s eyes cracked open.

“Wha’sat? Oh. Stan. Mnh. Time issit?”

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead. ‘Bout four. You eat yet?” Stan dog-eared the open page and closed the book to set it aside. He didn’t bother rummaging around for a bookmark. Ford mumbled something unintelligible and sat up, looking disoriented. He patted the mattress and the collar of his shirt looking for his glasses. Stan gave him another soft smile full of affection before reaching over and sliding them down over Ford’s eyes.

“Wha’ ah. Thanks. Ah…I had some toast this morning. And coffee.” Ford was fully awake now, sitting up straight and blinking up at Stan. Ford was analyzing him. Stan could practically see the lines of code running through his brother’s brain, cataloging every tick and minute detail. Stan hated it.

“So that’d be a ‘no’. Alright, how about I make fish tacos. Think we have some cheese and tortillas left. You said the ‘toe fish’ are edible and the freezer is full of the things.” Stan was trying to make amends. That didn’t mean he was ready to address the issue, but that he was willing to move past it. He really hoped Ford took the hint.

Ford adjusted his glasses, still peering up at Stan with a quizzical look on his face. “Ah, Yes. They are. Reasonably anyway. I haven’t tasted them yet, but I also haven’t detected any harmful compounds during my dissections either. My guess is that they simply are a phenotypic mutation resulting from over-development of the carpel…Stan!”

Stan snorted, pretending to wake up from loud and overdramatic snores. “Huh? Wha’? Sorry, Sixer, nerdtalk always makes me sleepy.” He grinned as Ford frowned and rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I’ll go start cookin’. You do whatever nerd things you do when I’m not around.”

Stan turned to leave the room again when he noticed the sheets on his bed were missing. The Comforter and bare pillow were neatly folded and placed in the center of the mattress, but the sheets and pillowcase were gone. Stan froze. He hadn’t cleaned-up, so the only other person who could have was now fidgeting behind him. This really wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. Sure, when they had been teenagers and it was laundry day, they’d tease eachother for having crusty sheets, but they weren’t sixteen anymore. And discussing it, even flippantly, was far too close to things Stan really wasn't wanting to deal with.

Ford’s hand fell in an awkward pat on his shoulder. “Hey. It’s fine. It’s actually a good sign. Men our age tend not to have the same vigor we do.” Ford chuckled, but it petered out quickly. The air between them practically tingled with awkward tension. Flashes from his morning fantasy changed the tone of Ford’s words. Made them more suggestive. He really needed to get out of the room and put some distance between them. Stan shrugged off Ford’s hand. “Heh, yeah. Thanks…uh. Sixer. I…um…I appreciate it. Sorry fer this morning.”

“Not a problem. I tossed out the leftovers from yesterday. But I don’t feel ill. How are you feeling now?” Ford was in his space, leaning in to scrutinize his face. Stan held his breath, feeling heat migrate to his cheeks. Ford pressed a cool hand to his heated forehead and frowned. “A bit warm. And you’re flushed. You really shouldn’t have been outside all day.” Six fingered hands drifted over his neck, gently palpitating his lymphnodes. Stan’s mind rang with an echoed moan and a phantom hand wrapped around his hardening dick. NOPE!

Stan took a step back, shaking his head and pushing Ford’s hands away from him. ‘I’m fine, Sixer. Damn! Just some indigestion. It happens. I’ll take care of the sheets after I cook dinner, Jeezus!” Ford flinched, drawing his hands to his chest. That kicked puppy look was back, but Stan wasn't in the mood to pet him and stroke his bruised ego. Ford was a grown man; he could deal with it. Stan flipped open the curtain and strode into the galley, fully intent on shoving all of this Freudian bullshit down under several layers of repression. He pushed up his sleeves and opened their little freezer to pull out two freaky toe fish. “Want anything else, or jus’ the tacos? Don’t know what we got left. Should make port soon, ‘less you wanna eat fish all the time.”

Ford followed after, hesitant and watchful. “Just tacos are fine. I think we have some instant guacamole in the back of the pantry.”

Stan groaned. “Eugh, instant. Remind me again why I chose to forgo modern conveniences to rough it on the water, again?” But there was no venom behind it. He’d already prepped their little oven to bake the fish, hacking away at the fins and doing his best to wedge the knife into the frozen flesh. He probably should have just thrown then in the oven to thaw, but he was impatient.

Ford grinned, feeling lighter now that the tension from before seemed to have dissipated. “Because I asked you to.” He passed by Stan to the sink to wash out their mugs, and filled the stovetop kettle.

“Yeah, and why on Earth would I do what a nerdbrain extraordinaire says?” Stan smiles, even as he tears out the goopy and slimy fish guts to toss in their chum bucket. Things felt light. Felt right. He could do this. This was how it was supposed to be between them. Easy and teasing. Just them being bros and living the high life on the high seas looking for treasure and babes. Definitely, definitely babes. And soon. Maybe a siren or a mermaid. Hell, he’d settle for a harpy if they could find one. He just needed to get this out of his system.

“Because you love me.” Ford nudged his arm, jostling Stan’s side.

Stan’s hands stuttered on the fish, narrowly avoiding slicing into his hand. “Heh. I dunno about that. ‘Love’ is a girly word fit for teenagers and woman pinning after Benedict Cumberbatch. Not for Pines men. But eh, I like ya well enough”

“Benedict Who?”

“Oh man. I forget you haven’t been around. Next time we call the kids, ask Mabel about him. He’s an actor she’s nuts over. Tall and lanky fella. Looks kinda like an alien.”

They both dissolved into laughter as the Stan O’ War II rode the waves of the North Atlantic.

Previous

Next